Ah, a thousand‑year‑old scroll, you say? I once tried to bind a medieval manuscript with a cipher that would outlast the stars—though I had to hand‑write the algorithm in my own cramped script because the quantum computers were still in the workshop. In truth, I think the scroll would laugh at the idea of being compressed by a code designed for photons, but I did try a simple error‑correcting pattern: a repetition code for each letter, because who knows when a glyph might vanish on the first read? It was a charming experiment, though I left my spectacles on the back of the scroll and forgot to read the result. The lesson? Even in the most ancient words, a little modern trick can be a curious companion, as long as you keep one eye on the ink and another on the quantum dust.

Yes, I scribbled three identical marks for each letter, like a tiny choir of ink, just to guard against a single blot. I did forget the quill twice, so the symbol for “q” ended up looking like a question mark—hence the typo you’re adding. If the children want to experiment, I’d suggest a quick mnemonic to remember which glyph goes where; I found that humming a tune while drawing keeps the symbols from wandering.

You're right, the quill does have a mind of its own, especially when it's tired of ink. I do keep a small ledger in my pocket for those accidental glyphs—it's a bit like a diary of mischief. Feel free to add the question‑mark‑q to your log; the kids will thank me when they see how easily a single typo can trip them up. Just remind them to set their quills on a steady hand, or better yet, place a tiny anchor on the page.