Zevran had taken to wandering the palace grounds in the days since the meal with the King. After all, he had nothing better to do while they waited for the King's decision, and he had found that he enjoyed watching the Nevermere soldiers train, for two reasons. Firstly, because he was soaking up all he could learn from their sparring. And secondly, because Nevermere happened to be full of really good looking people.

But still, he had mostly kept to himself, only speaking with Kezia and Alys. He wasn't interested in making any friends here as he hoped they'd be able to leave again quite soon. And usually, the other Nevermerans didn't bother with him either, until today, it would seem. He glanced up, searching until he found the source of the voice. Rune sat between his feet, afraid to move very far. These people were not used to minding a small animal at their feet and she didn't want to get stepped on.

He studied the man speaking to him, his eyes trailing from head to foot and back up again before he answered, "I'm not really lost, just... trying to pass some time, I guess." He glanced behind him, searching for the two guards who had been assigned to him by the King. They tended to blend in well, but he knew they never let him out of their sight.

Now that he stood beside the man, Ber could see that the fox – he was going to say it was a fox until he heard otherwise – was a lot smaller than he might have expected. Spending time with Temperance and Thom and their dog Artos had apparently skewed his expectations for canine sizes toward the larger end of the spectrum, and even though he was a puppy, the dark-furred puppy who had wiggled his way into Ber’s heart would have dwarfed the small creature seated between the Dresmondi’s feet. He wondered if Dresmondi named their animals like Nevermereans did here.

“Oh,” Ber said, somewhat surprised, for he had been prepared to offer more concrete assistance such as directions somewhere. “Well…” Casting a glance around as if an answer would rise out of the stone, he considered the time he spent in the castle. Most of it was spent in the military wing, training or hanging out with the other soldiers in the barracks or mess hall, but that answer would hardly help the stranger. What one did in the castle when they weren’t military was beyond him. In Skia, however… “Have you – Are you able to, um, leave the castle?”

How did one politely ask if their conversation partner was more or less imprisoned in the castle? Ber didn’t know, but he tried anyway. While the he didn’t think there would be any harm in letting the foreigner roam the city – the man and his fox looked harmless enough, though he knew looks could be deceiving – the soldier had no idea how much freedom the king had seen fit to give him. “I’m Ber, by the way,” He introduced himself a moment later, holding out a hand for the other man to shake. “Have you been here long? It’s probably different from what you’re used to.”

Zevran almost smiled at the man, a faint hint of amusement lifting his features as Ber seemed to stumble over his words a bit. It seemed to happen a lot around here. He wasn't sure if it was from their attempts to keep things polite or if everyone was just that thrown off at having outsiders in their kingdom.

Crossing his arms lightly across his chest, Zevran nodded slowly, "Yeah, I'm free to do whatever here. Just with Gerard and Matilda following me everywhere," he answered, tossing his head towards the two guards that had finally made an appearance. "But I haven't really seen much yet outside of here." He didn't really have the desire to explore, unless Alys was taking him somewhere.

He nodded when Ber introduced himself. "I'm Zevran, and this is Rune," he glanced down at the fox who still hadn't moved from between his feet. She wanted to be away from this strange place as much as he did. "And no, we haven't been here long. A few days, maybe a week." He'd honestly lost track already. It was all a blur of just waiting around for the King.

Ber glanced toward Gerard and Matilda when the Dresmondi mentioned them, recognizing neither, and considered the man standing in front of him. An idea had started to take root in his mind, one he thought might work out well if all parties were amenable. Duncan and the others always seemed willing to welcome others, so he supposed it was up to his companion. “Would you like to see more?” He asked tentatively. “Of Skia, I mean. I’m on my way to get some drinks if you would like to join?”

He followed Zevran’s glance down to the shy little creature hiding between his feet and added, “Though you don’t have to.” If Rune was skittish in a quiet hallway, he doubted a loud tavern would do anything other than further terrorize the fox. “Taverns might not like animals anyway,” He mused, partly to himself. “I know a couple who also have a dog - bigger than Rune but black like her - named Artos. He’s a puppy, found him on the street, and I know he goes to work with one of them, but I don’t think he’s ever been anywhere else besides the office and home.” He wondered idly how Zevran and Rune met and if it was at all similar to how Thom had picked up Artos. In his experience, stray dogs were far more commonplace than stray foxes, but perhaps it was different in Dresmond? It was an entirely different kingdom, after all. Still, if he knew one thing, it was that, “Rune must like you a lot if they’ve followed you all the way here.”

Zevran studied the soldier, his brows drawing together slightly as he attempted to puzzle him out. He had only just stumbled upon this man and he was offering to take him all over the city? Nevermerans were truly odd. Or, perhaps he had become too cynical of other people from living in Elderkeep. After all, Dresmondi had all been about community and helping each other before the Eldouirs came along.

Still, he couldn't help the sliver of suspicion. He forced an amused grin to cover it, "You only just met me and you want to whisk me around the city?" he chuckled and shook his head. "Is this just a Nevermeran thing to want to show off your city right away?" Then he looked down at Rune, more amusement coloring his features.

"I assure you, Rune can look after herself in a rowdy crowd. And well, she doesn't have much of a choice in following me." He didn't feel like going into the whole explanation of their bond. It was hard to explain to outsiders.

As Zevran spoke, Ber lifted a shoulder in a shrug, an awkward smile finding its way into his face. Though he was chuckling, the other man’s questions made him wonder if he had made a misstep in inviting the Dresmondi out for drinks. He didn’t think he was being particularly forward, but then, he was a soldier and not a diplomat for a reason. Who knew how different things were in other kingdoms? “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Ber reiterated earnestly, scratching the back of his neck. “Just thought, the castle’s kinda boring, so if you were looking for something to do to pass the time…” Voice trailing off, he shrugged again, wondering how many other invitations to see Skia Zevran had received if he thought they were all leaping at the chance to show off the city. If he found ever himself in the main city of a new kingdom, the soldier thought he would have been interested in exploring a bit, but perhaps Zevran was happy enough in the castle. “The people I’m meeting up with a friendly; I don’t think they’d mind you joining in.” A brief pause. “But really, you don’t have to if you’d rather stay here.”

Ber’s attention mirrored Zevran’s as they both considered the fox at his feet. The apparent lack of choice she had in following the Dresmondi man around made him pause, for he saw no leash or collar binding them together. After briefly weighing the merit of voicing his confusion, he decided that perhaps it was simply better to let that question go unanswered, especially if Zevran already seemed somewhat surprised by a simple offer for drinks at a tavern. “That’s good,” Ber offered instead, casting around for what people said about other peoples’ dogs - or in this case, foxes. “Is she friendly?”

He took some time to consider Ber, letting his gaze wander lazily up and down. He was a good looking man, built well from all of his military training. Zevran's head tilted slightly, his gaze appreciative. He remembered Alys's reaction when he had told her Dresmondi took whatever partners they wanted, and however many they wanted, regardless of sex. If sweet Alys had had such a reaction, he doubted this soldier would have any better of one.

Drawing his gaze up to Ber's face, he focused on his words instead. "Well, it makes sense the castle would be boring to you. But when you're from my home, the castle is quite nice." He paused, a smile coming to his face again, "But perhaps it is time I adventure into Skia a bit. Just as long as you don't mind mind shadows tagging along. King's orders." He jerked his thumb towards the two guards with a frown, already sick of having them follow him.

At his question about Rune, a bark of laughter escaped Zevran's mouth before he could stop it, eliciting a quite growl from Rune. "She's friendly enough, as long as you don't get on her bad side." He chuckled some more, shaking his head. "Perhaps I could tell you more about Rune over these drinks."

There was a pause as Zevran sized him up, though looking for what Ber wasn’t quite sure. Given that he was off duty and on his way to a social outing, he didn’t have any weapons on him that could make him seem particularly threatening, but he knew that didn’t always mean much in a world where fists could accomplish the same end as a sword, albeit with considerably more effort. He tilted his head slightly as he considered the Dresmondi’s words. “Oh, do you not have castles where you’re from?” Or, he realized a moment later, Zevran may have simply never been in one before. If not for the mandatory military training followed by his enlistment, Ber would have no reason to be here.

Though he hadn’t wanted to pressure the Dresmondi into coming with him, he couldn’t help but feel some at his agreeing to head out into the city - proof that he hadn’t somehow contributed to some diplomatic mess. The castle was, admittedly, probably the nicest part of Skia, but he didn’t think he should mention that. At Zevran’s gesture, he glanced back at the guards lingering on the fringes of his awareness and shrugged helplessly. “Can’t argue with the King.” The two figures tailing him were probably bored of following their charge around the castle, so maybe they would appreciate the change of scenery too.

The unexpected laughter had Ber looking back toward the man beside him with a tentative smile. “Fair enough,” He agreed, resolving to slip Rune some extra food from the table if they ended up ordering any. If she was anything like Artos, food was a reliable way to earn her friendship. When Zevran offered to elaborate over drinks, Ber nodded. “Yeah,” He said, turning to lead the way into the city. “I’d like that.”

Resting somewhere between far enough to be out from under the immediate shadow of the castle and close enough to not make a potentially drunken trek to the barracks impossible, the tavern wasn’t too far into the city. While they walked, Ber looked around at familiar streets and buildings that had long since ceased to be especially interesting to him. But it was likely that Zevran felt differently, especially given what he’d said about the castle. After pointing out the road that lead to the market when they passed it, just in case the other man ever wanted or needed to buy anything, Ber asked curiously, “How different is all of this from where you’re from?”

Ber's question earned him a bewildered look from Zevran that slowly turned into a bitter understanding. Of course the people of Nevermere would have no idea what was happening in Dresmond. They all lived in such comfort, he doubted most of them even knew what was going on in their own kingdom. He certainly hadn't know anything about Nevermere before coming here, he couldn't expect them to know of Dresmond.

"We have nothing where I'm from. Just a lot of broken wagons and misery." He realized that would probably just confuse Ber even more, but he couldn't help the bitterness in the words. He waved a dismissive hand, choosing to fall silent and follow the man out onto the streets of Skia rather than explain here. Perhaps a drink or two would help loosen him up for the conversation.

His gaze jumped around as they walked, taking in the sights. It was almost overwhelming to him, same as the first time they had entered Skia. There were just so many things. He blinked at Ber's question, taking a moment to answer it. "In every way possible. In Dresmond we never had big settlements like this. We traveled in caravans. And Elderkeep is... not like this."

He paused, wondering how much he should tell the general populace about why they were here. But he shrugged the thought away almost immediately. If the King wanted to take his good old time coming to a decision, Zevran was going to ensure all of the King's people understood why they needed to help Dresmond. "I can explain all of it in the tavern, if you like."

The enigmatic statement about broken wagons and misery had Ber picturing little wooden carts drawn by hand or by horses, but before the confusion could manifest into a coherent question, Zevran waved his hand and fell silent. Taking the hint, Ber fell silent as he led the way into the city, but questions bounced around his mind with the same energy as Artos bouncing off Temperance’s cottage walls after waking up from a nap. Having grown up an orphan who spent most of his days running on the streets and stealing food, he was intimately familiar with the concept of having nothing, but how could an entire people be so poor? And what did broken wagons have to do with it?

“Caravans?” Ber repeated. “You had… traveling cities?” How could a kingdom not have a settlement of solid, familiar stone and mortar to return to? Skia was a lot of things, many of them negative, but as far as he knew, the city itself had always served as a focal point for Nevermerean society and Rainecourt Castle as the focal point for Skia. Within her stone walls, the most powerful people in the kingdom made all of the important decisions, the military trained and commanded its soldiers, and the nobles gathered to do whatever politicking suited their fancy on social occasions. How could a kingdom exist without such a place? At the very least, how would everyone know where to find the king?

And had? What had happened to their caravans, that had left behind nothing but broken wagons and misery?

He wondered about Elderkeep, too, if it was Dresmond’s main city-caravan like Skia was Nevermere’s primary city, but before he could ask, Zevran offered to explain in the tavern. “That would be good,” Ber agreed easily. He could see the warm light spilling out of the windows of the tavern ahead. Lively, the establishment was crowded but not overly so, and they were greeted to the rise and fall of many conversations. Some heads turned toward them as they entered, and curious gazes lingered longer than usual as the patrons noticed who exactly had stepped into the tavern. Uncomfortable with the attention, even if it was directed at the foreign man and his fox rather than Ber himself, the soldier cast a practiced eye over the sea of faces and found familiar ones rather quickly.

“They’re over there,” He said, glancing back at Zevran and gesturing to a table situated near the back corner. If the Dresmondi looked particularly overwhelmed or uncomfortable, he would pause and give him another chance to back out and return to the castle. Otherwise, he would lead the way to a table occupied by a handful of young men and women, most of whom already had a beverage or food in front of them. Duncan, who had invited Ber on this outing to begin with, waved at them as they approached. Ber introduced Zevran and Rune to his fellow soldiers, then identified Duncan, Tarre, and Moss for Zevran. The latter two witches greeted the Dresmondi politely in turn, though Ber would hardly have been surprised if their names had gone in one ear and out the other. The young man himself had never been particularly good at names and faces, especially when told them all at once.

Claiming an open seat by Duncan, he asked Zevran, “What do you want to drink? You name it, they’ve got it.“

“Doesn’t even taste like piss half the time either,” Duncan chimed in.

Moss rolled her eyes. “If you want something that tastes like half your wages, then you’re looking in the wrong part of town, Bayle.” She directed her next words to the Dresmondi. “Food makes it go down easier. The stew tonight isn’t bad.”

Once decisions were made, they would order and settle back in their seats.

All of Ber's questions would be answered in time. For now Zevran followed along to the tavern, taking in the scene inside. A drunken crowd was not unfamiliar to him, in fact the inside of this tavern offered the most familiarity he had found in this city. A bit of sadness washed through him at the sight as he remembered his friends back home and the nights in Ermir's tavern. The times they could almost forget where they were and what was happening.

He followed Ber to the table he indicated, his gaze jumping between the various people already seated at it. He took a seat next to Ber, doing his best to take in the names thrown his way and the various recommendations and complaints. He smiled his way through it all, not wanting to spoil their fun. Anything here in Nevermere would taste amazing compared to what he had been used to.

"The stew sounds good, and I'll just have some ale," he finally answered. Rune had slunk in under his chair, laying between his feet to stay out of the way. She was prepared to lay there all night, knowing what Zevran's drinking habits usually were. Zevran sat back in his chair, crossing his arms lightly across his chest. He had come in here wanting to tell Ber everything, but now that he was faced with this whole table of people, he wasn't certain he could bring himself to sour their evening.

After the additional food and drink had been ordered, a momentary silence fell over the table as they considered each other.

“Didn’t say you were bringing along a friend, Ber,” Duncan said with a grin and a nod toward Zevran.

“I wasn’t planning to.” He shrugged. “But then I ran into Zevran, and he was looking for something to do, and I figured you guys wouldn’t mind, so…” A pause. “You guys don’t mind, right?”

“Nah, of course not.” Duncan waved away Ber’s concerns. “We’re glad to have you, Zevran.” He directed his words now to the Dresmondi. “We have the honor of introducing you to the most mediocre alcohol in all of Skia. But the company makes up for it.” His gaze turned inquiring. “You have alcohol in Dresmond, yeah?”

Moss snorted and shot Duncan a look. “Obviously they do. He ordered ale.” Though she cast a glance toward Zevran as if for confirmation.

“Hey, you never know.”

“If anyone didn’t have alcohol,” Tarre interjected. “It would probably be Arynn Frey. They’re all about logic and staying calm, and getting drunk’s the opposite of reason.”

“Opposite of reason—“ Duncan shook his head, chuckling. “Sorry, Tarre, do you mean fun?”

They continued on, and though he enjoyed their company, Ber was reminded of why he only occasionally joined them on their forays into Skia’s various taverns. They tended to involve a lot more talking on their part and sitting and listening on his. Less interested in discussing the merits of alcohol and related adventures than he was in receiving answers to the questions that had thus far remained unanswered, he turned slightly to face the Dresmondi seated beside him. “Sorry,” He said sheepishly. “Duncan and the other two can go on for a while. Do you want to tell me about your home? I’d still like to hear about it.”

A small smile stayed on Zevran's face as he listened to this strangers talk around him, enjoying the friendly atmosphere even if he wasn't necessarily included in it. It was better than the silence that rested within the castle walls most days.

He chuckled quietly at their question, though he was certain it was more to himself than the group who continued speaking even after asking him a question. He wasn't certain whether he should still answer the question that had been sort of directed his way, but then Ber was addressing him and offering a more solid topic of conversation.

"I suppose the best place to start is how things used to be there. It's the happier version of Dresmond, anyway." He took a sip from his ale before continuing, "As I told you, we didn't have cities like Skia. We traveled in caravans, working our way through the land to care for it and nurture it. We didn't have kings or queens or anything so strict. We just had our freedom." He fell silent, picking at a splinter of wood standing up on the table. "Then the Eldouirs came and took all of that freedom away."