“It’s not gibberish,” snapped Silas, his ears ripening with red. “It’s an esteemed language of old. And no, I don’t need your help, I already don’t get any from teacher Caius. That’s the whole point.”

“How careless of you then, to let my intellect elude you." Matthias spoke with cadence of highspeak used in the courts. Overexaggerating his vowles. 

Although, I suppose tis' not your fault. Especially if thine brain has now turned to mush. Insane people truly are more willing to shoot themselves in the foot rather than be accepting of such generous goodwill.”

Silas rolled his eyes but was secretly grateful for his friend’s company. At least he didn’t have to suffer over the words alone anymore. 

Matthias too, was well read in basic Xeddan and would often help Silas late into the night with his assignments. He would read over Silas shoulder and secretly seemed to share an enjoyment for it. But unlike Silas, his background didn’t demand him to study linguistics. His father had been a knight that had unexpectedly risen to the status of a Duke and was somewhat rough around the edges, something each of his sons inherited to varying degrees. People like them were more suited to sword play and strategy.

Matthias had also inherited his father’s annoying sarcasm, never failing to catch others off-guard. And although there were times when he acted more like a commoner than someone of status, he could also be incredibly silver-tongued. People were often astounded at how well-spoken he was. It was a fact he liked to hide for some reason, but that could be picked up by only the most discerning of ears. His prose was uncanny, laced with sarcasm.

Silas liked him because of that, but also because it was quite a sight to see preening nobles at a loss for words whenever they delt with Matthias’s wickedly sharp wit. At times it seemed like his thinly veiled insults alluded to loyalty to Silas that seemed to run deeper than even Silas himself could discern; protecting him from any that might have less than kind things to say. It was obvious to many that their relationship was uncommon for most masters and their servants.

“I see that Caius set you up with a difficult passage again ” he asked leaning over Sila’s shoulder, raising one eyebrow as his face formed his signature grin. He dropped the highspeak.

Studying the words for a moment, his eyebrows raised then quickly furrowed. “Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you, my friend. Even a beneficiary such as I, cannot be bothered with such trivial problems. It is beneath me. I can however, grace you with my presence.”

Even this passage looked to be too much for him, his characteristically expressive eyebrows giving away all his emotions.

“Yes, you have truly blessed me,” Silas said sighing sarcastically.

“Why are you so caught up on the formal speech anyway?” asked Matthias slipping into a more informal Castan dialect. “You're much better than the old dogs within the court. Theis kind of prose is rarely used. It's mostly for ancient ritual nonsense.”

“Perhaps not now, but who is to say that they don’t adopt it? I've seen you read some of it for yourself before. It would be a challenge for countries to decipher it, which makes it perfect for tactical maneuvers. The way the words weave together, its enchanting- you must admit, there’s nothing else quite like it-” Silas pointed out.

“Or quite as pompous” said Matthias under his breath.

“And what’s more, “Silas said, pretending to ignore the comment as he equally pretended to dip his pen into the inkwell, “I will be able to sing praises befitting an erudite such as yourself.”

Matthias snickered. “Curses, you mean.”

After a beat they both broke out in light laughter.

Suddenly, the look on Matthias face changed, as if pondering something. He stayed silent for a minute.

“Is all this…. for your mother?” he asked finally.

Although Matthias was characteristically blunt with his words, he also knew when to tread carefully on certain topics. He knew it was a sore subject for Silas, so he asked the question but pressed no further.

“You’re almost too sharp for your own good, you know that?” Silas said, shooting his friend a look of annoyance. He slipped into informal speech too. He wondered if maybe Matthias also shared the same annoying eye-reading nonsense his brothers had. What he had brought up was just another reason he had taken up his work, and though Silas had tried to deny it to himself, it really had become an exceeding motivation.

“Yes, that’s true,” said Matthias pretending to stroke the nonexistent beard of wisdom on his chin. “I am almost too good, but that’s why it’ll be up to our future royal secretary to put me in my place.”

“If I can even get there” grumbled Silas rolling his eyes. “It’s already challenging enough trying to have full conversations with her. She won't give me a royal position as I am now. But that’s not the point anyway, I just don’t want her to feel-“

“Alone?” finished Matthias.

Silas gave a heavy sigh.

“Burdened. I look at her sometimes and she seems to be somewhere else, like she has something she’s not telling us.” said Silas quietly. “I want her to rely on us, I'm not a child anymore.”

They remained in silence for a moment. Allowing the conversation to die in the gentle breeze that made its way through the open window.

“Hmm,” said Matthias, a sly smile sneaking onto his face. “Well, I suppose it would be beneath you then, to engage in any childish activities. “But you forget Silas-,” said his friend as he rounded his chair to face him, “a healthy mind follows a healthy body. And seeing as you have been idle all day, and have no intentions of joining the festivities, I will gladly take your education into my own hands!”

Then, with foxlike speed, he plucked the quill from Sila’s hand and darted out the open window.  

“Even erudites need their exercise! Although, an orator might find such things above himself,” said Matthias over his shoulder, laughing. “I might be inclined to give you back your quill…. if you use those fancy ancient words of yours to command it of me!” He sprinted off- cackling like a madman. 

Silas sat in stalwart defiance for a moment. “He took my lucky quill,” he thought in disbelief. It had been given to him by Matthias himself. He glanced at his paper once more.

Then, giving in to the childish tendencies Matthias had known where still within him, he leaped after his friend and into the garden, cursing quietly in Xeddan as he ran. A smile slowly forming on his face.