The older man rolled his eyes as he finally pulled himself up into the saddle, giving Noctis a mock-rueful look. Noctis had a very obedient chocobo, and less gear than Clarus. That was just fine with the Shield, though. He’d chosen the chocobo he had for her spirit, not her obedience. He liked a fiery steed. They were excellent battle companions if trained properly.

“From where did you suppose Gladiolus and Iris gained their appreciation? Certainly not their mother.” Not that she’d disliked chocobos, Clarus had just held a special love for the birds from boyhood that he had tried to impart on his offspring. He leaned back to check the contents of one of his saddlebags. “Did you remember to pack rations for the trip?”

Noctis wasn’t his son, but Clarus would never stop being a father or a military commander. Troops must be prepared and ready at all times. “And spare potions. And greens for you chocobo?” Forgive him, Noct. The last time he saw you, you were green to being prepared for the outside world.