master of the butchers' guild, of Kuttenberg
“I keep the butchers of Kuttenberg honest and the ledgers balanced. A guildmaster's work is in the mind.”
Things Henslin Kohl had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of the Ascension, at Vespers
There is hunger in the market, and the soldiers take what they please, but the guild's rules remain absolute. If a butcher lowers his standards to sell scraps and bone, he is no better than a common thief. I carry my father's knife to remind them.
Nota scribaeHe touched the bone handle of his knife the entire time he spoke.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
Another storm in the night, and another puddle on my floor. Otto sits safe in Prague while his property rots around me. I swear by all the saints I will not pay him a single groschen of rent until he sends carpenters to mend these tiles.
Do not fret, father. We can move the bed to the dry corner again.
the Tuesday after Laetare Sunday, at Sext
Emmeram still refuses to pay his quarter-dues for Lent. The man has the brass to claim he gave the silver to my Hans weeks ago. My son is a good lad and would never lose guild coin. Emmeram is simply a stubborn, disrespectful whoreson.
I swore by Saint Lawrence I gave the groschen to your boy! If you are blind to his tavern habits, that is your folly, not mine.
I never saw a single penny of it, father. He lies to save his silver.
Nota scribaeDictated near the guild hall. The master cleared his throat loudly before and after speaking.
the feast of Saint Gregory, at Terce
The stench from Martin's vats is enough to wake the dead. I wish that loudmouth would pack up his hides and leave Kuttenberg to rot somewhere else. The only time I ever agreed with Emmeram was when he cursed Martin over that spilled cart of offal.
My vats smell of honest work, Kohl! You just walk around with clean hands judging the rest of us.
For once you speak sense, guildmaster. The man is a blight on the street.
the day after Candlemas, at None
I walked the stalls this morning to check the weights. The apprentices grow sloppy when they think no one is watching. It takes a deliberate mind to keep the trade honest. I only wish Hans would walk with me more often, instead of vanishing by midday.
It is the same in the woods, Master Kohl. The young lack the patience for a long watch.
Nota scribaeHe sighed heavily when mentioning his son.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Master Kohl, there are whispers of worse than scraps being sold. I dare not say more.
Speak plainly, Heinz, or hold your tongue. I have no time for a porter's riddles.