scribe at the mint, of Kuttenberg
“I draft charters and expect honest coin for honest work. The town is full of lords who think titles pay for ink.”
Things Erhard Dietrich had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St John Nepomuk, at Vespers
Geoffrey of Danemark stood by my desk today demanding his sealed letter. I told him he shall have it when thirty groschen touch my palm, not a penny less. A title does not pay for wax and my aching hands.
Nota scribaeDictated with much tapping of fingers on the table.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
Markvart is mooning over that baker's daughter again instead of learning a trade. I have told him flatly I will not tie my name to a house with no dowry. He must learn to work.
Pavlena is a good girl, father. Mother would have liked her.
Do not speak of your mother when you shirk your duties.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at None
The price of parchment has risen again. The merchants from Prague complain of my fees, but they do not see the cost of pumice and quills. My eyesight grows worse in the dim light of this hall.
Nota scribaeHe paused thrice to rub his eyes.
the Monday after St Matthias, at Prime
That young squire Hynek of Zhelejov was shouting across the alehouse last night. He wastes more groschen on drink in one evening than I earn in a week of cramping my fingers. He is a fool.
Mind your own cup, ink-stainer. My father will hear of your insolence!
Candlemas, at Compline
The house is too quiet in the winter. I slept on my straw pallet and woke with my back aching worse than ever. Constance has been gone three winters now, and I do not know how to steer the boy without her.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this very quietly, looking at the floor.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
It is thievery! You hold my lineage hostage over a gentleman's promise.
A gentleman's promise buys no bread, my lord. Bring the coin.