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Jann is minding his own business. He is playing by himself in the courtyard with a wooden sword: this definitely constitutes minding his own business. Nothing that follows is his fault.

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A thing that follows:

Five-year-old Milo comes marching determinedly into the courtyard, hugging his left arm against his stomach, a position that generally means he broke and set it within the last hour and it's still at the stage where any significant bump or strain will knock it loose again.

"Hey Jann," he says. "I need you to get something off a shelf for me. I tried to climb up but it didn't work."

That is probably where he got the broken arm.
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"Oh. Sure. Where?" asks Jann.

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"This way!"

He leads Jann into the castle and down to one of the treasure rooms.

There is a rolled-up carpet on a high shelf, partly unrolled and looking like it might slide off the shelf any minute now, and a stepladder next to it, and the remains of a small wooden crate scattered over and around the stepladder. Clearly, Milo tried to use ladder plus crate to reach the carpet, only to discover the crate was unable to hold up to even his tiny weight.

"I wanna get that carpet down before it falls down," he explains. "Cause it's right over that magic sword and nobody knows what the magic sword does, and dropping things on magic swords is usually bad even if you do know what they do."
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"Are we supposed to be in here?" Jann wonders.

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Milo shrugs, one-shouldered so as not to jar his left arm excessively.

"It's my treasure room, isn't it? My family's, anyway."
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"Well, yes. Where do we put the carpet after I get it down?"

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"Over with the other flying carpets, probably, unless it doesn't fly, then it belongs somewhere else."

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"Does that mean we have to test it?" Jann asks, standing on his tiptoes to reach for the carpet.

When he grabs it, he abruptly can no longer do that, because he is a rabbit. A long-furred white rabbit with brown blodges and lop ears.

"Ack!"
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"Argh!" exclaims Milo. "What kind of person enchants a rabbit carpet?! Now how am I going to get it off the shelf? ...Are you okay?"

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"I'm a rabbit? I'm a rabbit! I'm never getting anything off a shelf for you again!" exclaims Jann, performing a remarkably rabbity whisker-cleaning gesture with one paw. "And not just because I can't if I'm a rabbit!"

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"Well - well, let's go find my mother," says Milo.

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Jann hops out of the room. He has a little puffy tail. "AUNT CELYTA. MILO TURNED ME INTO A RABBIT."

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"I DID NOT TURN HIM INTO A RABBIT," yells Milo. "IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"

And there is Celyta, summoned by this commotion. She regards the pair of them.

"Hello, Milo. Hello, Jann. How exactly did you end up a rabbit, Jann?"
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"Milo accidentally turned me into a rabbit!" says Jann, thumping the floor with one of his big hind feet angrily. "With a carpet! He told me to get it from the shelf for him!"

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"Why did you tell him to get the carpet, Milo?"

"Because it was gonna fall on the magic sword and I didn't think it turned people into rabbits!"

"Why did you tell Jann in particular to get the carpet?" she clarifies.

"...Because he was there?"

"Maybe next time, when you want something gotten from a shelf in the part of the treasury room where we keep unsorted magic objects, you should look for someone who might know things about them," suggests Celyta.

"...but I thought it was just a flying carpet," says Milo.

"And now your cousin is a rabbit," says Celyta.
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"Do I have to stay a rabbit?" says Jann. "I can't be a knight when I grow up if I am a rabbit!"

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"You don't have to stay a rabbit," Celyta reassures him. "I remember that carpet. All you have to do to stop being a rabbit is stand outside under a new moon. And if you make sure to touch only the bottom side of the carpet it doesn't turn you into a rabbit at all, which is why, Milo, you should let the grown-ups deal with the magic artifacts."

Milo looks very sheepish.

"Now. Do you have anything to say to Jann?"

"...I'm sorry I accidentally turned you into a rabbit," sighs Milo.
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"Hmph," says Jann, but he follows this with, "I accept your apology. Why is there even a rabbit carpet?"

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"It used to belong to a wicked witch, I believe. She had a peculiar sense of humour. When she was defeated by a pair of clever children, we had anything of hers that still worked put into storage, to prevent the kind of mischief that might ensue if it was left unattended in her old cottage. Milo wasn't born yet at the time, so we neglected to account for him. Now what's this about a magic sword?"

"The new magic sword, the one that hero dropped off on his way through, that nobody knows what it does, it's on the table under the shelf with the carpet and the carpet's half off the shelf and it might fall on the sword and that would be bad," says Milo.

"Yes. That much is true. I'll have someone move the carpet," says Celyta. "Safely. And you are not to go into those parts of the treasure room anymore without an adult."

"But," Milo begins indignantly. His mother raises her eyebrows. He shuts up.

"You can, of course, be allowed back in if you demonstrate that you are responsible enough to handle the magical treasures safely."

"I never had any problems until just now!"

"Which is very lucky, but just now, I remind you, you accidentally turned your cousin into a rabbit."
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"When is the new moon?" asks Jann. "I don't know how long moons take to wear out."

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"I'll look it up, but I think it's tomorrow night."

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"Okay," sighs Jann.

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"You're fluffy," Milo observes.

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"I'm a rabbit," Jann says, nose atwitch with rabbitude.

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"You're a fluffy rabbit."

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"It's better than being a bald rabbit. That would look really dumb. I want a mirror."

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"We can find you a mirror," says Celyta. "Would you like to be carried, since you're smaller than usual?"

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"Yeah. Hopping feels weird."

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She picks him up. Off they go to find a mirror. (She finds one that is not magic, because a magic one might feel the need to provide unnecessary commentary.)

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Jann squirms around until he finds a comfortable way to be carried. He looks at himself.

"I'm not even a cool rabbit," he laments.
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Celyta pets his head comfortingly.

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"Why did the carpet make me a splodgy lop? I could have been - I dunno - there are cooler rabbits."

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"Wicked witches are not known for turning people into kinds of creatures the people want to be."

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"Well, she should have been a good witch with better taste in rabbits instead."

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"If she was a good witch, she would probably not have made a rabbiting carpet and almost certainly not have been defeated by clever children and left all her things for Ainar and I to deal with."

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"And then I wouldn't be a rabbit. So that would be fine too. Put me down? I want to see if I can get better at hopping if I'm going to have to do it for a whole day."

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"All right."

She puts him down.
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Jann attempts hopping.

He's not too bad at it. He manages to take a flying leap onto a table and then off of it again.
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The table suffers no damage, so Celyta does not caution him.

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Jann bops around the castle in rabbit form. He's very fast, lop ears and all.

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Milo follows him around. Chasing rabbits, even - perhaps especially - cousinly rabbits, turns out to be the height of entertainment.

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Jann is mostly disinclined to be caught, although he doesn't object to attempts, he just eludes them.

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Anyway it's mostly the chasing that's fun. Whee!

This time, Milo is lucky enough not to fall or run into anything, so he only has the one broken arm to deal with for the next week or so while it heals.
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Jann eventually has to explain to his mother why he is a rabbit. He gets a lecture about letting his cousin talk him into things he knows better than to do, and then she pets him, which he allows, and then she puts him to bed, which is kind of comically huge for a rabbit but what can you do.

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The next morning Milo trips on his blanket getting out of bed and shatters his right hip. This makes him exceptionally cranky; broken legs always do, because he can't walk on them until they're at least mostly healed, but the hip means he can't even get out of bed for the next several days. And he's never broken a hip this badly before, so he doesn't know how long it's actually going to be until he can use it again.

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Jann hops up next to him (near his shoulder, not his legs) and is a fuzzy bunny.
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Milo sighs grumpily and pets the fuzzy bunny.
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"Tonight I can stop being a rabbit," says Jann. This is good news and should therefore be cheering. "Mother made me eat vegetables for breakfast because she doesn't think I'd better have anything good while I'm a rabbit." This is minor misfortune that has befallen Jann and is not directly Milo's fault, and will probably also be cheering.

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"Do vegetables taste better when you're a rabbit?" he wonders.

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"They still taste like vegetables! I guess they're sort of interesting to chew, but they still taste like vegetables."

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"Maybe real rabbits like them better. Or it must be pretty terrible to be a rabbit."

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"Maybe. I don't know which. I'm a talking rabbit, I don't think most rabbits talk, so I don't know about other rabbits."

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"I wonder if you can talk to other animals now, like how dragons can talk to cats without being witches."

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"I tried to talk to one of the dogs that's around and it just barked and it sounded like barking. I haven't tried any cats though."

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"Maybe you can't, then." Pet pet. "You're really fluffy."

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"I know! But I can't pet myself, it's kind of frustrating."

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Milo considers this quandary.

"When you're a person again and my hip is better I can go touch the rabbit carpet and then you can pet me," he offers.
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"Oooh," says Jann, this appealing both to his sense of fairness and his sense of fluff. "...Wait, but you're not allowed in the treasure rooms anymore."

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"I never said I wouldn't go in them," Milo points out, this being the crucial distinction as far as Milo is concerned. "It wouldn't be that hard to sneak in, I bet. And if I did it right when there was gonna be a new moon, I could just go outside when you were done petting me and nobody might even know."

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"Oh, I guess that makes sense. But you're stuck in bed, now," Jann says. "And now is a new moon."

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"Yeah. I'd have to wait a month. That's how long there is between the same kind of moon happening."

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"Oh. What happens to all these moons?" wonders Jann.

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"I think it might be the same moon just being different shapes at different times," says Milo.

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"Then how is it a new moon, if it's just shapeshifting repetitively?"

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"I dunno, that's just what it's called. Maybe it's like how the start of a year is a new year?"

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"Are we living the same year over and over?" asks Jann, whiskers twitching. "That doesn't make sense, we couldn't get any older."

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"I mean maybe it's called that because the moon shapes are sort of like the moon is having little seasons in little moon-years."

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"Oh." Pause. "Wait, why do seasons exist in the first place? If the moon can have them so fast why are ours slower?"

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"I dunno. I think years are a good length, though," says Milo. "If they were shorter and the seasons went around really fast it might be harder to grow things."

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"Well, I don't think I'd mind after two more rabbit food meals just having to eat not-grown things like cheese which is made from milk and bread which is baked annnnnd bacon which is fried."

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"...I think bread is made from grown things..." says Milo dubiously.

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"It's mostly flour. Flour is milled," says Jann. "You can put seeds in it but you shouldn't because then your bread will have seeds."

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"What's it milled from though," says Milo, "wheat I think, wheat is grown."

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"Oh."

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"Yeah. So bread is made from grown things. And I like bread."

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"I like bread too. I guess years will have to stay as long as they are."

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"Yeah."

Pet pet.
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Bunnies don't do anything as obvious as purring, which is good, because Jann would be highly embarrassed if anyone knew that he was not just magnanimously tolerating all this petting.

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Milo won't tell anybody.

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Milo counts as "anyone", so he'd better not even tell Jann.

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Observe his silence.

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Distinguished, sophisticated lack of purring matches it.

Eventually Jann hops off to go out in the garden and see if anything there tastes better than carrots and lettuce. He is extremely alarmed by the shadow of a hawk, goes back inside, investigates under all the furniture with enough room for a bunny under it, submits to being dusted by his mother, has lunch (broccoli and celery and an apple slice), and goes back to Milo's room to see how Milo is faring.
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Milo is (a) reading and (b) grumpy.

"Hi, Jann."
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"Hi. Apples taste like apples, too, apparently rabbits eat apples. What're you reading? Has it got knights in it?"

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"It's boring, it's just less boring than staring at the ceiling," grumps Milo. "I wanted to read it because it's about a magic cave but I didn't know magic caves got this boring."

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"I didn't know magic caves were boring either. What's wrong with this one?"

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"I think maybe what's wrong with it is that the most boring person in the world went there and wrote a book about it."

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"Oh. Why would a boring person write a book? He'll get his boring on other people that way."

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"Maybe he wanted to. Maybe he's evil and boring."

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"Shouldn't being evil be slightly interesting?" says Jann, flopping gently and bunfully on Milo's chest.

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"Maybe not always! Maybe some people are just evil and boring and want to bore everyone because they're evil."

Milo closes his boring book and pets his fluffy cousin.
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"You could read something else. With knights in it."

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"Maybe," he sighs.

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"What're you sighing so much about?"

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"I hate being stuck in bed," he grumps.

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"It doesn't look like any fun. Too bad all the sorceresses went away and aren't around to do magic healings."

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"At least I'm not stuck here for months, like I would be if it weren't for Fairy Nightfire."

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"Yeah. She's nice."

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"She is the best fairy."

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"I would go get you a book with knights but I can't carry books until tonight."

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"Yeah."

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"I could go ask somebody to get you a book with knights."

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"It's okay." Pet pet. "You can get me one when you have hands again." (And are not so fluffy.)

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"Okay. I'm going to be a knight, though, so I need to know knight things."

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"So you can read lots of books with knights."

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"It's sort of hard to read with eyes on opposite sides of my head."

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"You don't read that much anyway," snorts Milo.

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"Well, no, but I can't play swords, either, or ride horses, because I'm still a rabbit," says Jann reproachfully, "and reading books is something you could do for me, while I'm a rabbit, if you had a book with knights, instead of an evil boring book."

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"Well, if you go get someone to get me a knights book I'll read it to you, then. But I couldn't pet you and read to you, I can't use my left arm still. And you're really fluffy."

Think of your convalescent cousin, Jann!
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"Oh. I guess you can't," muses Jann.

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"Yeah."

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"I'm glad the carpet was a rabbit carpet and not, like, a bug carpet."

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"Yeah. Then you wouldn't be fluffy."

Pet.

"Unless you were a moth or something."
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"I think I'd be scared of being petted if I was a moth. They're even easier to break than you."

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"Yeah," Milo concedes.

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"Although I could fly. Maybe it would be best if it was a bird carpet."

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"Birds break easy too, I think. Maybe not as easy as a moth though."

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"I think you can pet birds? I don't know, I never petted one."

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"I think maybe you can pet birds. But maybe not baby birds."

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"Well, I wouldn't be a baby bird. I'm not a baby rabbit."

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"Yeah. But if it was a baby bird carpet you'd be in trouble."

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"I guess. Especially if it was a not a talking baby bird carpet. I would have to eat worms and I couldn't even complain about it."

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"Ew," says Milo. "Even vegetables are better."

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"So much better. I'm glad rabbits don't have to eat worms."

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"That would be awful."

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"The worst! Maybe the witch was only about as evil as somebody who writes boring books and not really really evil."

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"Maybe!"

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Eventually Jann is bored of being petted and he lollops off. He has vegetables and a strawberry for dinner (the strawberry makes it look like he's been drinking blood and he won't let his mother clean it off, tearing off down the hall before she can come at him with a napkin). He waits for the nighttime.

When it is nighttime, he goes out under the new moon and he's a human boy again. He goes back to see Milo.
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Milo smiles a little when he sees his cousin back in his usual shape. "Hi, Jann."

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"Hi. All better. How're you doing?"

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"Bored."

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"I could bring you cards and we could play cards. I can hold cards now."

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"I'm not supposed to do things with my left hand still... maybe I can play cards one-handed, though."

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"I think you can if I deal."

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"Okay. Let's try it."

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Jann goes and gets cards, and deals them out for a game that doesn't involve reflexes or anything that would make it very important to have the cards in a certain order in one's hand.

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Milo plays! Now he is not bored.

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Good!

Jann loses. This is okay.
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It is a sign that all is right in the world.

"Play again?"
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"Sure."

They play cards until Jann's mother comes to inform him that it is his bedtime. She ruffles Milo's hair on the way out.
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Milo tolerates the ruffling.

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A month passes.

Jann, for his part, has completely forgotten about Milo's moon-relevant offer.
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So he will probably be surprised when, late one afternoon, he comes back from riding his horse and there is a small ball of silky black fluff waiting for him in the stable.
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Well, now he remembers.

"Milo?" he asks.
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"Hi," says Milo's voice from within the fluff. Some fluff wiggles near one end; on close inspection, those are two little ear-tips poking up, and some distance below them there is a small soft nose. "I'm fluffier than you!"

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"Probably it does fluff in proportion to deviousness." He picks Milo up so the horse won't step on him, sets the fluff on his shoulder, and installs the horse where it belongs. "How'd you get back in the treasure rooms without getting caught?" Pet pet.

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"I just waited until the guard wasn't looking and ran past. It wasn't hard. And it was even easier getting out, I'm so little now." Triumphant ear-wiggle.

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"You're teeny. And fluffy and black. Do you like being a rabbit?" Pet pet pet pet pet pet pet.

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"It's fun! I can hop around! But I'm scared in case I break a bone like this, cause I couldn't set it by myself."

His parents have tried to discourage him from doing that, but Nightfire's blessing means that it's very easy to set Milo's bones, and he can almost never be bothered to go and get an adult and make them do it if he still has at least one working hand that can reach the problem area.
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"Well, I won't drop you," promises Jann. "And if you break something anyway I can set it probably."

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"Okay."

This is a satisfactory arrangement. And being petted as a rabbit is nice.
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Pet pet pet. Jann goes out of the stable but doesn't go indoors lest someone notice the rabbit in his possession and get Milo in trouble for trying to be fair.

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Milo doesn't actually know when it will count as being out under the new moon, but clearly that time has not yet come, because he remains teeny and fluffy and a rabbit.

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Jann decides to sit down because this makes it less likely that he will drop Milo injuriously whenever this event occurs. Much petting ensues.

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Milo remains teeny and fluffy and a rabbit until a little after sunset, at which point he reverts to a human, still perched in Jann's lap. He giggles and hops triumphantly to his feet.

"I did it!"
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"Yeah! Thanks! You were super soft."

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Milo beams.

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When Milo is not quite ten and Jann is not quite twelve, the Duke of Ferdinandia dies. His fifteen-year-old grandson Reko inherits.

Ainar and Celyta and a vast array of miscellaneous Raxwellian nobles - and Milo, and Jann - all go to Ferdinandia for the funeral. It is huge and impressive and there are solemn speeches and wine and less-solemn speeches after the advent of the wine. The new Duke Reko puts on his half of the crown of Raxwell, and nothing happens, not that anyone was expecting it to; it just falls over the way half a crown will tend to when you put it on someone's head. Later, in private, Reko and Ainar try to fit their respective halves back together. It doesn't work. It has never worked, but there's not much to do other than keep trying.

Reko escapes the ceremonies at the earliest polite opportunity. There aren't many places he can go and completely avoid well-meaning strangers congratulating him on his new title or wanting to talk about his grandfather... but his little Raxwellian not-cousins aren't strangers. He seems to remember someone having let the children into a courtyard earlier. He finds it.
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Reko has the distinction of being the only person other than Ainar who has ever beaten Milo at chess. Milo respects him greatly.

When Reko enters the courtyard, Milo runs over and hugs him.
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Jann pays attention to the possibility that Reko might want to hug him (what with the deceased grandfather), but isn't quite so spontaneously enthusiastic about it.

"Hi," he says, trotting up behind Milo.
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Reko seems pretty content with his Milo-hugs. He sits on the cobblestones and hugs back.

"Hi. I'm a Duke now," he sighs.

"I saw," says Milo. "It didn't fix the crown."

"There was no reason it would've."

Hugs.
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"I don't think I understand how that's meant to work anyway. The crown," says Jann, sitting down too.

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"Well, back when Raxwell was one kingdom, it had one entire crown," says Reko. "Then its king made some bad decisions, and it split into two half-kingdoms with half a crown each. The Dukes of Raxwell and Ferdinandia have been trying to put the crown back together ever since, but nothing's worked yet. Before it came apart, the crown would glow when crowning a new king, and if it didn't glow that person couldn't be king, and that's why we're dukes instead."

"The bad decisions were kind of funny," opines Milo.

"I think they were less funny to the people involved," says Reko.
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"What've they tried?" asks Jann. "Glue?"

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"It's a magic crown," says Reko. "It came apart by magic and it has to go together again by magic or it's not going to work."

"And if it doesn't work my bones stay messed up forever."

"That too."
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"Well, they've tried magic, then, I assume? Somebody magic has tried it. Or they tried magic glue."

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"Fairy Nightfire looked at it," says Milo. "And she said if the two halves of the kingdom married back together it would work. But I don't have a sister and neither does Reko."

"She also said that just trying to stick it back together with a spell wouldn't do anything good. I think magic glue falls into that category," says Reko.
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"Oh. So it has to wait for like a long time."

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"Yeah," says Milo.

"Probably," agrees Reko.
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"Probably?"

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"Something strange might happen," says Reko. "Sometimes strange things do."

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"That's true. Like the time Milo turned me into a rabbit."

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"Yes. Like that."

"It was an accident," says Milo, aggrievedly.
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"Yes, which is why it was so much stranger than the time you turned you into a rabbit, that one not being an accident."

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"...Oh?" says Reko.

"You can't tell anybody!" says Milo. "I wasn't supposed to. But Jann was so fluffy and he didn't get to pet himself while he was fluffy, so I snuck into the treasure room again and touched the rabbit carpet and snuck out and let him pet me while I was fluffy. I was even fluffier than him."

"I see," says Reko. "And nobody knows about this?"

"Except us and now you."
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"It's Reko, he's not going to tell anybody. ...Unless being a duke makes you officially a grownup all of a sudden."

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"I think it does," says Reko. "But it also means there's no one I have to tell things to if I don't want to."

"Good," says Milo firmly.
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"That's nearly as good as not being a grownup yet," nods Jann.

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"I agree," says Reko.

Milo giggles.
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The funeral proceeds funereally.

The Raxwell contingent goes home.

Jann develops a crush on the stable groom's daughter, who is four years older than him and thinks this is cute and gives him enough tidbits of attention that it's a long time in winding down. When it does wind down he promptly develops a crush on a village milkmaid, who doesn't think it's quite so cute; when he has wrested his attention away from her it is pretty clear that "Jann is fascinated by damsels" is going to be an ongoing theme.
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Milo is entertained by Jann's girl problems for about a week. Then he is bored. Then he is exasperated. He doesn't see what's so interesting here.

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"Well, they're - you know, damsels! I'm going to be a knight and you're already a prince, we are supposed to be interested in damsels. And rescue them from things and then kiss them, it's like a rule."

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"You can if you want," snorts Milo. "I'd rather play chess than kiss girls."

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"I should see if Alirra wants to play chess or something," says Jann dreamily, Alirra being the name of a baron's daughter who is Jann's current object of affection, about the same age, and willing to indulge him some of the time.

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"If she beats you, tell me and maybe I'll play her too."

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"You wouldn't even properly appreciate it," says Jann loftily.

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"I appreciate chess way more than you do!"

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"Yeah, but I appreciate Alirra more than you do! You can play chess with your dad."

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"If she only wants to play chess for weird reasons then fine, but if she likes it and she's good at it then I don't have to not play her just because she's a girl that you like."

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"I mean, I guess, but if she's going to be over here I want to hang out with her," says Jann. "I like her. If anything carries her off I'm going to rescue her and then I will get to kiss her, she said if I rescue her from something for real I can have a kiss."

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Milo makes a face. "Kissing is gross."

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"No it's not! I thought so too but it isn't."

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"Well, you can go kiss girls then. Maybe if you did it more you'd talk about it less," Milo says optimistically.

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"Well, I haven't rescued Alirra from anything, not actually. And I don't really want something to carry her off, either," muses Jann. "If something did I'd rescue her but probably she wouldn't like it very much all together."

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"Kiss a different girl," Milo suggests. "One with lower standards."

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"I like Alirra right now. Maybe later I'll find a different girl I want to kiss who wants to kiss me."

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"Or maybe you should tell Alirra that getting carried off by something isn't any fun and if she'd want to kiss you after you rescued her from something maybe she should just skip the bad part," says Milo thoughtfully.

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"Ooh! That's a good idea."

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"Yeah. Do that," says Milo.

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"I will next time I see her." Nod, nod.



Alirra proves unmoved by this line of argument, alas. Jann moves on to someone who doesn't need to be argued into kissing him in due course. It doesn't really make him talk about it less.
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Well, that's annoying.

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Jann ignores Milo's annoyance! He has a girl to kiss. All is right with the world.



Predictably enough, when Jann is not quite fifteen he is enrolled in knight school, where he will receive more systematic education in knight-related subjects and acquire knightliness-inclined friends with whom to practice knightfulness, with a view to being formally knighted when he's probably about eighteen.

Jann likes knight school quite a bit and usually forgets to write home until he has three or four insistent letters from his mother or other relations piled up on his knightstand.
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Not-quite-thirteen-year-old Milo (and, subseqently, quite-thirteen-year-old Milo) writes him about once a month, asking after his knightly adventures. The regularity of the letters suggests that his mother is probably reminding him, but he is legitimately interested in the subject even so.

Somewhat wistfully interested. Milo cannot go to knight school. He has tried learning several weapons, and although he's quite good at archery, any kind of fighting that involves two or more people hitting each other with things will inevitably break his bones even when his opponent is trying to be gentle. Milo would love to go to knight school, would probably even be allowed to go to knight school, but there's no way he could be the kind of knight who saves damsels from being carried off by monsters. At least not if he had to do it with a sword.



Halfway through Jann's first year at knight school, he gets a letter from Milo two whole weeks ahead of schedule. I bet I had a more exciting day than you! it begins. A giant tried to pillage the town I was visiting with Mom and Dad, and I argued him out of it! His name is Porabor and he's surprisingly nice for a marauding giant. Dad's going to let him move into that old ruined castle near the southern border, and send some people to help fix it up for giant habitation, in return for Porabor not marauding anymore and helping us clear out blocked roads and similar.
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That is way more interesting than my day! agrees Jann when he gets around to reading this letter and writing back. All I did today was have various kinds of practice. Nice work with the giant! I know how to fight them but only in theory and it sounds a little too interesting all around. Why did you even start talking to the marauding giant in the first place though?

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Well, I was hardly going to go after him with a sword. Talking seemed the safer option.

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No, I don't mean why didn't you go after him with a sword, I mean why did you do anything at all?

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He was trying to pillage the town, was I supposed to just let him?

One might almost develop the impression that Milo is trying to avoid bringing something up.
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Jann doesn't bother replying to this letter. When he is home from school on a break he corners Milo and says, "So what's the whole story on the giant thing?"

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"Hi, Jann, nice to see you, Jann," says Milo, rolling his eyes.

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"Nice to see you too. Spill."

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"Ugh. Fine," says Milo. "He got confused and thought I was a princess and tried to carry me off. I set him straight, he came back and put me down and apologized."

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"How did he confuse you for a princess, Milo, were you wearing a dress at the time?"

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"No!" he exclaims. "I was wearing, you know, usual clothes! Prince clothes!"

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"Were you hanging out with princesses? If you know princesses you need to introduce me."

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"I was not hanging out with princesses. Why would I introduce you to princesses? You'll just start kissing them and then probably want to tell me all about it."

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"I could shut up about it if it would get me introduced to princesses!"

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"Why do you want to be introduced to princesses in particular?"

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"They're all... princessy. But anyway I know you don't care so tell me about the giant instead, I'm sure you'd prefer it."

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"Well, he was really embarrassed about his mistake, so he listened to me when I suggested he look into alternative career paths. And Dad said he wouldn't mind pardoning him for the one attempted pillaging, since he did seem to be very sorry about it, and they talked it out, and now Porabor lives in the southern ruins and we send for him whenever somebody needs something really big and heavy moved."

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"That's useful, then. But how did he even make that mistake? You don't look like a girl. You're little, but that probably won't make you look like a girl even from far away until you're at least my age, maybe older."

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"I have no idea. Porabor has no idea either."

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"Well, I'm glad I didn't have to be hauled home from school to rescue you from a giant. I'm not even especially good at giants."

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"I can rescue myself perfectly well, thanks."

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"You can if a giant carries you off, apparently. Giants can talk. What if it was a manticore?"

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"Well, it wasn't."

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"I'm good at manticores, though. I mean, in theory. I haven't tried fighting a real manticore yet."

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"Do they have fake manticores for you to fight?"

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"There's an enchanted marionette."

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"Cool."

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"It's fun! I wish you could come."

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"Me too," he sighs.

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Jann pats him on the shoulder. "So what've you been up to besides getting mistaken for a princess and not kissing any girls, huh?"

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"Oh, you know. Breaking exciting new combinations of bones. Learning statecraft from my parents. Visiting Reko with Mom."

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"I hear if you break your shoulder and all of the opposite toes and both elbows you win a stuffed unicorn."

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Milo snickers.

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Jann enjoys his break and then goes back to school. Swords! Horses! Manticore marionette! Protocol and tactics and tourneys and armor and lances and calisthenics!

Jann does solidly okay on everything. It would be pretty hard to be more exactly smack dab in the middle of what is expected of knight students, down to being slightly better at some things than other things but the whole shebang being a wash.

When they reconvene there are also new would-be knights, and it is customary for them to get shepherded around by preexisting students. Jann had one; they're still friends. He turns up to be assigned one of the newbies himself.
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His assigned newbie is a boy named Glynn. It's easy to pick him out of the gaggle, because he is the youngest, shortest boy present, just past thirteen in contrast to everyone else's fifteen-or-nearly. He has bright green eyes and bright blond hair and a positively scintillating smile.

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"Hullo, Glynn, I'm Jann," says Jann, when he has located his assignment. "Are you as young as you look?"

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"Nice to meet you, Jann! I don't know, how young do I look?"

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"About thirteen? I know they sometimes take younger students but I don't know how you're supposed to manage it, what did you do, beat a teacher in a duel?"

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"I turned thirteen last month. And, well, not a teacher..."

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"Okay, better stay on your good side, noted! On that note, want a tour?"

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Glynn giggles.

"Yes please!"
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So Jann shows him around; he picks a different route from the other pairs to avoid traffic. "You always want to be a knight?" he asks. "Or did you wake up the other week having come over all swordy?"

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"No, always, definitely always. What about you?"

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"Also always. But I have never beaten a teacher in a duel. I can try to trade you with the best in my year if you prefer to have a buddy who is similarly impressive."

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"Not at all! I like you. We should be friends," he says firmly.

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"Can't scare me. So over here are the stables, did you bring your own horse?"

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"I don't have a horse," he admits.

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"Okay, you can use school horses, avoid the big black one, he bites. You can borrow mine too if I'm not using her and you know what you're doing with a horse, she's the strawberry roan paint over there, see? Name is Morganite. I think that's a rock, I let my cousin name her because I couldn't think of anything."

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"I can ride. I'm not as good at it as I am at other things."

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"Well, that's what school's for."

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"Yes!"

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"So those're the stables and up here is the practice yards, that's where we have tourneys, jousting goes over there, there's the archery range but that's pretty much optional once you know which end of a bow's which, I skip it."

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"I like archery," says Glynn.

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"Then the archery teacher will like you, she gets very tired of people dropping out of her sequence when they're allowed."

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He giggles.

"Does anyone stay in it? I can't be the only person in the world who thinks archery is fun."
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"Yeah, some people, just not most of them."

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"I'll be one of the weird ones, I guess. That's nothing new."

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"No? You are the only would-be knight in an entire village full of knitters and pumpkin-gardeners and competitive scone-bakers?"

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"Not exactly. Do you actually know any competitive scone-bakers? Are there scone-baking competitions I've been missing out on all this time?"

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"There are baking competitions. I don't know if they get as specific as scones. But they're great to attend because the judges don't tend to finish a whole batch of anything and people can take some!"

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"Next time you go to a baking competition I want to come."

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"When I wind up going to that sort of thing it's usually with a girl, but we could double-date, if you brought one of your own."

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"I don't really know any girls. Not to go to baking competitions with, anyway."

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"Well, I know what to do, then, next time I get the 'oh but my friend will be lonely' bit from somebody. Long as her friend isn't too much older than you, I guess."

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Glynn giggles.

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"Which is good! My other friends respectively have steady girlfriends or like boys or do not care for baking competitions and similar. You fill a niche. Congratulations."

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Glynn giggles again.

"Like boys and don't like girls, you mean?"
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"Yeah, that's what I meant. Or only like girls about as much as I like boys."

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"Oh? How much do you like boys?" he wonders.

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"I basically didn't notice that it was 'at all' until I'd been mad about girls for a couple of years? And then a girl expressed the opinion that boys should kiss each other more, so me and the other fellow in the room sort of shrugged at each other?" Jann shrugs illustratively. "Very much an afterthought."

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Glynn laughs. "Oh. I like girls and boys about the same amount, I think. I haven't noticed a difference, anyway."

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"Yeah, that happens too. Usually if I get the 'my friend will be lonely' thing the friend's a girl though. Though one time it was the girl's twin brother."

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"What is the 'my friend will be lonely' thing, exactly?"

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"Oh, I'll be talking to some girl - there's the magic manticore marionette, it's fun! - and we'll be trying to make plans and she feels responsible for entertaining her friend cousin sister next-door neighbor classmate whatever during the time we'd like to have our date, and then the plans are on if and only if I can find a date for this extra person. It's perfectly understandable. I'd probably have done it myself once or twice if my cousin ever showed interest in, like, company as desirable for things other than chess games and would find it helpful."

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Giggle.

"Your cousin doesn't like anyone that way?"
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"Not yet. He's about your age, some people take a while. Or just remain perpetually confused, I suppose."

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"He can just play chess instead, I guess."

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"He is very good at chess."

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"I should play him!"

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"Oh, you like chess? Sure, why not, you can do it over the mail, right?"

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"Yes! It isn't as much fun as in person, but it's still fun. Where does your cousin live?"

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"The ex-royal ducal castle of Raxwell. I live there too, but he's the actual prince, I'm just his cousin."

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"Oh! That's exciting," says Glynn. "Well, maybe not to you, I guess."

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"I don't want my life to be quite that exciting. Too much statecraft, not enough swords."

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"Castles are kind of exciting, though. To me."

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"Oh, that. Yeah, that's not very exciting to me, I grew up there."

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"Maybe I can visit sometime. And be excited about your cousin's castle."

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"Sure, why not? You might want to get your own horse if you're going to make international trips like that, though, unless you packed a flying carpet."

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"I probably should," he agrees.

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"Horse breeders sometimes come around and try to advertise to us, since we're in the market."

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"Do you know things about horses? Could you help me find a good one?"

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"I know a few things. I'm not an expert but I'll help. First rule: don't get one that bites."

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"That does sound important."

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"Yep! If you disobey this rule you will find tadpoles in your drinking water for a year and a day. Also your horse will bite you."

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"I do not believe you about the tadpoles," Glynn asserts.

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"You caught me. That part only lasts a month. But horse bites, ah, horse bites are forever."

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Giggle.

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"Anyway, play chess by mail with Milo and he'll love you, win and he'll love you more but it will be a snarly love."

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"Snarly love is fine with me."

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"It seems to work for the, like, two people who've ever beaten him."

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"So he's very good at chess?"

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"Yeah. His dad can win, Reko - duke of Ferdinandia, technically no relation if I recall right - can win, I think that's it."

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"So I'll be in distinguished company if I beat him."

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"Yep. I play him sometimes but I never even expect to have a shot."

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"I'll give it my best," he says, grinning. Jann has no way of knowing this, but it is the same grin he grinned when he asked how many instructors he would have to beat in practice duels before they'd let him into the school two years before the normal age with no money, no disclosed lineage, and no recommendations.

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"And here's the dormitories. Your cohort's going to be down that hall, they don't assign rooms, just pick one that nobody's in and it's all yours. I'm upstairs, third on the right, if you have any questions you want to bring to your, what's my formal title, mentor? I will also be upstairs if you do not."

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Giggle.

"Okay!"
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Jann grins and trots up the stairs.

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Glynn does not have very many questions to bring to his mentor. He lets Jann know when he picks a room, and he asks how to address a letter to Jann's cousin, and every so often he seeks Jann out for a chat.

He is very, very good at nearly everything they teach here. His worst subjects are etiquette and equitation, but only in comparison to his astronomical talent at all the martial disciplines; he's still in the top third of both.
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Milo, for his part, sends letters to Jann more frequently when he's exchanging chess moves with Glynn as fast as the couriers will carry them. He is impressed with Glynn's chess ability, although to no one's surprise Milo still wins their first game.

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Jann is supportive of his, wosscalled, mentee! Yay! And it is good that Milo has a willing chess victim.

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Glynn has been playing chess with Milo for a month and a half (and has known Jann for only a few days longer than that) when he knocks excitedly on Jann's door one afternoon.

"Jann, Jann, guess what I did!"
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"Rescued a damsel? Thwacked a teacher? Rode the big black horse for a league without getting bitten?"

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"Beat your cousin at chess!"

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"Wow! That's even more impressive. This is what, your second game, now? He will have you in his castle to play chess with come fire or flood."

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"Hopefully there will be no fire or flood. That would interfere with playing chess."

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"Yes. Yes it would. Well, maybe depending what was on fire."

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"If anything is on fire that should not be on fire, I would rather deal with it before playing any chess."

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"That's fair."

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"I thought so, yes."

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"I should go catch up on my correspondence, if Milo has even noticed that you give him a close game I'm probably already supposed to bring you home with me."

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Glynn laughs.

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Indeed, when the term ends Jann brings Glynn home with him.

"Hi, Milo!" he says when he has located Milo. "This is Glynn, your chess nemesis. Glynn, this is Milo, my cousin." Glynn has already been briefed on "be careful not to break him, he's under a faerie curse".
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"It's nice to properly meet you!" beams Glynn.

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"Same to you," says Milo. "He's not my nemesis, Jann, he's still only beat me once."

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"On your second game."

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"We've played ten more times since then!"

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"More than that, I think," says Glynn. "But now we don't have to wait for the mail, so we can play much faster."

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"Now this I am interested to see. Although I might not watch if you decide to play ten times."

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"I don't think we'll be limiting ourselves to ten."

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"Of course not."

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"Chess nuts," snorts Jann. "Just don't convince Glynn to abandon knight school for a chess career, Milo, I'd be lonesome."

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"Not intentionally."

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"I'm not going to abandon knight school."

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"Good."

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"But I am going to play a lot of chess with Milo while I'm here."

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Milo brings Glynn to a room where there is a chessboard. They play a game.

They play fast.

Milo is very excited.
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Glynn is pretty excited too!

He loses. But not catastrophically.
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Then they play again.

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If they're going to play that quickly Jann might actually sit through ten entire games.

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Glynn wins the third game.

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"Right," says Milo. "Let's play again."

He wins the next several, by varying margins.
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Jann giggles when Glynn wins.

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"You shut up."

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"I didn't say anything."

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"You giggled."

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"That's not, technically, saying anything."

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"Uh-huh."

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Jann smiles and doesn't technically say anything.

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Milo's subsequent string of victories is very mollifying.

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Glynn doesn't seem to mind losing. He has fun anyway.

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Eventually Jann gets bored and wanders off.

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Glynn spends a lot of time over this break playing chess with Milo.

He can be coaxed into hanging out with Jann too, though.
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Jann gets to see Glynn all the time at school, but he will occasionally steal him away from Milo to get a little practice in. No good falling out of condition.

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Glynn is pretty excellent to practice with! Also he thinks it's great fun.

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It is! Knight-stuff is fun! Glynn is better at it than Jann is, but oh well.

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Glynn is better at it than just about everybody. But he's happy to give Jann tips.

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And thus will Jann improve.

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Perhaps by the end of the break he will no longer be so aggressively average!

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Jann is pretty thoroughly average, but he can float on the better side of average for awhile. Pity Milo can't join them.

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He only occasionally gets grumpy about it.

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"I wish you could learn knighting. Maybe you should learn something else. You could learn magic."

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"You're suggesting I learn magic?"

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"Yeah, that's a point, you'd probably turn me into a rabbit again or something."

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"...You turned him into a rabbit?"

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"By accident! When I was five!"

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"Neither of which made me any less: a rabbit. I had to eat salad ingredients exclusively."

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"For all of a day. Almost ten years ago."

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"How did you end up a rabbit, exactly...?"

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"There's a magic carpet in the treasure room that he wanted me to get off a shelf because he didn't like how it was looming precariously over something else, and when you touch the wrong side of it, rabbit."

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"...How do you stop being a rabbit?"

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"...you... go out under the new moon. Milo tried it later, actually, for a few hours."

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"When is the next new moon?"

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"...Are you just going to go be a rabbit?"

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"Do I look like an astronomer to you? Less than a month off, that I do know."

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"I want to know what it's like!"

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"It's... like being a rabbit. Eyes on both sides of your head, nose-twitches that won't quit, hoppability. Lettuce. Heck, we're probably old enough now that you could ask permission, if you don't want to be caught rummaging in the treasure rooms."

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"I wasn't planning to just go rummage in your treasure room without permission."

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"I mean, permission from Uncle Ainar or Aunt Celyta, as opposed to, say, Milo, who has been known to claim that he as good as owns the place."

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"Hey, it's my castle too!"

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"There's probably a calendar around somewhere that says when the next new moon is, which you'd want to know in case you don't like being a rabbit very much."

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"I don't see what's not to like."

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"It makes it hard to do much of anything but chew on greens and be petted. And hop, I guess. Can't read, can't hold a sword, can't even open doors. I went outside and a hawk spooked me."

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"Well, I wouldn't want to be one for an entire month, I don't think. But I wouldn't mind just a day or two. It would be interesting."

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"So, if the new moon was last week, you probably want to experiment with the carpet some other time. I'll go find a calendar."

Jann goes looking for a calendar. When pray tell is the next new moon?
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It turns out to be in two days.

Glynn secures permission from Duchess Celyta to go touch the rabbit carpet, and the next morning, Milo takes him down to the treasure room.



He is even fluffier than Milo, a practically spherical blond orb of softness. Not even ear-tips are visible.

"It's hard to see in here," he giggles.
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"Yeah, you have a lot of fluff. Milo was pretty fluffy but I think you've got him beat," snorts Jann, trying to brush some of the fur away from Glynn's eyes without poking him anywhere a rabbit should not be poked.

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Glynn blinks at him. His eyes are still green.

"I'm proud of my fluffy accomplishment," he says solemnly.
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Milo cracks up.

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"We could try to find something to keep your fur out of your eyes," says Jann. "Some kind of hair tie. It'd look very silly but you could see."

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"I think that fur is long enough to braid," snorts Milo.

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"We could do that! I know how to do a basic braid. But you still have to tie them off eventually."

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"You can braid my fur if you like."

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"I'll go see what there is in the way of objects to make that last for more than a minute and a half."

Jann wanders off and comes back with some clips, none of which were originally intended for use by men, or on rabbits, or with the other clips in the handful (they are accumulated discards from girlfriends, not a set), but which should suffice, and he sets about braiding Glynn's fur out of his eyes.
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Glynn looks pretty thoroughly ridiculous, but he can see now.

And he is the softest fluffiest most pettable rabbit in the world, which brings him great joy.
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Not all of his fur must be braided into submission to allow him to see. So there is some to pet left! Pet pet.

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Yes. Petting is the correct thing to do with a Glynn-rabbit.

He has no dignity-related concerns here. Being petted is great and he doesn't mind saying so.
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Jann does not object to petting Glynn. Or carrying him around and opening doors for him. If Glynn gets bored Jann could probably even be talked into reading to him or moving his chess pieces for him for reasonable lengths of time.

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He is pretty content to be carried around and petted until lack-of-moonrise.

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Upon which occasion Jann lets him out into the garden.

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And he turns back into a human. There is a minor rain of hairclips.

"That was fun! I was right, this castle is exciting."
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Jann picks up the hairclips. "Glad you like it."

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"And your cousin is fun to play chess with. Maybe if I try I can beat him a third time."

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"Maybe! If you didn't try, he'd be so disappointed."

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"And I wouldn't want to disappoint him."

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"'Course not. You aren't the disappointing sort. We go back to school soon, though, and then you'll have to go back to playing by mail."

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"I'd better play him some more while I'm still here, then."

And he goes and finds Milo and a chessboard.



He does win one more game before the break ends and they have to go back to knight school.
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And then back to school they go.

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Another year goes by. Glynn and Milo play a lot of chess. Glynn continues to outshine the entire school.



A month after Milo's fifteenth birthday, he gets restless and goes out for a long afternoon ride. It's not that unusual for him. As long as he tells his parents where he's going and when he expects to be back, they judge it perfectly safe.
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Well, it's usually perfectly safe, but today a dragon swoops down out of the sky and hooks a claw into his outfit and carries him off.
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"HEY!" yells Milo. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

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"What'd you say?" asks the dragon. "Bit hard to hear you!"

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Milo considers his knowledge of dragons. Big on manners - usually give you one chance to impress them before they decide for sure whether to eat you or not - tendency to carry off princesses.

He has a sinking feeling about this.

"IF YOU DON'T MIND, I'D LIKE TO KNOW WHY YOU'RE CARRYING ME OFF," he tries.
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"Last princess ran off with a knight about five years back and it's about time I borrowed a new one!" explains the dragon jovially. "Don't worry, I'm sure someone will be by to rescue you pretty soon."

Those would be the Mountains of Morning up ahead.
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Milo sighs.

"I'M NOT A PRINCESS."
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"What was that?" The dragon's unoccupied forefoot goes up to scratch by his ear.

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Just his luck to be carried off by a deaf dragon.

"I. AM. A. PRINCE."
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"I know!" says the dragon, presumably mishearing. "My eyes aren't what they used to be but I still know a princess when I smell one."

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Milo growls under his breath.

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The dragon does not hear or reply to this.

Mountains mountains mountains.
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The mountains are very pretty. He is not too upset to appreciate this.

But ugh.
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Eventually the dragon finds an entrance to his own cave. He lands pretty neatly, hind feet first, and sets Milo on the ground and unhooks his claw from Milo's shirt. "Here we are then. In you go. Take your third left."

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Milo is mildly surprised to have been carried all the way here without breaking anything, but then, he supposes dragons have reason to be gentle with their princesses.

(Ugh.)

He sighs and follows the dragon's directions.
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The dragon trundles along heavily behind him. The third left leads to a network of caves that apparently belong to this specific dragon.

"I'm Roxim," says the dragon. "What's your name, princess?"
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"Milo."

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"Well, Milo," says Roxim, apparently not up on princess naming trends in Raxwell, "you can make yourself comfortable in that little room over there, might be dusty but there should be whatever princesses need, and I'll show you where everything else is in a couple hours."

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...There are going to be dresses, aren't there. Oh boy.

Well, maybe he can escape. And... make his way back to Raxwell from the Mountains of Morning, alone, with no horse and no map. Hmm.

"Thank you," he says, because there is no point in being rude to the dragon. Still - "I'm not a princess, though."
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"You're what?" asks the dragon, blinking.

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"I am a prince," he enunciates. "I am a boy."

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"You don't smell like a prince," says Roxim suspiciously.
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"I've had problems with this before," he says. "It's very inconvenient. The giant Porabor made the same mistake a few years ago."

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"Well, I can't just put you back," says Roxim. "Wouldn't work."

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"...Why not?"

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"Haven't got the faintest idea how to go about putting a princess back - sorry, a - you're entirely sure you're not a princess? You smell exactly like a princess and I can't see. You wouldn't be having fun with me, now, would you?"

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"I promise you, I am a prince. You could just carry me back to where you found me and put me down. I can find my own way home from there."

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"I'm not entirely sure I could find the spot again, and anyway, I'm not quite sure you're not really a princess," says Roxim. "You'll just have to wait for someone to rescue you. I'm sure somebody will be along eventually. I don't put up much of a fight."

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...Now that he thinks of it, Milo has concerns about being rescued.

He thinks of asking Roxim if Roxim has any friends with better eyesight... but maybe he'd better stay away from other dragons, who, if they noticed he wasn't a princess, might be inclined to treat him as a prince. And princes in the Mountains of Morning are usually there to fight dragons.

"Well. All right."
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"It's not so bad," says Roxim cheerily. "If I've punctured your clothes there, the King gave me her enchanted wardrobe a while back, didn't need it anymore, you'll be able to find new ones. Get comfortable."

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"...Thank you."

Oh boy.

He goes to investigate the enchanted wardrobe.

On the first try it's full of dresses. On the second try it's still full of dresses. On the third try it's full of dresses in his size, and he closes the door firmly and sits down on the floor and cradles his head in his hands for a minute, and then gets up and addresses the wardrobe.

"Look, I know this is weird, but I really am a prince and I really do need clothes. Work with me here. Please?"

He opens the wardrobe again. Now the selection looks more like something he'd get at home - a little fancier than he usually likes, maybe, but no skirts. He can live with that. "Thank you," he says, patting the side of the wardrobe. "I appreciate it." And he changes into one of the subtler outfits, with silver embroidery rather than gold.
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Roxim comes back down that area of his caves a bit later. "Come on out, Milo, I'll show you the place. There's some things that need organizing and some other things that need dusting and some of them probably need both. Can you cook?"

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Milo emerges from his new room. "Yes, I can cook. Not especially well, but I know a few things."

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"Well, that's better than nothing!" chuckles Roxim. "This way."

Roxim shows him the library and the treasure rooms and the kitchen. There is a frozen entire cow in the kitchen, thawing. Roxim does not direct Milo to do anything with this cow. "How are you on dead languages?" he asks when they're at the library.
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"I'm much better at those than I am at cooking!"

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"That'll help with organizing the books, then! Turned the place upside down the other month and still couldn't find my Duplace omnibus."

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"Sure, I'll organize your library for you."

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"There's a good princess," says Roxim, and he dragons off to elsewhere.

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"Prince," Milo calls after him.

But he's not holding out much hope of making his case at this point.

Oh well. He can organize the hell out of this library, while he's here.
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Roxim is a pretty decent host as dragons go. He doesn't nag Milo about the speed at which he's doing his assigned chores and does not invite over his dragon friends to overtax Milo's cooking abilities. He is friendly and cheerful and nearsighted and persistently confused about Milo's gender.

When Roxim is out doing something, there are two visitors to his part of the caves, both of them princesses. "Hullo?" calls one of them, echoing in the halls. "We heard Roxim had a princess?"
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Milo has by this time come to a much better accord with his wardrobe, and is wearing clothes suitable for cleaning a kitchen in, which is what he was doing before they showed up. He makes his way to the entrance of Roxim's caves.

"I'm afraid you heard an inaccurate rumour," he says, giving each princess a small bow. "Prince Milo of Raxwell. Pleased to meet you. Roxim mistook me for a princess when I was out for a ride."
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The princesses - both of whom are, in fact, princesses - peer at him.

"How peculiar," comments the taller one, a brunette; hers is the same voice that called out in his direction. "Well, I am Beryl of the kingdom of Querath, captive of the dragon Tharwex, and this is Chirailia of the Duchy of Otashire, captive of the dragon Nandgar."
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He smiles up at both of them.

"Hello, your highnesses. Did you want to come in for tea? I'm not the world's best cook but I do make a perfectly respectable pot of tea."
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"Thank you," says Beryl. "We would like that."

"I've heard that Roxim can't see very well," says Chirailia, "so he could have been mixed up, but if you're a prince, why don't you just defeat him yourself and go home?"
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"I'm under a curse," he explains. "A particularly nasty one. I'll spare you the details, but it means I can't fight. This way to the kitchen."

He leads them there and puts the kettle on.
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The princesses sit. "That's a pity," says Beryl sympathetically. "But if you're a prince is anybody going to rescue you? They couldn't reasonably expect your hand in marriage unless you have very forward-thinking parents."

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...Well, that would be one way to unite the crown of Raxwell...

Oh dear.

Banishing all thought of Duke Reko riding to his rescue (he probably still thinks of Milo as a kid anyway, and does he even like boys, Milo has not asked, Milo is still largely pretending not to like anyone), he gets out an appropriate number of teacups.

"I think once my parents find out I'm here they'll send a relative or something. They're not going to offer half the kingdom to a stranger for me, though, Raxwell has had enough trouble with that sort of thing already."
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"Oh?" asks Chirailia politely.

"I suppose a relative would also work. Although my brother tried and he lost," says Beryl thoughtfully.
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"Have you not heard the story of the kingdom of Raxwell? Would you like to?"

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"Please," nods Chirailia.

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"Well. Many years ago, Raxwell was a bigger kingdom, with a magic crown. Then one of my ancestors, the last King of Raxwell, offered half his kingdom and his daughter's hand in marriage to whichever hero could solve the problem he was having. Lot of rampaging monsters, nothing very unusual. A man named Ferdinand completed the task and claimed the reward, but the promised princess didn't like the look of him, so she ran away. Ferdinand was not amused. The king got a bit desperate, lacking any more spare daughters; he went out and found an orphan girl of an acceptable age with dreams of being a princess, adopted her on the spot, and presented her to Ferdinand. Whereupon, in protest of his insincerity, the crown of Raxwell promptly cracked in half."

The kettle boils. He pours the tea.

"Now there's Raxwell and Ferdinandia, both ruled by Dukes, because without a whole crown neither one can confirm a king. We've been trying to reunite the kingdom ever since Ferdinand died, but it hasn't been that many generations and nobody's managed it yet."
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"Oh, what a curious situation," says Beryl. "What ever happened to the runaway princess?"

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"She moved in with a retired sorceress. Never married. The king went on a quest of his own to try to convince her to come back to Raxwell in case it fixed the crown, but she told him to go jump in a lake."

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"Oh dear," titters Chirailia. "So I suppose you're hoping that one day your children and the children of whoever's ruling Ferdinandia will marry?"

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"That's the idea. But Duke Reko's not married and I'm only fifteen, so it might be a while before either of us has children." He shrugs. "Someday, I guess."

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"Why is it particularly desirable to reunite them?" wonders Beryl. "Was the crown just that lovely all by itself?"

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"It was very pretty, and a lot of people think Ferdinandia is a silly name, and like the idea of being a kingdom better than the idea of being two duchies - and for me personally, my naming-day curse ends when the crown of Raxwell is made whole."

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"Oh! How did that come about?" Beryl asks. "What an odd way to end a curse."

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"Raxwell has a wicked fairy who mostly doesn't bother anyone, but she was very annoyed that day."

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"Maybe someone should defeat her. Would that help?"

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"Unfortunately, no. It's a strong curse with a perfectly legitimate ending condition; she couldn't break it even if she wanted to, and defeating her wouldn't do a thing."

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"How annoying," sympathizes Chirailia. "I have a curse too but it's very minor. I think the faerie was running out of ideas."

"She's tone-deaf," explains Beryl.
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"That sounds slightly inconvenient for a princess. Sorry to hear it."

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"And it must have an ending condition, but no one heard the faerie say it, and someone defeated her for unrelated reasons since then, so it will probably last forever," sighs Chirailia. "But it sounds like yours is probably worse!"

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"It's a lot more inconvenient than that, yeah."

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"I didn't have any faeries around when I was born either way," says Beryl, "because my mother was in hiding at the time, but that's all long been sorted out."

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Meanwhile, Jann hasn't gotten much better about reading his mail.

He graduates from knight school and comes home to be actually knighted. He brings Glynn, because it's a special occasion and Glynn's his best friend.

Now where's Milo? It's a special occasion and Milo's his cousin.
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"Hello, Jann," says Celyta. "You didn't read our letter, did you."

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"...Uh? No. What'd I miss?"

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"Milo," she sighs, "has been carried off by a dragon."

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"Recurrence of the 'things keep mistaking him for a princess' problem?"
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"It seems so. Naturally, we would like him rescued by someone who understands the situation, because it'll be a bit of a mess if he's rescued by someone who doesn't."

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"Right. D'you know which dragon it was?"

This is Jann's Knight Face. Even though he has not technically been knighted yet.
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"Roxim. He lives in the Mountains of Morning, he's very old, and he has a reputation for being unusually agreeable for a dragon when someone comes to rescue a princess from him. But I'd still recommend that you try explaining the situation before making a more traditional challenge."

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"Right then. Can Glynn stay here while I'm off fetching Milo? I wanted him to be there when I got properly knighted and all."

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"Of course."

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And so Jann in properly knightly fashion saddles up his horse and armors up and finds Roxim's caves on his map and rides off. It takes him several days to get there.

Knock, knock?
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Milo has organized the library. And the treasure rooms. And the kitchen. And his own room. And the other rooms that don't really contain anything as illustrious as treasure but do contain an awful lot of miscellaneous objects. He has cleaned everything. He has explained his clever yet straightforward organizational systems to Roxim. He has read a few of the more interesting books.

When he hears the knock, he finishes drying the plate he just washed, to give him time to think about whether he really wants to go see who it is. That didn't sound like Beryl or Chirailia. If he's lucky, it's someone who understands what's going on. If he isn't... well.

He answers the door.

"Oh good, it's you," he says. "And just in time, too. I was starting to get bored."
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"You're welcome, Milo. Where's your dragon? I'd better try to explain rather than just sneaking off with you."

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"He's napping in the back. You can come in and have a cup of tea if you want, while we wait for him to wake up. You look very dashing. Did I miss your knighting? I missed your knighting, didn't I."

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"I postponed my knighting to come get you, Princess," snorts Jann, stepping into the caves. "We'll go home and I'll get knighted and you'll have a front-row seat."

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"Alternately, I could pour the kettle over your head," grumbles Milo, but he shows Jann to the kitchen and provides tea and does not dump boiling water on him.

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Jann drinks tea. "So what's it like being carried off by a dragon?"

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"Exasperating. But I did get to organize the dragon's library and treasure rooms. That part was fun."

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Jann sips tea. "Well, at least you had something to do."

Dragon footsteps approach and Jann puts his teacup down and clears his throat.

"I smell a knight!" says Roxim.
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"Roxim, this is my cousin Jann, who is here to verify that I am a prince," says Milo. "Jann, the dragon Roxim."

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"Hello, dragon Roxim!" says Jann politely, standing up and making a slight bow. "I don't mean to presume on your hospitality. I'm just here to clear up the misunderstanding about my cousin Milo, who is, in fact, a prince. You're not the first to make this mistake but it's probably best if I just take him home now."

"Hmmm," says Roxim. "He does smell like a princess."

"Probably he should change soaps," says Jann blandly.

Roxim chuckles. "Oh, very well, he's running out of things to do anyway. Go on then. If you'd like to tap me with the flat of your sword to have a story to embellish for all your friends, you may, since you're so polite."

"That's very kind of you," says Jann, and he taps Roxim on one of his horns quite gently with the flat of his sword, and then bows again and gestures to Milo.
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"Thanks, Roxim," says Milo. "You've been very reasonable about this, all things considered."

He finishes his tea and rinses out the cup and puts it away - Jann's too, and the teapot and kettle - and bows to Roxim and departs with Jann.
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Jann has had the foresight to bring along a second horse. Onto the second horse goes Milo. "This way. I'm glad I didn't have to actually fight him, graduation or no."

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"I get the impression he wouldn't have fought very hard even if you'd challenged him the usual way. Roxim's pretty mellow for a dragon."

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"That's lucky. I wonder why I already smell like a knight? How does that even work?"

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"Magic, probably. I'm more worried about the fact that apparently I smell like a princess."

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"Change soaps. Or something."

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"Yeah. 'Or something'. Or what?"

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"I don't know. Uh, marry up? Probably less inconvenient to smell like something other than a princess, and they're getting your noble status right, just not your gender?"

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"Marry up. Right. And smell like a queen, I guess."

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"Well, queens tend not to be carried off!"

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"Yes. That would be an advantage. However, I don't know any single monarchs I want to marry."

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"Well, you never seem to like anybody, and you can't just stay single forever unless you're planning to stick me with Raxwell. Please don't, by the way."

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"I've liked people!" he exclaims, perhaps unwisely. "I just don't tell you about it the way you seem determined to make sure everyone you've ever met knows Jann of Raxwell has kissed yet another girl."

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"Oh really? Who've you liked?"

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"Ugh. It doesn't matter."

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"But I want to know! You look so dejected. I could give you tips."

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"I'm pretty sure your tips will not help me."

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"They work for me!"

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"I'm not you!"

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"What, do you think I get damsels solely by being tall?"

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"Tall, handsome, seventeen years old, able to wield a sword without breaking your arm..."

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"There's more to it than that, though. Moping hopelessly isn't doing you any favors."

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"But it's so much fun."

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Jann snorts. "Come on, though, who? I don't even know what gender I'd be trying to set you up with if you wanted me to help."

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"I don't feel like saying!"

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"Well, it's going to take about four days to get home, what do you want to talk about?"

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"Kissed any girls lately?"

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"No, I've been busy with my final exams and riding home and finding out you were carried off and coming here to get you. Before that also no, had a dry spell."

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"Congratulations, by the way. Or should I save those for when Dad knights you?"

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"Save 'em."

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"Sure."

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It takes them several days to get home, and then Jann's knighting, a bit more than a week late, occurs. Jann looks very knightly.
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And Duke Ainar knights him, and he is a knight. They have a small feast in his honour.

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Glynn gives him a congratulatory hug.

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That is a reasonable thing to do! Jann feasts and hugs congratulatory persons and is made much of by his proud mother and tends not to mention that he had Roxim's permission before hitting the dragon with a sword when he tells the story.

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Milo declines to spoil these retellings with extraneous details.

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That's very kind of him.

It's nice to have everybody around for a while! Even Reko showed up. Probably Milo will monopolize him with chess, but that's all right.
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Reko wasn't originally going to be able to make it, but the extra delay induced by Milo's carrying-off allowed him to find room in his schedule.

He does go up to Jann once the crowd has cleared a little - Reko isn't fond of crowds - and offer his personal congratulations.
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"Thanks! I'm glad you could make it after all. Thank Milo for apparently smelling like a princess."

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He snorts softly. "Somehow I don't think he'd take those thanks in the spirit intended."

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"Probably not."

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"But yes, I'm glad I could make it too. Where is Milo? Did he steal a plate of cakes and run off? I seem to recall that's one of his favourite maneuvers."

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"I think it was marzipan this time."

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"Well, I almost had it."

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"Very close. Contains sugar. Decorative."

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"Yes."

Other people come by to congratulate Jann. Reko makes himself scarce.

Predictably, he ends up playing chess with Milo in a cozy sitting room.
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Jann wanders by later and peers into the room.

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Milo is winning.

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That was pretty predictable. Jann plunks down and watches.

And blinks at Milo.

And sloooowly tilts his head.
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Milo glances at him, looks briefly puzzled, then even more briefly alarmed, then goes right back to the game as if nothing happened.

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Reko is busy planning his next move and doesn't notice any of this.

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Jann doesn't say anything. He watches for a fairly typical amount of time and then wanders off.

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The feast ends; the various guests, Reko included, disperse back to their various points of origin. (Except Glynn, who's staying until he goes back to knight school.)

Milo continues to pretend Jann never looked at him funny.
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Eventually Jann and Milo are alone in a room and Jann says, "So that'd probably fix the crown, huh?"

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"I don't know what you're talking about. And if I did I'd tell you to shut up."

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"So I should feel free to write Reko about this hilarious totally false hallucination I had, ha-ha?"

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Growl.

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"Hey, I think it makes sense, what's got you in such a mood about it?"

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"I don't actually think Reko likes boys, for one thing. And he's five years older than me and has known me literally all of my life, for another thing. And even if he does like boys I have no indication he has ever considered liking me. And - and it would fix the crown - I can't - if I just went and asked him, he'd be in kind of an unfair position, all things considered!"

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"Do you think he'd marry you just to fix the crown if he didn't like you? For one thing even if he felt very wedged about it he could point out that you can't produce heirs. For another it doesn't seem very like him."

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"I know, but... I don't want to make him turn me down. Given everything. And if he did marry me just to fix the crown that would be - just - ugh."

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"Somebody else could suggest it," says Jann.

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"...maybe. I don't know. Not - I mean - I'm fifteen, I don't currently want to marry anyone."

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"Sure, not right this minute, but at some point. Since it would probably fix the crown nobody would have to have any inklings of anything else to bring it up, if you wanted somebody to bring it up."

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"Yeah." He sighs. "...Thank you."

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"You're welcome."



Jann's knighthood, combined with his general social position, means that he is a default escort when anyone in the Raxwell ducal family wants to go anywhere, such as when Milo is invited to Chirailia of Otashire's wedding (she has been rescued by a prince and they are in the way of things getting married).
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Milo is very pleased to go to Chirailia's wedding! He liked her and Beryl when they were all being captives of dragons together. It's nice that they kept in touch.

It grates on him a little bit that he needs a knightly escort, but it's hardly Jann's fault. And it sure beats being carried off again by who knows what sort of creature this time.

The wedding is beautiful. Chirailia and her husband seem pleased with each other. The food is also very good. Milo congratulates the happy couple, eats delicious food, and wanders off with a slice of the incredible cake. By the time he reaches the library, the cake is gone. He admires some books and then goes looking for Jann, on the off chance that Jann has not yet found any girls to kiss.

Unbeknownst to Milo, he acquires a small grey passenger during this time. She blends in almost perfectly with his fine grey trousers; one would have to be looking from just the right angle to spot the little fuzzy lump behind his ankle.
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Jann has actually found a girl to kiss (she is one of the maids and has a thing for knights! being a knight works out so well for Jann!) but he has made plans to do more substantial amounts of this later in the evening when the party has wound down more thoroughly, and he is not kissing her right now.

When Milo finds Jann, Jann peers down at him and says, "You've got an addendum on your leg, there."
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"A what?"

He twists to look. The kitten climbs around his pant leg and out of view. He twists around the other way and glimpses the tip of her tail before she whisks it out of sight.

"Hello," he says. "What's this all about?"

Tiny meow.

"I can't understand you, I'm afraid, not being a witch. Puts me at a bit of a disadvantage here."
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"I don't think witches can understand other people's cats, anyway," says Jann.

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"I'm not sure this is anyone's cat in particular."

Tiny meow.

"If we're going to have a conversation and I can't understand anything you say, it might be more convenient if you weren't clinging to the back of my leg at the time so I could at least try interpreting body language."

The kitten considers this line of reasoning, and then climbs daintily around to perch on his boot. Milo peers down at her. "Hello there. I'm Milo. And you're a kitten."

This meow has sort of a mildly sarcastic tone.

"Well, if I knew your name, I'd happily use it. Do you have one? Is there someone I could ask to find it out?"

She darts around to hide behind his foot again.

"...You don't want me talking about you to anyone?" he hazards.

She emerges into view again.

"All right then, I won't."
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"This is a very strange conversation."

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"No kidding," says Milo. "So. Kitten."

Meow.

"I don't think I'd have much luck trying to guess your name, I'm afraid. I'm not even sure what gender of kitten you are. Did you have a particular purpose in attaching yourself to me?"

She hops off his boot and walks a short distance away and turns back and climbs on again and looks up at him expectantly.

"You... want me to take you somewhere?"

This meow sounds affirmative, as meows go.

"I'm going to take that as a yes. Is this place you want me to take you any more specific than 'away'?"

Silence.

"I'm going to take that as a no. Is anyone going to be very angry with me if I let you stow away with us when we leave?"

Silence again.

"I'm going to take that as another no. In that case, you're welcome to join us."

She meows and rubs her small fluffy cheek against his leg. He smiles.
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"So now you have a cat," says Jann. "An arguably stolen cat."

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"I'd sure argue it, if the accusation was made," says Milo. "The kitten is clearly coming with us of his or her own will."

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"Yes, but it's a kitten, not a grown cat, and you can't actually understand it."

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"I don't know, I think we've been managing pretty well under the circumstances."

The kitten meows.

"Sounds like Kitten agrees. I'm going to have to come up with a name for you, aren't I, Kitten."

Meow.

"I'll think about it. I don't have any good ideas off the top of my head. Um, which variety of kitten are you, though? Boy?"

Silence.

"Girl?"

The particular meow that has come to mean 'yes'.

"Girl it is. That narrows down the name selection somewhat."
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"Are you going to name her after a rock like you did my horse?"

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"Would you like to be named after a rock, Kitten?"

A meow of a different variety.

"...Need more information to decide?" he guesses.

Yes-meow.

"The horse is named Morganite. Morganite is a pretty pink rock. You're not any shade of pink, though, you're grey and white... there's 'Silver', I guess, not a rock but the same sort of genre, do you feel like a Silver?"

Silence.

"Not Silver then. Um... how about, I don't know... Catherine?"

Yes-meow.

"All right. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Catherine. I'd bow, but it's awkward to bow to someone who is standing on my foot."

Catherine hops off his foot and strolls away a short distance. Milo grins and bows to her. She sits and starts washing her ears with one white-tipped paw.
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Jann giggles. "Are you going to teach your cat to play chess?" he wonders.

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"It might be difficult. But I do like a challenge. What do you think, Catherine?"

Unidentified meow.

"I suppose there's no good reason for you to know what chess is, being a cat. Do you know what chess is?"

Different unidentified meow.

"Hmm... was that a 'sort of'?"

Repeat of different unidentified meow.

"It wasn't a 'yes'... was it a new 'no'?"

Yes-meow.

"All right then. My Catherine-vocabulary is expanding by the minute."
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"At some point this probably counts as understanding a cat without being a witch," snorts Jann. "You'll be famous."

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"Anyone could do it if they just took the time to listen. And had a cooperative cat. And were good at guessing what questions to ask."

Meow.

"Commentary from Catherine. Proud of your choice of human, by any chance?"

Yes-meow.

Milo grins at her.
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Jann snickers. "Congratulations to the both of you, I suppose."

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"Thank you," says Milo. Catherine contributes a meow.

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Jann escorts Milo, and the cat, back to Raxwell, after they have taken advantage of the hospitality of the Otashire family.

It's not long before Glynn has been through his course of knightly study and is graduated, young but not strictly speaking early.
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Purely on the strength of both of them being decent at chess, Milo whimsically invites Duke Reko to the little party at the Raxwell castle for Glynn's knighting. Much to his surprise, Reko actually accepts.

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And shows up, and plays chess with Glynn once Duke Ainar has knighted him.

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They're about evenly matched, but Glynn wins three of the five games that they play with Milo as an interested spectator.

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"Glynn gets more practice, of the two of you," Milo suggests as an explanation for this discrepancy. "You should play more, Reko."

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"Not everyone is as enthusiastic about chess as you are."

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"You can spare a minute every day or two to play a game by mail, can't you?"

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"If you insist."

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"It's fun," contributes Glynn.

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"I'm not sure how closely your sense of fun resembles mine, in light of that story I heard about you intentionally turning yourself into a rabbit."

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Glynn cracks up.

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"What's wrong with intentionally turning yourself into a rabbit?"

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"Nothing at all," Reko says dryly.

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It's a few months' worth of chess-by-mail later when Jann observes:

"Given any thought to the thing about the crown?"
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"...not exactly, no."

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"I mean, if you're thoroughly over it and I've been imagining the way you make eyes at his letters..."

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"I do not make eyes!"

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"Yes you do."

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"Ugh."

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"I can't figure him out as well as I can you but I have no strong reason to believe he'd laugh off the idea, you know."

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"Do you have a strong reason to believe he wouldn't?"

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"He likes you? His dating history looks exactly like yours?"

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"What, 'desolate'? What kind of evidence is that?"

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"Girls who want to date dukes are a little more common than boys who want to do the same thing, if you haven't noticed, it's a better sign than if he acted like me."

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"On the other hand, if he acted like you it would be evidence that he was interested in dating anyone at all." He sighs. "I don't know."

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"That would be the purpose of asking."

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There is a meow from the floor.

"Oh, hello, Cath. We were just discussing my hopeless crush on Duke Reko."

Meow.

"You didn't know about that? I guess it hasn't come up. Well, I have a hopeless crush on Duke Reko. Jann thinks I've got a shot. Opinions?"

Cath considers this, then meows a few more times. Milo laughs.

"Well, it's good to know I'll have your support if I marry him, but I was wondering more if you thought he might like me back."

Meow, meow.

"He does play chess with me, that's true. And always responds very promptly. But so does Glynn, and I'm pretty sure Glynn doesn't like me that way."

She meows a conceding sort of meow and hops up into his lap to be petted.
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Jann sneaks a pet. "How much of that are you just making up?" he wonders.

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"None of it!" says Milo. "I mean, I have to do some filling-in, but Cath is very expressive."

Cath purrs.

"And she always lets me know when I guess wrong."

Affirmative meow.
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"I'm very impressed. Anyway, if you want me to ask Glynn if he wants to date you, I can do that too, but that is obviously much less useful, in more than one way."

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"I don't want to date Glynn," snorts Milo.

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"Good, because he has way fewer hangups than you and I think if he wanted to date you you'd already know."

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"Thanks," he says dryly.

Cath rubs her face against Milo's stomach. He sighs and pets her some more.
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"Anyway. Let me know. Actually think about it."

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"Yes. Okay. I will actually think about it," he says.

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"There we are." Pat for Cath, and off Jann goes.

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Milo snuggles his cat and mopes excessively.

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Jann goes about business as usual, plus significant looks when Milo is looking at his end of the chess-by-mail game.

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Milo lasts a week and a half like this.

Then: "Something to say, Jann?"
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"Me? No. You?"

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"Not today, huh?"

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"I don't know. Cath thinks I should just ask you to go find an excuse to bring up marrying me as a possible solution to the crown, without bringing my hopeless crush into it at all. I'm waffling."

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"That was my plan originally anyway. Perfect plausible deniability. 'Hey, Reko, know what I bet would fix the crown'."

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"Reko's pretty good at drawing people out, are you sure you could actually leave my hopeless crush completely aside?"

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"If he grills me? No. Do you think he's going to do that?"

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"I had a little trouble coming up with a plausible reason for you to ride all the way into Ferdinandia just to casually bring up marrying me if I hadn't sent you to do just that."

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"You visit him sometimes," shrugs Jann, "I escort you because that's my job, you aren't in the same room as us all the time, ta-da."

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"It's possible I'm overestimating his probable suspicion just because the ulterior motive is so obvious to me."

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"Yep."

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"It sure does feel excruciatingly obvious, though."

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"According to my girlfriend," (this title is currently held by the sister of a knight school friend), "the twin princesses of the Enchanted Forest are both married to the same woman, which I think I'd heard before, and they have kids, which I hadn't, fancy that, Reko, hey, you know what occurs to me."

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"...Okay. Sure. Fine. Let's go visit Reko."

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So after arranging the scheduling with the object of their visit, they go visit Reko. Reko isn't very far away - Raxwell did use to be all one modestly-sized country - so it doesn't take that long to get there.

Jann waits for a moment when Milo happens to be out of a room that he and Reko both are in.
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Such a moment occurs when they finish a game of chess and Milo goes to see where Cath has wandered off to.

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"Have you seen him talking to Cath? It's amazing."

(Jann is familiar with the concept of not wandering directly into sensitive topics! Really!)
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"I've heard her say his name," he says. "Well, meow it. But very recognizably. Now that was amazing. Milo having a conversation in which he provides most of the words isn't anything new."

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"They've got some sort of code worked out and he can understand her. I told my girlfriend about it and she didn't believe me, and when I insisted she told me that Milo was probably secretly a witch or something, and then she started talking about how one of the princesses of the Enchanted Forest - the one who married in, the twins both married the same woman - is a magician. Apparently they have kids, I didn't know that until she mentioned but she keeps track of that kind of thing."

Pause to gauge response...
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"I've heard."

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Pause, thoughtful staring into space.

"You know what would probably fix the crown?"
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"Hmm?"

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Doing a moderately credible job of pretending he just thought of this:

"I mean, the thing the Enchanted Forest princesses did would probably have to work, etcetera, but I bet if you married Milo that would fix it."
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Reko splutters slightly.
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Jann giggles like he's made a stupid joke as opposed to proposed something that at least one person is very serious about.

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"The princesses of the Enchanted Forest have a few things Milo and I don't, Jann," he points out. "Even if it did fix the crown, it would only put the problem off for another generation, and then you or your heirs would be left to deal with the crown's opinions of nontraditional princes."

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Jann shrugs. He is playing "this was a random idea, not important"; nitpicking about how they could actually look into that question would not fit. "Please don't make me inherit Raxwell. I wouldn't like it at all."

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"I'm not planning to make you inherit Raxwell. Have you brought up this suggestion of yours with Milo?"

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"Nope," Jann lies.

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This was a bad ideaaaaa Reko has probably figured it ouuuuut Milo will be upseeeeeet.

"Why, should I?"
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"I don't know," Reko says dryly. "Should you?"

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Yeah, "Reko doesn't seem keen", that'll go over like a lead balloon.

"Eh, probably not."
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"Because it seems," he goes on, "like you might know more than I do about Milo's opinions here."

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Jann is beginning to feel grilled. He contemplates fleeing the room. He doesn't flee the room.

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Reko waits.

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Okay this isn't working new idea.

"Okay, look, you're a bright fellow, you know one of two things is happening, either I guessed something on my own or I was told, and either way, I'm talking to you and Milo's not. Can you leave it there?"
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...He sighs.

"But it is that you guessed or were told something, and not that you're just... amusing yourself by making suggestions."
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"I am not very amused right now!"

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"Yes. I can see that."

Reko contemplates him quietly for a moment.

Then he says, "If part of the reason you're so unhappy is because you think you're going to have to go back to him with a negative answer... well."
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"Well what?"
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"Well - you don't."

Reko is much better at hiding it, but he's not actually all that much less uncomfortable than Jann.
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"I... don't." Pause. "Because...?"

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Sigh.

"Because - if he knew about this little quest of yours - you can tell him that I've been in love with him for the last several months. If he didn't know, I'd really rather you didn't try to tell him anything at all."
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"I talked him into permitting my quest and I regret doing so because it was excruciating but hey! Good results!"
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"It wasn't all that much fun from this end either," says Reko. "On the other hand, I'm completely able to imagine both of us independently deciding to quietly pine for the rest of our lives, so..."

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"Yes, that was more or less my thinking, do you object if I now bolt from the room to tell him the delightful news?"

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"Not at all."

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Jann bolts from the room in search of Milo.

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Milo is reading to Cath. The story appears to be a tragedy.

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"Hello Milo," says Jann, interrupting, "never let me talk you into anything again, but, good news, he's in love with you, go kiss him or something."

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Splutter. "What!"

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"He's in love with you! Congratulations! I am sufficiently grilled to require a side of greens, but he's in love with you!"

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"What. Thank you? Really? How - you know what, I'm just going to go kiss him, that sounds like a great idea," says Milo, and he puts his book down and takes off running.

Cath jumps down from the arm of the chair and goes over to Jann and rubs her face on his leg and purrs. This is an established sign of Cath-approval.
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Jann flumphs heavily into a chair and picks up Cath and pets her. Petting cats is supposed to be calming, right?

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Yes. Yes it is. Cath purrs and snuggles him. Perhaps she has heard that humans are calmed by purring and snuggles.



Milo, meanwhile, should probably be a little more careful racing through the halls of Reko's castle. He does all right until he actually gets back to the room with the chessboard, and then his elbow clips the doorframe on the way in and he sort of falls into Reko's arms giggling nervously and cradling the shattered joint.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Hi, Reko."
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"Hello," Reko says dryly. "I see Jann found you. How bad is the arm?"

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"Not the worst I've done to it," he says, prodding it with his other hand and wincing. "Pretty bad, though. Um. I confess I hadn't really planned this part out."

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"Me neither," says Reko. "I'm still adjusting to... anyone besides me knowing how I feel. I was very comfortable in my totally unacknowledged pining. I just about fainted when Jann brought up marrying you."

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"Well, at least I'm in good company."

He flexes his arm tentatively, hisses under his breath, and presses another loose bone fragment back in place. It's his right arm, too, this is going to be so annoying.

It belatedly occurs to him that he is sitting in Reko's lap with Reko's arms around his waist. He blushes fiercely.
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...Reko smiles.

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Milo clears his throat.

"...Um," he says, "so - we're going to have to think about the succession, aren't we."
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"Yes," says Reko. "If we intend to marry. Do you intend to marry me?"

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"The thought had definitely crossed my mind."

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"Jann brought up the Enchanted Forest princesses, but their solution obviously won't solve our entire problem, even if it would solve part of it."

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"True," says Milo. "...And while I'm thinking about it, I am going to preemptively rule that if there is any other option at all, I am not getting pregnant."

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"Reasonable," says Reko. "Other options are definitely to be preferred."

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"I'm so glad we agree."

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"...sooo," says Milo, "I actually came here with the intention of kissing you. Before I got distracted."

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"Hmm. How's your arm?"

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"Painful." He tries flexing it again. "Seems to be set all right, though, so all I have to do is be very careful with it for a week or so. That was the least subtle subject change I've ever seen."

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"It was not my best effort, I readily admit. My heart wasn't in it."

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"...Is this your convoluted, endearingly shy way of not quite openly admitting you want to kiss me?"

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"...maybe."

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"Reko," Milo says fondly.

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"All right, yes."

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Milo kisses him.

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Reko kisses back.

There are a lot of important practical concerns here that they are temporarily ignoring. Right this second, he can't really bring himself to care. They can talk about marriage and children and politics later.