There's always a point in someone's life where they regret the decisions of their past. Take me for instance. I skipped my lessons as often as I could get away with, figuring I'd always have someone with me to translate or watch my back. As a prince of Al Nuzem, I was very rarely alone. But when one of my own guards stabbed me in the back and had me handed off to the barbarians, my inability to speak even the common tongue meant I couldn't tell them I wasn't what they thought. And no amount of fighting was going to get them to bring me home. Not until they learned to communicate with me. It wasn't going to be the other way around. They'd learn eventually.