Esperanto was sick of being a Lesser Tongue. It knew it was young (scarcely two centuries had passed since its conception, and it had not yet even been introduced into the world), and it knew that its personality was less than forceful; but sometimes it just wanted a little respect. Rights it was not so foolish as to hope for, but it would have liked to receive a civil word from the upper level of the Realms hierarchy every so often. This, however, seemed more and more like a hopeless dream with every passing age.
It brooded on this as it exited its quarters in the back bottom-end of the Indo-European castle, where all the artificial Tongues lived. It moved quickly through the stone corridors, eyes to the floor, trying not to make eye contact with any Greater Tongues passing by. Unfortunately, as usual, this did not prevent the Greater Tongues from making any sort of contact they wished with it.
Well, hello there.
Esperanto recognized the arrogant smirk in that