"I have a favor to ask of you." Kalan let the contents of his arms thump down on the sturdy oak table. Rathma glanced up from the illustrated diagram of a leg he'd been studying, and eyed the pile of books for a moment. His expression showed just a hint of confusion when he turned to his former student.

"...And that is?"

Kalan heaved a dramatic sigh. "I need you to proofread for me." He gestured at the books.

"Ah." Blinking, Rathma reached for the topmost tome. "You've finished your history?" He flipped open the book and stopped short.

"I've gotten the rough draft. I need to solidify the timeline, make sure I didn't miss anything, and make other general edits." Kalan pressed a finger to his mouth, thinking of all the work he still had to do. It made sense that chronicling Sanctuary's true history would be quite an undertaking. The Sin War itself was of course fresh in his mind, having only concluded three years ago. And it was one of the more important events he'd written about.

But he'd also tried to include all he'd learned about Sanctuary's ancient history. He'd pestered Rathma for what details he could. The Ancient Nephalem clearly had some painful memories that he avoided, but for the most part he'd been very open about their past.

This was also why Kalan wanted him to proofread. Perhaps he would write more.

Rathma had not moved however.

"Is there a problem?" Kalan leaned over his friend's shoulder. The ancient didn't reply, and instead thumbed through a few pages. His mouth tightened ever so slightly, and he slowly turned to face his former-student.

"Kalan." Rathma began, completely serious. "I cannot proofread this." He flipped the book shut.

"Oh. Is it that bad?" Kalan honestly didn't understand, and was vaguely offended. The old Nephalem was known for being blunt, but not this blunt.

"I cannot proofread your book...because I cannot read your book."

The two were still for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. A beat passed.

"I'm sorry, what?" Kalan snatched his book up, briefly horrified. He flipped through the pages a little manically. Had something happened to it? Why couldn't his former-master read it? It was perfectly legible to him-

"Kalan." Rathma's voice was quiet, but held a trace of amusement. "Nothing is wrong with the book." He reached up to retrieved the tome, and return it to the pile. The younger man simply stared at him, before finally getting a hand on his emotions.

"...You are still so vague." Kalan complained. He sighed, and circled around the desk to his own chair. Collapsing into it, he fixed Rathma with his best stink-eye.

"Start explaining. I know you can read, so what's the matter?"

"Your language." Rathma leaned back, and folded his fingers on the desk. "I cannot read the language you wrote it in."

"By...the dragon." Kalan pressed a hand to his forehead. He hadn't thought of this at all. If Rathma couldn't read it, there would be so many more that wouldn't be able to read it either. Sure, the Nephalem was ancient, but the point of his books was to preserve history. They needed to last, in order to last they needed to be readable. He would have to consider recording multiple copies in multiple languages.

"Wait a moment." The human looked up and leaned forward. "You speak the language just fine. We're speaking it right now."

"Yes. I had to be able to speak with you… it wouldn't do to be unable to communicate now, would it?"

Kalan smiled gently, "No, it wouldn't." He leaned back in his chair, and Rathma turned back to his diagram. A comfortable silence swelled between them while Kalan considered his books. He still wanted Rathma to give his input.

As though reading his mind (which he likely was) Rathma glanced back up.

"Fancy learning how to read?" Kalan offered his best shit-eating grin.