Quentin was really struggling with their letters. They hadn't expected being a candidate would mean they would have to learn to read and write. The practical aspects, like knots and caring for a dragon all made sense to them, it was similar to taking care of the herdbeasts on the farm, just on a much larger scale. That was natural to Quentin. Contorting their hand to hold a too-small writing utensil trying to form squiggly little lines was borderline torture. Then having to go back and try and read what was written was nearly as miserable. Why couldn't they just communicate with pictures?
It had gotten to the point where Quentin was falling behind in lessons because of their struggles. One of the instructors suggested they seek out a scribe, perhaps someone who had dedicated their lives to the written word could provide some additional lessons to bolster the classroom learning. There was a father and son who were scribes and had been in Semaca for several turns now, so Quentin was given a description and some names to reach out to.
That's how Quentin found themselves in the dining hall looking for a scribe to teach them. They scanned the room, spotting a person who matched one of the descriptions they had been given. Quentin took a deep breath. They almost never initiated a conversation, but if they had to in order to become a rider, so be it. They slowly approached the man and in a careful, deep voice asked, "are you Chidi?" If it wasn't Quentin would die on the spot from embarrassment.