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"You said husbands," says maybe-a-witch. "And I like the Enchanted Forest, I don't want to go marry the princess of Linderwall or wherever; I imagine they'd oblige me to live there."

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"Did I say I wanted to marry you? I did not say I wanted to marry you! But yuo'd totally look good in a crown. And you've got sense."

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"Tony is flirting," Sherlock translates. "And Tony's flirting is not principally matrimonial in nature."

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"I didn't say she wanted to marry me," Maybe-a-witch points out to Sherlock, "I'm just ruling out all the candidates for Ways Around Being Unqualified To Wear A Crown and two of them are in my house, ruling themselves out. Since I've already decided against violent conquest, you see."

And she turns to Tony. "Yes," she says gravely. "I do indeed have sense."
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"...Not to speak to the likelihood of such an event," says Sherlock, "but technically the need to find a suitable future monarch-consort and the need to find someone to create suitable future monarchs with are separate items that could be dealt with separately. And there are two of us."

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"Duly noted!"

And she bites into her biscuit.

"But," she says, "why is there a need to find the first thing, if we consider the second potentially unrelated? Do you two not particularly like monarching?"
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"Monarching is boring," says Tony. "I take after Dad; I'd rather drink, flirt, and tinker with magic artifacts."

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"Oooh, magic artifacts," says she-who-has-not-yet-been-asked-for-her-name. "What kind of artifacts?"

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"Please tell me you've heard of the Skyvault," says Tony. "Otherwise I might have to take away your 'Magic' sign."

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"Of course I've heard of the Skyvault," says she-of-the-"Magic"-sign dreamily. "If I thought arbitrary visitors were allowed I'd have hiked all the way to the castle just to look at it."

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Tony laughs. "You can come to the castle and look at it if you want!"

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"Will I be allowed to touch it - get a really good look?" asks maybe-a-witch, bouncing in her chair. "Or does it repel people who aren't members of the family, or something?"

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"You can't mess with it," she cautions. "I mean, no casting spells on it, no hitting it with sticks. But you can walk up and stare at it to your heart's content."

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"And can I wear my funky magic-seeing glasses while I look?" she says. She leans over and opens a drawer and gets them out; they're black metal and multicolored lenses that can drop down in front of the wearer's eyes in arbitrary combinations. "Some big enchantments are shy and don't like it when I do that."

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"The arch isn't really an enchantment," says Tony. "It's a... well, anyway. Funky magic-seeing glasses are fine. How do they work?"

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"Oh, I'm very proud of these! They're something like window enchantments actually - the easiest way to do something new is to pivot from something that already works; you wouldn't believe the thousand ways you can modify the average dragon spell - this lens here actually borrows from a bit of wizard magic, although I was very careful to source its power ethically, I have dragon friends - and this lens does sorceress-sight, and this is my very best attempt at turning fire-witch item-reading into a visual format that someone who's not a fire-witch can use - and this one is a unicorn spell, originally designed for use on pools, but glass is so receptive, it'll take almost anything I can think of to throw at it, I love glass - and these two lenses are both elven, but this one is boosted with some squirrelish properties, wasn't that a trick, took me weeks to figure out, that's to make it easier to trace a complex bit of magic I'm looking at - this one and that one are both witchcraft, but this one is with-cat and that one is without-cat, I could go on about the differences that makes all day -"

Maybe she is not a witch.
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Of course she isn't.

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"That," says Tony, "is awesome."

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She grins.

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"So the Skyvault's not shy, then?"

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"Nope!"

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"Excellent! Let's see, it'll probably take four days to get there, longer if I bring Cricket, but it's possible I can get a ride from Kexan and then it's down to hours, but Kexan won't have the patience to watch me stare at it for hours so I'll still have to plan to hike back..." She puts her spectacles back in their drawer, closes the drawer, opens it to reveal not spectacles but a stack of notebooks and a heap of pens, and starts writing.

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"Kexan...?"

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"A dragon friend. He can occasionally be convinced to fly me places if I ply him with sufficient pancakes."

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