"Thank you, sir."
"I should be thanking you..." The middle-aged mage who had cast the spell on Little Smo lowered his staff and sighed wistfully. "The last time I dealt with Ratfolk Language Proficiency, I was still an apprentice. Our strict mentor Sero required each of us to master ten First-Circle Spells. To make things easy on ourselves, we chose Common Tongue, Elvish, Orcish, Dwarvish... and Ratfolk Language Proficiency. Ah, those were the days."
After being forced to listen to the Mage Tower Mage reminisce for ages, Little Smo was finally let go. He hurried back to the camp.
"Hello, I'm Little Smo... Hello... Hello, Lucky Mouse..."
Little Smo practiced Ratfolk Language all the way back. He felt like a snake, spraying spit whenever he opened his mouth.
The Ratfolk Artisans were still eating the food Little Smo had carefully prepared. Ratfolk made no distinction between staples and side dishes, so their meal was a brown paste of crushed bread, pumpkin, and minced meat stirred together with sauce. It looked... less than appetizing, especially served in buckets, but it tasted surprisingly good.
If its appearance hadn't been so easy to misunderstand, Little Smo would have promoted it among the workers.
"Hello, Lucky Mouse."
Having picked Lucky Mouse out with ease, Little Smo walked over and spoke in Ratfolk Language.
"Human thing! How do you know the Holy Race Language?"
Ratfolk Language had plenty of breathy sounds suited to rodent mouths. Speaking it, Lucky Mouse sounded nothing like the bumbling creature he did in other languages.
"I just learned it at the Mage Tower."
Magic was incredible. A moment ago, Little Smo hadn't even known how to say hello. Now Ratfolk Language came effortlessly to him, right down to the distinctive curses of different clans.
Why did Ratfolk Language have so