The old knight hesitated, trying to muddle through his mind how to word his reassurance to Regis. "I don't regret anything. Well... much." He regretted leaving his children behind. He regretted that, despite his efforts, he hadn't been able to fight hard enough to save Regis. But they'd both known it was coming. "We made our choices, and we made our peace with them."

No need to tell him the details. And actually once the words were out of his mouth Clarus regretted all of them. He hadn't really meant to bring their deaths up at all. Damned alcohol. But that too was his choice.

He stopped, the tavern distant and the voices and sounds from within faint, and turned to face his prince. He held him by the shoulders and studied him a moment, searching for... he didn't know what. The edges of the mask, he supposed.

"What we did... that night, we did with pride and heads held high," he said softly, then drew the younger man into his arms and held him close to his chest. "Never think even once in your life that you forced me to do anything, or that my fate and misfortunes were somehow your fault. I followed you because you were my king, my truest friend, and..." That he didn't finish, letting it trail off into the night.