Jesper's from Ketterdam where it's a merchant ruling class, not royalty, that's in the other places, so he doesn't have a type of reverence so to speak for the title. Nikolai's a king and he respects him, adores him even, but all he understands of the position is that it's a headache. He used to hate any kind of responsibility outside of his direct connections in the gang, and now Jesper has far too many of them because of the friendships he's formed. That's just a group of people, he can't imagine having to care about entire countries. Yuck. It would make him sweat to picture himself in that role.

Becoming a god he can handle. Being royalty, not so much.

Jesper listens to him explain how his land works but it may be a bit over his head. Then again, if he tried to explain the politics of his land, it would be a headache. Even he doesn't understand it half the time. "So your father is the king of Almyra, your mother is the daughter of a duke in Fodlan?" He's trying to keep it clear in his mind. To be two different noble lines, very complicated. His blood might be very blue indeed. "My parents were from different nations that didn't agree on anything, but they were just farmers." He looked more Zemeni than Kaelish so few people could even tell that Colm was his father at first glance.

"I wouldn't want to be born into all that expectation, it sounds stressful. And of course you didn't go the easy route of just becoming a rich, shallow princeling." Which he could and probably other people would have. Not Claude though. Too good by half. Jesper sits up slowly and leans into his side, putting an arm around his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter to me what you were born as, Claude. What your title is or whatever fancy long name it makes yours, it doesn't change who you are to me." His other hand caresses Claude's cheek, turning his head toward him. "My dear, dear friend."