He had left his daggers woefully unattended in his room since arriving. It was odd, as they had been attached to him constantly over the past five years of living in Elderkeep. But he felt like it was best not to carry them with him, especially after the King had made it a point of asking them to refrain from destructive magic use. He doubted anyone here would ever consider him a threat, but felt it was still the better option.

But perhaps it had been a bit of comfort he had been missing. As he slipped the harness on and the weight of the blades in their sheaths settled against his back, he gained a bit of comfort from the familiarity. From the idea that the blades were with him, even if he wasn't under constant threat like he was in Elderkeep. Perhaps he would make it a habit to carry them again.

Ber had seemed concerned about the difference in their weapon choices, but even if the soldier couldn't help him specifically with the daggers, he knew he would spend some time with them alone today. Just to reacquaint himself.

Making his way out to the training grounds, he took a deep breath of the salty air that clung to Nevermere. He still had yet to visit the coast and the great body of water beyond. Perhaps he would sometime soon. He wasn't sure what he thought of the tangy sea air, just that he knew it was different.

Finding Ber waiting for him, he perked up considerably, an easy smile coming to his face. He nodded a greeting while Rune yipped quietly, always happy to be acknowledged. "We can stay here, it's fine. I can't imagine a bit of shadows moving around would be that interesting to them." The women here could summon nightmarish creatures out of nowhere, after all.

He motioned to the nearby swords, "I don't mind practicing with the swords. Like I said, it's just been awhile so I'll probably suck."

Ber smiled at Rune’s greeting before turning his attention back to her human, whom he noticed had indeed brought his daggers. At Zevran’s words, he shrugged. “Works for me.” Well accustomed to walking out to Temperance’s little home every week, he hardly minded the trek, but that didn’t mean it was a short journey; it was easier and far more expedient to stay here, though the Dresmondi’s assumption that his magic wouldn’t catch any interest sparked some amusement. “Might be surprised,” The soldier replied ruefully. “Some people will watch anything if it means putting off something more unpleasant, and we can’t control shadows like you and Rune can.” From what he’d seen, Nevermerean witches controlled a far more destructive type of magic. He wondered idly how much Zevran knew about that.

But that wasn’t why they were here. “Right, I remember you saying that,” Ber said over his shoulder, turning to retrieve the swords and handing one over to the other man. Out of habit, he began to step back as if preparing for a spar - the usual outcome to such an action - and realized just how accustomed he was to his partners operating on the same level of innate understanding as he did. Unlike everyone else, Zevran hadn’t gone through six years or training and subsequent service in the military. Once again unsure of what exactly he was doing, he hesitated for a moment before deciding to finish the step back and raise his own sword. “No better way to find out, yeah?” There probably was a better way to find out, but as Ber issued his invitation to spar and waited for the subsequent attack, he thought that this was probably more fun anyway.

Zevran shrugged lightly, unbothered by the idea of people watching. He never minded being the the center of attention and now that he was used to this land, he knew he wouldn't mind it here either. He still believed the women's magic to be far superior to his, but he could understand the desire to study something unfamiliar.

Taking the sword, he lifted it to test the weight, taking a few practice swings to see if anything about using the weapon came back to his mind. His gaze traveled from the sword to meet Ber's when he realized the man had immediately stepped back into a fighting stance and raised his sword. Zevran's eyes flashed at the challenge, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

Turning towards Ber, he raised his sword, though found that without a second weapon, he felt a bit off-kilter. Spreading his feet a bit wider to try to find his center of balance. Satisfied, he turned his full attention towards Ber, "Let's see how long I can last, then," and immediately pushed towards Ber, slashing upwards with the sword.

The spar itself wouldn't last too long, though perhaps a bit longer than would be expected. Zevran had always been light on his feet and so he was able to dodge the swings he couldn't quite meet with the sword. But he was no trained soldier and soon enough he was breathing heavily from trying to keep up with Ber, his muscles burning from the exertion, and eventually he lost his grip on his weapon and it was knocked from his hand.

Bending at the waist, he braced his hands on his knees and sucked in air, feeling sweat trickling down his back. "I suppose I didn't suck too badly," he managed to say between breaths.

With a matching grin on his own face, Ber braced himself for Zevran’s attack, and the spar began. For all of the other man’s uncertainty regarding his own skill, he wasn’t all that bad. Years of practice let the soldier anticipate the Dresmondi’s attacks and lunges from the way he shifted and moved, but he had grown accustomed to fighting soldiers who had all been put through the same training - and therefore all fought the same way. Untrained as he was, Zevran fought with an unpredictability that Ber had to adapt to, particularly as the other man grew more tired and his swings more desperate. It was fun. When the sword was knocked from Zevran’s hand, Ber stepped back, grinning as he caught his own breath. Though he hadn’t quite known what to expect from the spar, he felt like the Dresmondi had held his own well enough.

While Zevran bent double with his hands on his knees, the soldier retrieved the dropped sword and held it loosely in his other hand. “No, I don’t think you sucked too badly,” He confirmed, certainly feeling the exertion but nowhere near as breathless as the Dresmondi. Now that a few moments had passed, he had recovered easily enough from the relatively short fight, though he suspected it would take his sparring partner a bit longer to do the same. Starvation and a lack of training could do that to a person; it had taken many long, painful months for Ber to become accustomed to the military’s more consistently rigorous physical activity when he had first started training. “Easier to catch your breath with your hands behind your head,” Ber advised him, thinking of what he’d been told.

“You’ve got the basics,” He continued with a shrug, figuring they might as well break down the spar while Zevran recovered. “Just need to brush up on them, maybe build some endurance.” The last was said with a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re fast, though, and you can use that to your advantage. Have you ever tried…” Once the other man stopped breathing quite so heavily, Ber stepped forward again and offered him his sword. Now that he had a sense of how the other man fought, he paid more attention to how Zevran held it and moved through his swings rather than what he did, correcting the Dresmondi’s grip and footwork and positioning as needed to the best of his ability. He walked him through a few maneuvers that he thought would be useful, though Ber himself was far better at a reacting in the heat of the fight than predicting what might be of use beforehand. Then he backed up a step and offered, “Want to try again?”

Taking Ber's advice, Zevran forced himself to straighten and put his hands behind his head. He listened quietly to Ber's feedback and suggestions, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips at the soldier's teasing tone. He would certainly be feeling this little training session tomorrow.

With his breathing a bit more under control, he nodded and dropped his hands, tilting his head side to side to stretch out his neck muscles. Ber might have been teasing him, but it was actually a valid point. If he couldn't even keep up in this spar, how could he hold his own in an all out battle? "I think I'll start training a bit every day and work on that endurance you speak of. If I can't keep up with you, I won't be able to keep up with anyone."

Taking the sword back, he allowed Ber to adjust his grip and stance, listening intently to everything the soldier said. He nodded at the offer to spar again, determined to do better this time around. Raising his sword, he cracked another grin. "I'll try to give you a run for your money this time."

And he would hold his own a bit better. He changed his tactics, focusing more on his positioning and proper form than aggressively attacking. He was accustomed to moving quickly with his daggers, but perhaps a slower method was needed with a sword. He played on the defensive, focusing more on reacting than attacking. He knew he would lose the spar in the end, he just wanted to get proper practice from it.

Breathing heavily again, he called a truce before the sword could actually be knocked from his hand. "I have to admit that I didn't realize I was this out of shape." A flicker of amusement from Rune pulled his attention to her, and if he had the energy he would have offered her a rather rude gesture. She had been sitting quietly nearby, observing the spar this whole time.

'He would not overwhelm you as much if I was allowed to help,' she observed, looking from Zevran to Ber and back again.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Ber agreed with a nod, pleased that Zevran had thought of the idea. While he had no control over whether Nevermere helped Dresmond at the end of the day, there was no reason to not prepare as if they were, and what the other man had said was painfully true: if he couldn’t keep up against a single soldier in a spar, he would never last in an actual fight. “If you ever want some company, I can join you when I’m free.”

Zevran’s grin was met with his own. “Bring it.” And then they were off. As promised, the Dresmondi had improved. The differences were small but noticeable, and as his opponent played more defense, Ber took the opportunity to grow more aggressive - and creative, because he might as well practice too - with his own attacks, employing a wider variety of swings and putting a little more force behind each blow. Eventually, however, the Dresmondi called a halt, and the soldier, who had noticed the other man growing increasingly tired, stepped back obligingly. Once again, Zevran was breathing heavier than Ber, though the latter had started feeling the effects of repeated sparring.

“Well,” Ber offered, scratching the back of his neck. Zevran seemed rather perplexed by his lack of endurance, but part of the reason for it seemed obvious to the soldier, if only from his own experiences. “You said there hasn’t been a lot of food in Elderkeep.“ He hesitated, then added with a shrug, “Hunger makes everything more difficult.”

A moment passed. “You know.” The words slipped out awkwardly, for Ber did not make a habit of advertising his weaknesses, even to sparring partners. But the thought had struck him earlier when he had greeted Rune and had lingered throughout the matches, even as he won them. “You could probably beat me if you used every advantage you have.” His gaze drifted to the dark-furred fox sitting on the sidelines, not quite sure what sort of chaos he could be inviting in but willing to do so all the same. “Is there a reason you’re not using magic?” If this was to be preparation for battle, then it only made sense that Zevran use every weapon he had at his disposal.

Zevran's mouth pressed into a grim line at the mention of hunger. Ber was right, although Zevran had not realized just how starved he had been until he arrived in Nevermere. He had been fed such large portions and could barely eat them, but the food was so good and so nutritious here. He had definitely started putting on a little bit of weight, but it was weight he needed.

He shrugged his shoulders, "You have a point, but it doesn't matter what the reason is, I have to be better than this." Running a hand through his hair, he looked at Rune once more. "Well, you don't have any magic to use so I figured it'd be fairer this way. But clearly the playing field needs evened anyway."

He paused for a moment, then tossed the sword to the side and drew his daggers from their place on his back. "Tell you what, how about I use what's familiar to me, and you use what's familiar to you, and we'll see how this turns out."

Raising his daggers in front of him, he cocked his head to the side as Rune paced closer to him, thought still hung back. She wouldn't need to be close to use her abilities. Assuming Ber agreed to his offer, he would start off the spar as before, using his daggers to parry Ber's sword. With his daggers, he moved faster, slashing out with both weapons in succession, he'd attempt to overwhelm Ber.

Then a small smirk would appear on his face before Ber's vision would be snuffed out, a little cloud of darkness settling in front of his eyes. With his opponent blinded, Zevran would quietly dodge to the right, just out of Ber's sight. Rune would then cast a small shadow over Ber's left shoulder while lifting the shadows from his eyes, attempting to convince him that Zevran was moving on his left while Zevran caught him by surprise by remaining on his right.

“That’s true,” Ber acknowledged with a nod and half-shrug. “It is fairer without you and Rune using magic.” And a part of him appreciated the sentiment behind the decision... “But they won’t be fighting fair, so neither should you.” The soldier had learned that lesson long before he enlisted. Though the officers made sparring matches between witches and their male counterparts artificially fair by limiting the use of magic, he saw no reason for the Dresmondi to hold himself to the same standard. Ber wasn’t the one who needed the practice more, and besides, he was a little curious about seeing the magic in combat.

So when Zevran tossed the sword aside and drew out his daggers, the soldier grinned. He accepted the challenge in a heartbeat, and the next round began. Even without magic, now that his opponent was using his weapons of choice, Ber found the spar more challenging in a new way: fighting dual daggers with a sword was an unfamiliar experience. His larger blade was stronger than Zevran’s two smaller ones, but it was also slower and more unwieldy. Parrying faster blows from multiple angles required more creativity than the kind of spars he’d grown more accustomed to. It was fun.

And then the magic came into play. After seeing Rune’s demonstration in the tavern, he knew to expect the absolute darkness that abruptly followed Zevran’s smirk, but despite the preparation, the sudden blindness still threw him off. A long-buried animal instinct had him freezing in place, sword raised and ready, before his training kicked in and he turned slowly, unable to prevent himself from peering into the darkness as if he’d be able to make out any shadowy movements against the inky black. He tried to listen for any sign of his opponent’s movements, but he could only hear the sound of his own breathing and the blood pounding in his ears. Until now, he hadn’t fully appreciated just how much he relied on his sight to fight. The darkness his everything - and then it was gone.

The abrupt return of the light blinded Ber and left him blinking, utterly disoriented as his eyes adjusted to seeing once more. In a haze, he caught sight of a shadow moving to his left and turned instinctively to face it, opening himself up entirely to Zevran’s surprise attack.

There was no question: Ber lost that round. But when he looked at the Dresmondi, the soldier was grinning. “That was good,” He said as he caught his breath. “Turns out it’s hard to fight when you can’t see.” Who knew. “I think you both should keep using your magic, but what do you think?”

Still grinning, Zevran twirled his daggers in his hands. He felt a lot better about himself now, though he knew he had a long way to go to actually be considered 'good' at fighting. "Turns out I can be equally useful. If you do end up going to Dresmond, you'll be fighting against the Dresmondi in the Eldouir's army. You'll need to know how to fight all forms of element magic."

Considering Ber's question, he nodded his head. It made sense and he would never actually fight without Rune. She would always be with him, and if she wasn't, well, then he would basically not exist himself. "It's probably for the best."

Raising his daggers again, he danced on his toes, "We go again?"

Even if it was the result of Ber’s loss, the satisfaction on Zevran’s face was gratifying, and the soldier’s grin only grew. Seeing the wisdom of Zevran’s statement, he nodded quickly. “Definitely will need to learn how to do that.” While he hadn’t minded the initially one-sided nature of who would benefit from these sparring sessions, he was pleased to find something that he could learn, too. Even if it wasn’t necessarily used against the pitch black of a Dresmondi’s elemental magic, learning how to properly fight while blinded or in the darkness would still be unquestionably useful.

At the Dresmondi’s challenge, Ber brought his sword back up and nodded. “Let’s do it.” Like before, the Nevermerean fared far better during the portion of the fight where he could see. This time, when darkness blotted out his vision again, he took a deep breath, held it, and fighting against every instinct, closed his eyes. The soldier had hoped that if he stopped trying to see an opponent he would never see, he would be able to sense Zevran some other way. Indeed, it was easier to focus on his hearing with his eyes shut, but whether the few blind swings he haphazardly took with the sword came into contact with anything other than air, it still wouldn’t be enough to win him the bout. Based on the brightness behind his eyelids, Ber would be able to tell when the shadows vanished, but even though he was more ready for it now than before, the shift from dark to light would still leave him disoriented and slower to react to whatever attack Zevran launched at him.

Afterward, he couldn’t help the slight despair that arced through him as he imagined trying to fight against an entire army who could incapacitate Nevermerean soldiers so easily. They, or at least soldiers like him, all relied so heavily on their sight to effectively fight. And what about the other elements that Zevran had alluded to? He thought the Dresmondi might have mentioned a few others when they had talked in the tavern, but the details had been lost amongst everything else he had been told that night. “Are there many other elements besides darkness?” Granted, he had only just started trying to combat it, but if one was this difficult, how hard would it be to counter multiple at one time?

Zevran attacked much the same way he had before except this time it seemed Ber did a bit better at tracking the sound of his movements. A few haphazard swings came his way, though he was easily able to dodge them. He couldn't help but think about how quickly Ber would fall against one of the Dresmondi trained by the Eldouirs. He would have been dead as soon as he lost his vision. Perhaps he was just going easy on him due to their difference in skill.

Ever the one for dramatics, as Rune pulled the darkness from Ber's eyes again, Zevran spun back to the front of the soldier and lunged forward, scissoring his blades in front of the soldier's neck. As Ber's vision came back to normal, he'd find Zevran looking at him with another smirk on his face.

Withdrawing his blades, Zevran stepped away to catch his breath again before answering. "If it exists in our natural world, then there is a dyr who can control it. Dark and light. Earth, air, water, ice... Even plants and metal. Oh yes, and lightning and fire as well."

He ran a hand through his hair, which was soaked with sweat and flopped back into his eyes immediately anyway. Shaking his head again to displace the locks, he raised his blades and studied them closely, not contemplating the blades themselves but using them as an excuse to think on something else. "When Alys first convinced us to come back with her, she gave the others in our group a liquid that turned them invisible... Potions, I believe you call them? Would it be possible to make some potions that work around our magic?"

If they could make potions that work around magic, it could help them deal with both the Dresmondi magic and the Eldouir magic. It would certainly be a helpful edge in the fight.

As his vision returned to him, Ber found himself facing a smirking Dresmondi who held daggers at his neck. With a good-natured huff, the soldier shook his head slightly. “Yeah, yeah,” He conceded, though he was also smiling. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Zevran. I’ll get you one of these rounds. You’ll see.”

The humor only lasted about as long as it took the other man to answer his question. Magic that could control every aspect of the world around them? How could they fight against an army that so thoroughly weaponized their surroundings? Ber let out a breath. “That’s not at all like the magic our witches can do.” The observation was more thoughtful, and he glanced toward Rune as he spoke. “It’s not the kind of magic we train to fight alongside - or against. I’m not the best fighter, but we all went through the same training. If you can disable me so easily with just one type of magic…” He shook his head, thoughts circling back to where they had begun. “If we end up fighting the Eldouir, we’ll need to figure out how to survive all of them.”

Zevran’s questions had Ber pausing, though he confirmed that the Dresmondi had used the correct word. “You mean something that would let me see, even if you and Rune use your darkness?” He liked the sound of that. “Maybe,” He said with a shrug. “I don’t see why not, but I don’t know much about what potions can or can’t do. The magic comes from the chant that witches do when they make them.” He lightly dug into the dirt beneath his feet with the toe of his shoe, mind churning. “If it’s possible, I know an apothecary who’s very good at making potions, but the military witches might be able to figure it out faster.” There were more of them and they had the resources, after all. If Temperance had access to their supplies… Well, something like this was more under the military’s purview anyway. “Can’t hurt to look into, at least,” Ber concluded with a shrug. “Have you asked anyone about it?” Did he even know who to ask about it? Probably not, if Ber himself didn’t know, but with an internal sigh, the soldier acknowledged that he knew someone who probably would.

Sliding his daggers back into their harness, he took the time to stretch out some of the muscles in his arms. He could already feel them starting to tighten and knew he'd be in for a lot of pain tomorrow.

As him and Ber continued to discuss the magical issues of the fight, the bleakness of their situation started to drain him of his remaining energy. But they couldn't lose hope already. "But just as you don't know how to fight their magic, they don't know how to fight yours either. That puts us all back on even ground."

He sunk to the ground, stretching out his legs a bit, "I have not mentioned it to anyone, no. I'm not sure what is and isn't my place here in this kingdom. I'm just trying to stay out of trouble to remain in the King's good graces." He waved a dismissive hand, "If he is taking this long to decide what to do, I hope he will cover all his bases when it comes to planning the attack."