Siriin pointed to the plaque. “What does it say on there? I don’t recognise the letters.”
“Probably because it is not New Krytan,” Evangeline got up and opened one of the drawers in the table, fishing out a heavy tome. “It is in Old Krytan, which is essentially the noble version. As much as my father loves Kryta, he still wants some distance between himself and the smallfolk, and that just happens to be language.” Siriin looked at the title of the tome. ‘The Art of Old Krytan, by Vasco de Bartolo, 1188 AE’ was written in bold gilded letters. “If you are interested in learning it, you can borrow that. I can’t personally find the time to get stuck in, what with my duties.”
Siriin cautiously opened the book. The lettering inside had clearly been carefully penned and the whole tome well-preserved. “I would be honoured,” she looked up at the commander, “perhaps I will be able to talk with your father like this one day.”
Evangeline chuckled. “I would love to see that,” her smile faltered for a brief moment, “maybe that would put a smile on his face, too.” Clearing her throat, the commander closed the drawer and walked briskly# to the door. “Now, we must continue this another time. I must make sure all is well before darkness sets in.” Siriin understood the hint and hurried out, the leather-bound tome held carefully at her side. As Evangeline hurriedly left to do her own rounds, Siriin found it difficult to forget the commanders smile vanishing.
2 more weeks passed. Siriin had awoken, uneasy, to find the garrison still asleep, bar a few sentries on the walls. The sun was still down, but the jungle was still very much awake, all manner of forest creatures lurking about in the trees surrounding the clearing. Unable to go back to sleep, she went to her workbench and lost herself in the craft for a few hours until the sun had risen and the garrison was back to its midday buzzing self. As she watched the humans going about the days work, she thought on why she had been unable to sleep, and found that the garrison no longer had that feeling of mystery that she felt when she had first arrived. She had no doubt there were still many things she could learn about humans and the world they came from, but the wanderlust had begun tugging at her again. But before she could think more on the matter there was a burst of activity on top of the gate.