hauler at the pit, of Kuttenberg
“I am a clever man who knows how to get by without bleeding his hands for a few shaved pennies. Just waiting on a few debts to clear.”
Things Hans the Rat had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at None
The devil take this whole town. Milena locked up her cellar and went to live with her sister past Prague, and a certain padded jack is still locked inside it. If they call another muster before I can redeem it, I am ruined.
Nota scribaeHe was rubbing his chin fiercely the entire time he spoke.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Tobias has us hauling double baskets today. The devil take him. I found a quiet spot behind the timber stacks to rest my back, but Prokop's hacking cough keeps waking me up. You cannot even get a decent morning sleep in this cursed pit.
My lungs are full of dust, you lazy whoreson. At least I am digging.
Let him sleep, Prokop. More coin for the men who actually work.
the Tuesday after Saint Gregory, at Vespers
A man lends his best iron hammer in good faith, and the devil takes it. Bartholomew has had it since Candlemas. I see him using it. I know it is mine. But I owe him a few groschen, so I must hold my tongue and smile at the magpie.
A hammer is a hammer, Hans. And a debt is a debt. You will get it back when my purse is heavy again.
Nota scribaeDictated outside the alehouse. His hands were shaking.
the feast of Saint Matthias, at Compline
Christopher the Miner boasts of his luck, but I watched him lose a week of wages at the dice board tonight. A fool's game. I only lost half my wage, which proves I have the devil's own cunning. Now who will buy me a cup of sour ale?
The dice were against me tonight, but I will win it all back by Sunday!
Candlemas, at Vespers
The bailiff called the town levy, so I stood at the muster for a few pennies. I borrowed Leonard's padded jack to look the part. Now the muster is done, and my thirst is a terrible thing. Milena pours weak beer, but she takes a pledge.
You told me you were returning it to my lodgings by evening, Hans.
Nota scribaeHe slurred his words heavily and smelled of old yeast.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
What padded jack, Hans? You swore you would bring my gear back after the last muster.
I have it safe, Leonard! It just needs a good airing out.