smelter at the central hub, of Grunta
“I work the silver hearths, kurva, trying to earn an honest groschen. Next man who asks to borrow a nail is getting a boot in the arse.”
Things Frantishek had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Robert is coughing up black phlegm, kurva. It is the exact same lung sickness that took his brother Bynyek last autumn. I told him to sit by the wall, but Tobias will send him home with no groschen if he drops his rake. Up in heaven there is no ore dust.
the second day of Easter week, at Compline
Ernest the Hound says he cannot give back my tool until Heinz gives back his, kurva. And Heinz says he needs my tapping bar for his own wages. I spent a month's silver on those irons. If Tobias inspects my cart and catches me without them, I starve.
I will bring it back to the shed by Sunday, Frantishek, I swear it on the Holy Cross.
Make him give mine back first, kurva! I am not losing a day's coin for him.
Nota scribaeHe wiped soot from his eyes so often I offered him a rag, which he refused.
St Joseph's day, at Sext
Denis is weeping over his Sarah in Kolin again. He asked Geoffrey the Fly to walk there with a message, kurva. Kolin is far too distant for a smelter to walk on a Sunday, and Geoffrey is too busy arguing over stolen lamps anyway. I am staying out of it.
A man misses his wife. Have some pity for a heavy heart, Frantishek.
I did not steal the lamp, Denis, it was resting in the dirt near the secondary hearths!
the first Sunday of Lent, at None
The smoke from the molten silver is blinding me, kurva. My eyes sting from Prime to Compline. The smiths are too busy hammering arrowheads for the soldiers to make us proper long rakes, so we must stand right over the heat to break the slag.
Arrows keep the Hungarian troops off your back, smelter. Be grateful the smiths know what matters.
Nota scribaeDictated staring at the ground. His hands were stained entirely black.
the day after Candlemas, at Vespers
A batch of wet ore caused a steam blast at the secondary hearths, kurva. Tools were buried in the panic. Like a decent Christian workmate I lent my heavy tapping bar to young Heinz, and another perfectly good tool to Ernest. Now my hands are empty and I am a fool.
It was a kind thing you did, Frantishek. The Lord sees your charity in the smoke.
The Lord does not pay my daily wages to Tobias, Nicholas.
Nota scribaeThe dictating was interrupted twice by violent coughing fits from the other men in the shed.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I just need a bit of warm ale to clear my throat, Frantishek. The fever will pass by Sunday.
I can cover your shift tomorrow, Robert. Keep your pay.
You will starve in the winter if you keep giving your shifts away, Nicholas, kurva.