Somewhere Someplace

The few Company infantry—coat colors being of a yellowish color than black—on the other side of the gate immediately took notice of her arriving walk; they gathered accordingly.

Having approached, “Hello…” Antica tried to casually greet, standing before the closed gate. “I have been requested to come here…”

The Company soldiers looked amongst themselves, still slightly bewildered by the lady who was so obviously adorned by a Company armband.

“ Qui es ela ? ”

“ Porta un braçalet del Central Unit… ”

They began to communicate amongst themselves in their own tongue.

« … » Antica just stared… “I was requested to come here.” she thus repeated…

“ Quina ditz ela ? ”

“ Sabi pas. Parli pas lo Centralès, contrairament a de tu ! ”

“ Ai pas estudiat prou ! ”

« … » Antica, again, just stared blankly… There was an evident communication barrier…

Frankly, she was expecting these soldiers to have at least a basic grasp of local tongue, considering they were stationed in an area in which precise communication with the local population would be essential. Though, it was possible these were just…random soldiers who happened to spot her arrival as opposed to designated gate-guards.

Regardless… She was able to make out some things they were saying, albeit more by inference; there was an obvious relationship with their tongue and her own. Hmm… Although she doubted full communication would be possible given the…differences, she nevertheless could try communicating in her primary, albeit specifically in a more nonstandard and informal variant…to better match.

« Sâ potates parlare com la léngua praeferta de vos, soldates… Na jo poto alicunas comprendere… » thus Antica abruptly spoke; she tried to tell them they could speak in their preferred tongues and that she could understand…some things.

Immediately, the soldiers’ heads turned to her as they went silent…

“ Quina langue es aquela ? ”

“ N’es pas lo Provencian evidentment… ”

“ Quauque sorta del Colonial variant, benlèu ? Ne crezi pas que ai ace jamai auzit abans… ”

« … » She was not sure if they had understood; « Mî nome est… Nilja de Relevançea… » She told them her name…

“ ‘Nilha de Relevancia’ ? ” a soldier repeated; “ Ditz que ac’es son nom, crezi… ”

“ Quin nom étranh, aquel… ” another so spoke; he found her name strange, she…comprehended.

One of the soldiers approached closer to the gate, standing before her; “ D’accòrdi, madama Nily… Per que ès aquí ? ” He asked why she was here, she understood.

« Jo requestatù fuí ad venjendù hûc… » Antica answered; she was requested to come here…

“ ‘Yeu requêtat a…’, eh ? Que’la intendant de dire ? Comprendi pas…” a soldier behind seemed confused…

Hmm… Antica was paying close attention to how they spoke as they spoke. « Apoloģias. Jo requêtatù fuí de venire acc’îc » she repeated, slightly altering grammar to better match theirs…

“ Òc, ben seür… ” The soldier in front of her sight turned to his others; “ Crezi que’la diga que va demandar de venir aquí ” he conveyed to them, seeming to have understood.

« Çeù ‹ vat demandare ›, énquitne? » Antica murmured; their grammar just kept getting weirder… « Vos kâ debates modo vare de demandare lù nome meù ad los superíores vostrons, soldates… » she attempted to communicate; they should just go and ask her name to their superiors.

The soldier in front, hearing, again turned his sight to his others; “ Ela vol que nous demandem lo son nom aus superiors noustres, crezi… ” he conveyed, having seemingly understood…overall.

The Company soldiers proceeded to talk amongst themselves further, before the one in front returned his sight to her. “Espera, si vous plau, Nily…” He departed, the others remaining in place. She was told to wait.

Antica sighed… Truly, this would have been much faster had these soldiers just decided to fetch someone who could speak the local language. Albeit they might have just become curious in trying to decode her strangely related tongue, having nothing better in terms of boredom satiation.

And, quite frankly, Antica herself…perhaps…had long been waiting for an excuse to speak more in her own primary tongue again, even if…in a manner far too casual for comfort.