"I don't mean that I'm holding you to precisely what you just said," the man says. "But, sure, informally under a presumption of good intentions."
And they teleport.
They're in the summer villa of the Archduke Henderthane of Sirmium, requisitioned five minutes ago in a very rushed conversation with the Queen's personal balrog. It's on eighteen thousand acres, the house itself at the peak of the cliffs looking out across the Inner Sea. All the prettiest girls at the local wizard school have been dragged over and set loose in the library.
The society that made this was poor but the person who made this was rich; labor was cheap for him, and it's very beautiful stonework.