It had occurred to Radeorin in that moment that he would not always understand the words he wrote; individually, yes, perhaps by definition as he had grown to understand them, but the political intent was not for his mushy brain to understand. After all, it was not within his scope of duties that he would be able to grasp the intentions of his employer; he was merely to write the words she spoke.
Perhaps Gloria was right then, he considered, that he would be the best scribe in Myrkentown, for the livelihood of a secret depended on the mouth that would set it free. Since he had none of that to offer, he was a secured, locked safe for the Marshall's business. And this engendered pride in the boy, as well as purpose -- that he was convinced was for Jernoans, and not his people, but fine enough, nonetheless. Therefore, he wrote carefully.
Dashes were drawn with the quick twist of the quill, and he was careful with his ink; he would not want the recipients to think that his employer was not calculating enough to avoid creating ink splotches on parchment. His handwriting was small, yet clear, with his grasp on letters and their wholesome words a gift he could better sell than eight pence, something he would understand when he was much older. He wrote her name properly, and he misspelled the second name with divine flourish: "Alecksy." Strange, it was, that the boy had not studied her mouth when he wrote it. Arguably, his eyes had been so keen when he did look up to watch her mouth -- his eyes carefully wide and fluttering in lashes -- and yet, his misspellings were subject. Perhaps after all, he read lips, not heard words, and such phonetic spellings with the mishaps of his disability.
Still, he questioned nothing. When the Marshall explained the purpose of the letters -- an explanation that, he realized now, he did not exactly need and that made the Marshall kind in his mind for gracing him with such extra effort -- he looked down at the papers and continued to write. He looked up occasionally, writing while watching her mouth, and other times, he did not. Seconds passed and words were written.
In the end, Radeorin of No Last Name ought to be considerable in his carefulness.