Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2023 7:52:05 GMT -5
Not horribly long ago, in a tavern on the outskirts of Skia, during a conversation of which Ber had never got around to informing his friend, Warren Woodwick had come to the same conclusion. Over cups of ale, he had informed Ber of this conjecture, which at the time had not rested quite so easily on the soldier’s shoulders. Couldn’t they help Dresmond because it was the right thing to do, he had asked, thinking of Temperance and her generosity. In not so many words, he has been told that politics often got in the way of morals and reminded that the king would hardly fight a war for free.
He had never really thought about the acquisition of Coheed and Cambria. It made sense that Dresmond would follow the same path. Even if their way of life was the antithesis of Nevermerean perspectives.
Now that reality had settled into place, Ber found himself more comfortable with the prospect. Plus, there was a definite upside to all of this. “Well, if we’re allies, then at least we’ll always be on the same side,” Ber said earnestly, not quite sure how to respond to Zevran’s quiet admission that he wouldn’t like his kingdom to end up like Coheed. If he had been in Zevran’s shoes and Dresmond was helping Nevermere, he knew he would want to return to their traditional way of life free from outside influence, but it was also like his friend said: anything would be better than the Eldouir. Being a Nevermerean wasn’t bad, in Ber’s opinion, and he hadn’t heard any complaints from any Coheedsman or Cambrians about it.
“I think it would make sense if you were,” He agreed with a nod. “You’ve been here, so you know what we’re like. And you’ve talked to the king on behalf of your people before.” As Zevran fell into silence, so too did Ber. He hadn’t ever really considered what would come after the hypothetical-now-unofficially-confirmed war, at least not like he was now. He had known, intellectually, that once they beat back the Eldouir, his friend would be returning to Dresmond, but with the discussion of the likely mantle he would take up there, the full implications were starting to hit home. Zevran would be in Dresmond, and Ber would be in Nevermere. Days like today, where they were laughing and smiling so easily side-by-side, would be a thing of the past. His heart clenched.
“Do you— If you were offered that position,” He began, thinking that maybe Zevran would occasionally have reason to come back to Skia again if he was representing Dresmond. “Would you want it?”