unloads carts for merchants, of Kuttenberg
“I unload heavy carts at the yards, and I am stronger than half the soft bastards in this town.”
Things Ludwig Muller had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
That clerk Wenceslas is making up the levy lists. Menhard is buying him ale to stay off it, like a coward. I would happily knock the teeth out of any Hungarian soldier who looks at me sideways. Let them come.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly. The man spilled his beer on the parchment.
the feast of Saint Florian, at None
My shoulders are bloody killing me. Hauled ten carts of Kuttenberg ore and wine today. The foreman called me slow. I pointed my finger right in his chest and told him to lift a barrel himself. He shut his mouth.
Careful, Ludwig. You need the coin for the cookshop.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
I saw the bailiff's men near Leonard's house. The blind fool has been summoned to Prague for a guild dispute. Good riddance. But I am still not speaking to him when he returns until I get my groschen for the ruined wood.
You are exhausting yourself with this grudge. Let it drop.
Not until he pays for the firewood, Matthew. Christ almighty, it is the principle of the thing.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Sext
Francis is talking about hiring a stranger to beat Menhard. What a cowardly bastard. A man settles his own scores with his own fists, not with another man's sweat.
Aye, fists are honest. Coin is for cowards.
Nota scribaeHe shouted this across the cookshop.
Candlemas, at Compline
Leonard's rotting gutter finally collapsed and the foul water soaked my whole winter woodpile! The whoreson refuses to pay me for it. I swore by the Holy Mother I will not speak a single word to him until he gives me the coin.
It was an act of God, you loudmouth. Dry it out yourself.
Nota scribaeThe dictation was interrupted by a long string of curses aimed at the wall.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Easy to boast when you have nothing to lose but a sore back, Ludwig.
You are a fool. Fists will not stop a Cuman arrow.