"I never really mastered it any other way," Martel concedes without a hint of shame (at least he recognizes that he's an arrogant son of a bitch) as he stops at the bottom of the stairs, simultaneously given to entrances and indeed not minding at all the fact that his surroundings have thoroughly upstaged him. Considering how much personal effort was involved in them, he'll just bask in reflected glory.

"Some of the alphabets you won't recognize," he notes, observing Henry's reaction with a certain degree of satisfaction, "though I'm making a project out of translating the Elene history section." All of it, yes; it'll probably take him decades, especially considering how much else he has going on at any given moment, but that's the thing about being functionally immortal. You have so much more time.