smelter at the ironworks, of Grunta
“I break slag until my hands bleed and try not to catch the black cough. I'm just holding onto what's mine, and what I need to survive.”
Things Ernest the Hound had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the second day of May, at Compline
Old Robert coughed up black phlegm this morning. I heard the exact same rattle from Bynyek's chest before we put him in the dirt. I told Nicholas the Maw to cover the shift and get the old man out before the rot spreads to the rest of us. I ain't dying in this arse-end of a shed.
Nota scribaeThe speaker kept crossing his soot-stained arms and looking toward the door.
the feast of St Mark, at Vespers
Geoffrey the Fly and Denis are still going at it over that iron lamp. If those two bastards don't beat each other senseless soon, I swear I'll do it myself just so I can get a night's sleep. And the ale-wife is watering the weak beer again. Christ Almighty, a man can't even get properly drunk.
It's my lamp, and Denis is a fool to think otherwise. You mind your own business, Hound.
Sarah needs that lamp more than he does. You're all heartless, the lot of you.
the Thursday after Easter, at None
Tobias was sniffing around the ore carts before the sun was even up. Trying to dock our wages for sleeping or broken tools, the miserable whoreson. I know exactly how to look busy when he walks past the central hub. Let him try and catch me.
You'd better look busy, or he'll have your hide.
Nota scribaeDictated in a low whisper, looking over his shoulder.
the eve of St Joseph, at Terce
Frantishek is still whining about his tool. I told him plainly: until Heinz gives me back my best tapping bar, he can whistle for his own. It's Heinz's fault I had to borrow it. A replacement costs a month's wages, and I'm not ruining myself for his thievery.
Give me my tool back, Ernest! I didn't lend it to Heinz, I lent it to you!
Go ask Heinz for mine, and then we'll trade. Hard necessity of the hearths, lad.
Candlemas, at Sext
Lent my best tapping bar to Heinz to help him cover a shift. The bastard just kept it. Now I'm empty-handed and if Tobias catches me without a proper tool, he'll dock me a month's silver. Bloody hell. I had to take Frantishek's best one just to keep my head above water.
I'll get it back to you soon, Hound. Stop bleating about it.
You stole my tool to cover your own arse? God's nails, Ernest!
Nota scribaeThe man was furious and smelled strongly of soot and sweat.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Someone has to do it, Ernest. He's shaking with fever. Have you no pity?
Pity doesn't buy bread or keep the dust out of my throat.