And someone had Regis the same sort of thing on the same boat thirty years prior, though it hadn’t been Clarus. The prince had a steward just like Noctis did, but a turn of fates caused Weskham to take his leave from the group, and Clarus had been made to take the role of Hand and Shield and Regis’s well-being was in his hands. Then years later he’d become a father, and then the world had taken his wife from him and once again he’d needed to step into a role he wasn’t ready for. Years of practice made a habit, and old habits die hard as they say. Acting the parental role was hard-wired into him now.

“You’ve found a chocobo as lazy as you,” he teased. “Remember the old saying: spare the rod, spoil the chick. Keep him on his toes so he can best serve you.”

Noctis being present was a relief to Clarus. The prince gave him purpose and direction. He could protect the young man, even if it wasn’t in an official capacity, and he’d feel as though he were actually doing something with himself. Of course he planned to get a job in public service here eventually, but for now he wanted to see Noctis safe and acclimated. His own comfort would come with the young man’s.

“What do you hope to accomplish today?” He asked, drawing the conversation back to serious, focusing on the goal and task ahead of them.