Once they had left the training grounds that morning, Ber had half expected Valeria to forget about her offer to show him around her ship. Though she had been very friendly and accommodating, he knew that officers were busy with matters far more important than arranging a tour for a curious soldier; as such, he had walked away considering the prospect of anything coming to pass as less of an expectation and more of a possibility. So it was with pleasant surprise that he received her notice informing him of her return and when and where he could expect to meet her.

The journey down to the docks was not one that he made with any frequency, but once he arrived, he could very easily pick out the ship that was hers. Men scurried around like ants, packing up and unloading boxes of cargo and supplies, and Ber did his best to stay out of their way as he approached. Standing as she was in plain view, with a hand on her belly, Valeria was not hard to find. “Welcome back,” He greeted her politely, hands behind his back. “How was your voyage?”

“That must be a relief,” Ber said, glancing around the ship as he tried to imagine what a storm on the open ocean must be like. Occasionally, one rolled into Skia, all howling winds that rushed through the narrow stone streets as rain relentlessly pelted any unfortunate soul caught in its grasp, but even those who hadn’t found shelter in time could find some protection from the buildings themselves. With waves instead of walls, nothing would block the wind; the ship and those within her would be entirely at the mercy of the elements. Unless…

“Is there anything you can do to protect against a storm?” He asked curiously, trying to recall if there were any sort of spells witches could cast that would help in such a situation. “Or can you only take shelter and wait for it to pass?” Valeria asked about life on land, and Ber paused for a moment - “When did you leave, again?” - before offering a shrug. “You haven’t missed much. Everything has been business as usual around here, only it’s starting to get a little colder.”

Sailing through a storm still sounded rather treacherous to him, but he supposed as Chief Petty Officer, Valeria would have had more than enough experience to take the danger in stride. Perhaps, to her, it was all simply a part of life on a ship. As she gestured to the plank, Ber glanced down at the piece of wood and nodded. “Alright,” He agreed and stepped forward. It was, after all, the reason he was here. As he boarded, a thought struck him. “Does your ship have a name?” That was something people did with their boats, yes? Give them names?

Upon reaching the deck, Ber glanced around curiously, but when Valeria spoke again, his attention returned to her. “Oh,” He said, somewhat confused as to why she seemed happy about not going out to sea again. “Is that… not a bad thing?” If he remembered correctly, the last time they had met, she had spoken quite fondly of her time on the open ocean and how much she loved it out at sea. To see her smiling as she told him that she might not be able to set sail again for an indeterminate amount of time was not something that he would have ever expected. “At least this past trip was a good one, then,” He offered. “And if you eat enough fish stew here, it will be just like being out to sea.”

“Half-Moon,” Ber repeated, casting his gaze over the ship again. “She seems like a good, sturdy ship.” His attempt at a compliment, though given his general lack of naval knowledge, perhaps it wasn’t saying much. Any ship that was about to fall apart was not going to last long at all. He followed her onto the upper deck and looked around. Positioned as they were by the steering wheel, he had a good view of the entire deck, and Ber commented on it, asking, “Is this where you usually stand?”

As Val revealed her news, Ber ripped his gaze from the ship before him and turned to face her. “What? Since when?” He blurted, then blinked and remembered his manners. “Wait, apologies. That’s very exciting - congratulations.” And how do you know? He wanted to ask. A glance at her belly, where she was resting her hand, confirmed to him that she didn’t look pregnant, and in his experience, a large belly was the sole indicator of a growing bigger. Perhaps a woman would have a better intuition for these kinds of things. “Do you know when you’re due?”

He nodded his understanding, surprised and a bit flattered that she had told him even before her husband. “Of course,” Ber promised; he knew how to keep a secret. It still confused him a little how she could tell she was pregnant before even consulting a healer - definitely must have been some sort of womanly intuition - but the thought was soon chased from his mind by a different one. “Late Ver isn’t that far away,” He said, reconsidering his words even as they left his mouth. Ver was half a year away, but still, that didn’t seem like too much, right? Especially if she and her husband had to get ready for the baby. With his knowledge of caring for babies limited to that which he witnessed as a child himself, Ber could recall only the basics. They would need a cradle and clothes, or at least blankets to swaddle the baby in, but that was about all he could think off. Did babies need anything else? As far as he remembered, they mostly just slept, cried, and made messes. Though there was one thing they required… “Do you have any ideas for names?”

Ber looked at her. Kier? Her husband, likely, judging by the way she spoke of him, but he had no idea who the man was. Only one Kier came to mind, and that was simply because he’d met the Royal Guard recently. But the military alone was inconceivably large, never mind the greater population of Skia, so what were the chances that they were thinking of the same man? And yet… the Royal Guard was a Delaney, so it wouldn’t be entirely surprising if he’d found an accomplished wife among the other soldiers. Kier Delaney. Valeria— Valeria— Had he ever gotten her last name?

He was pondering that as she told him her thoughts on baby names, until mention of this Kier’s uncle dying. If she did mean Delaney, had there been any deaths in the Delaney family recently? “A few months seems like long enough to choose a name,” He said politely, somewhat distracted as he remembered hearing rumors about the old Captain Commander being found dead not too long ago. As far as he knew, no one had ever confirmed it for the soldiers at his rank, and he wasn’t about to go up to Hadrian Usher and ask - but that man had been a Delaney, though Ber had no idea who his nieces and nephews might have been. Still, did she mean Kier Delaney, the Royal Guard who had roped him into teaching a group of kids? It was going to bother him now. Clearing his throat, he scratched his head and finally spoke up, “Um, sorry, but who did you say your husband was again?”

Oh. It was Kier Delaney after all. The realization felt… oddly monumental and inconsequential at the same time. On a practical level, it changed nothing, but on a more personal level, it was weird to consider the Royal Guard and the Chief Petty Officer leaving the castle at the end of the day to go to the same home. He had only ever interacted with them while they were at work; to think of them existing outside of those confines and to be faced with such proof of it simply felt odd in a way that he couldn’t fully justify.

Ber brushed aside his rumination. “I have,” He said truthfully. Though theirs had been a relatively short conversation, he respected the other man for both his obvious competence and the quiet, easy-going humbleness that had made him pleasant to talk with. “He seems like a good man. Friendly.” The Royal Guard who spent his extra time teaching the trainees how to hold a sword and clearly enjoyed spending time around children would undoubtedly be thrilled to find out he was going to be a father. At the thought, Ber couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that he had been the first man Val told, not Kier.