"Ah, I am the younger son of a Duke, so it is a courtesy title," he explains, gently correcting the other man. "My elder brother is Earl of Melton, Duke of Pardloe, to be addressed as Lord Melton, or Pardloe." He gestures at himself, a jaunty, somewhat self-deprecatory (he does realize how this all sounds) flourish. "I find myself, by comparison, merely Lord John."

"Although," he continues, with the twist of a smile, "I don't suppose that any of that matters, now that I find myself here. I am finding myself remarkably out of my depths, all things considered. Magic... Was not a thing that crossed my mind often, back home. And now I find myself faced with it almost every other step."

He inclines his head toward the other man. "You say that you are a mage, though. I suppose that it was different, in your own experience."