Half a month ago, the main force of Menethil set out to attack the Dragonmaw Orcs' Grimjaw camp. The enemy destroyed the bridge to isolate Menethil on the water and cut off the main army's retreat. Captain Stofi, the dwarf in charge of the port's security, admitted his decision-making failure and resolved to face the Alliance military court, but he wanted to resolve the current dilemma first.
The bridge was almost entirely destroyed, and it was unrealistic to request reinforcements from the nearest Alliance base. He could only place his hopes on the Stormwind troops that were supposed to have already left. A crisis meeting with the captain leading these troops had been underway for a whole day.
That night, the entire city heightened its vigilance. Bossia and Kegira were assigned to patrol the waterfront. They couldn't let their guard down, as earlier in the evening, other guards had caught six enemies sneaking in via the water.
At least the waters in front of Bossia were calm. The Menethil River, which flowed directly into the sea, flooded regularly each year, washing away buildings, crops, and lives, but the locals had learned to live with it. Now, however, with the port under siege, the river seemed to reveal a long-suppressed malice, strangling the city's residents like a noose around their necks.
Bossia recalled the streams of Elwynn Forest, where she once sang endless dirges. Before her now was a river that flowed into the sea, where no voice could escape the waves' engulfing roar. But this is what she would face from now on. She felt somewhat fortunate to have experienced her first battle before setting sail across the sea.
"Why do you keep staring at the water, girl? Like you've been abandoned by a man, mumbling about jumping in but too scared to take the step," Kegira said. Though the remark still sounded mocking, it lacked its former condescending tone. If not for Kegira breaking the silence after nearly half the night, Bossia would have almost forgotten she was standing beside her.
"Why don't you call me 'Holy Vase' or something?"
"I don't have the time or the energy to argue with you right now. Don't push me either."
"As you wish."
After a pause, Kegira spoke again.
"You were like a madwoman yesterday. Hey, girl, were you pretending to be obedient all along?"
"Who would I be pretending for? You?"
"That's not what I meant," Kegira ignored the hostility in Bocia's tone. "Because I've seen the Holy Light Cathedral Guard from afar before, and you were always at the front. It's hard to imagine a paladin dressed like that actually on the battlefield."
"Yesterday was my first time on the battlefield. And I'm not a paladin anymore."
"In my experience, you've got more guts than the average rookie. Yesterday, you were the only one who dared face the Dragonmaw Orc head-on. Hey, your sword skills aren't bad."
"Though never tested in battle, the Cathedral Guard's training is much harder than that of regular soldiers. I wasn't the best, but I wasn't the worst either."
"Many people would kill for the chance to work in the Cathedral. And you, girl, you gave that up."
Seeing Bossia remain silent, not taking the bait, Kegira added, "Was it because of a man?" But she quickly followed with, "Alright, I won't ask these annoying questions."
"Do you really want to know?"
"I'm not going to force you, girl. But since you put it like that, now it's interesting..."
An exchange of tactics. Bossia thought: When I used to talk with Jorgen, I always felt like I was unknowingly led toward where he wanted me to go. Seems I've picked up a bit of that trick myself? Since leaving Stormwind, this was the first time she found herself amused by something, though she had to hide it a bit longer. Last night, in a burst of emotion, she had accused Kegira of masking her insecurities by bullying rookies—it seemed she had hit something deep within Kegira. Thirty-two years old, and perhaps even veterans don't always see the battlefield as their own backyard.
"Someone once taught me a term," Bossia said, "'information symmetry.' It means that when two people share secrets, they must exchange equal amounts of information. Understand?"
Though Bossia had modified Jorgen's definition of the term, it worked. Kegira slowly nodded and said, "Alright... I get it."
"Then, if I tell you why I gave up being a paladin, you have to tell me why you keep giving me grief over my past as a paladin."
Kegira considered for a moment. When she finally said, "Alright," her tone lacked confidence. "But you go first," she added.
"Fine."
It felt like a truth-or-dare game between children. It didn't belong on a battlefield, but no one could stop it from happening during the calmest moment before the war began.
But Bossia was destined to cheat in this game. Even if she had to tell the truth, where would she start? From her conversations with Jorgen in prison? From the first time she heard Neil Jessie sing? Or from her first day being adopted by Benedictus? She didn't intend to recount it all. She simply told Kegira that she had once fallen in love with a man who openly opposed the teachings of the Holy Light, and he was ultimately framed and killed. This whole event shook her faith, and the Holy Light was no longer enough to explain her doubts. In this simple story, there was no Jorgen. Neil was dead, but Jorgen was still alive, perhaps somewhere in Stormwind—Bocia couldn't bear to speak of him in the tone of a memory.
Kegira believed the story, or at least didn't express any doubt.
"Now it's your turn."
Kegira scratched the black hair behind her ear, a gesture that, for a moment, made her look like she was Bocia's age.
"I used to be a sergeant, but I secretly participated in the paladin selection trials three times in a row. Not only did I fail all three times, but my superior found out."
"And you got demoted back to the infantry?"
Kegira didn't answer directly. "Then, I took a year of maternity leave, gave birth to a son, and worked as a militia trainer in town to support him. Let's just say, he didn't have a father... so he was influenced only by me. As soon as he could understand things, he would say he wanted to become a paladin when he grew up, never missing a single church event in town."
"When he was six, a man fell into a pit of snakes and was bitten all over, his body swelling and festering beyond recognition. But somehow, he survived. He claimed it was the result of praying to the Holy Light constantly. He went around giving speeches and raising funds to build a new Holy Light church in town. It caused quite a stir. Even the Archbishop came, of course bringing the Cathedral Guard with him. That was seven years ago, Bossia. How old were you then?"
Without realizing it, she had called Bossia by name for the first time.
"Fourteen."
"No wonder you weren't in the Guard then. You can imagine how excited my son was to see the most famous paladin force. But I found myself jealous: he was about to see just how different real paladins were from his mother... So I didn't let him leave the house and locked him in the attic. For the Cathedral paladin parade, he climbed onto the windowsill with a stool and fell."
"...Oh."
At first, Bossia was surprised at how smoothly Kegira said that. But hadn't she herself just spoken just as easily about Neil's death? Though she knew better than to compare an old lover to a child, everyone inevitably reached a point: from rejecting the truth to finally accepting they were truly gone.
"Do you understand now? I wasn't picking on you, specifically. It's not even about the faith of the Holy Light, because it's something I once pursued, and something my son once yearned for. But... these experiences, they make me say those things when I see someone like you who has given up the faith. I don't know why. Do you?"
Bossia shook her head. The two were silent for a moment.
"I have another question," Kegira lowered her voice.
"Ask away."
"According to the doctrine, all those with devout faith will be reunited in the world of eternal Holy Light after death. Isn't that correct?"
"Yes."
"If... I were to die on the battlefield, based on your past experience, do you think I would see my son in that world? Because I think... he must be there. He was a devout little disciple."
"I think, maybe you would."
"Maybe?"
"First, you'd have to be devout enough yourself. But since you were never officially baptized, you'd need a servant of the Holy Light, like a priest, to guide you with a sincere blessing at the last moment."
"If you die on the battlefield, there's usually no priest around... Can a paladin perform such a blessing?"
"Kegira, you—"
"I'm just asking. I know you don't like that identity, and anyway, you're no longer qualified. Never mind, forget it."
Though she said no more, Bossia could tell Kegira was seriously considering the matter. The reflections of the water rippled endlessly in her dark eyes.
The next morning, the military meeting concluded with a decision: the captain would select some from the Stormwind fleet to stay and await reinforcements, while the rest of the crew would take some civilians and head south. Bossia and Kegira were ordered to help these civilians.
"Silence, silence!" the captain ordered. "Good. Bossia Wislanzo and Kegira Stilwell, I commend your spirit. If you complete this mission, I'll recommend medals for both of you. Now, I need more warriors..."
One person was particularly agitated: Father Angelo. He tried his best not to shout, but Bossia could clearly see his fingers trembling. He raised his head high, closing his eyes tightly, and then opened them again, tears welling at the corners. Through the mist of his tears, he stared at Bossia with a gaze full of anger and intense fear. She knew what he wanted to say: Why? Bossia, why? This isn't where you're supposed to be! This isn't what you're meant to do!
How much of those tears were from genuine concern and how much from a fervent soul, Bossia couldn't tell.
Before departing, she regretted not asking Kegira for the golden key the night before. But, it's alright, she thought. There would be other opportunities.