maidservant at an inn, of Kuttenberg
“I keep my head down, scrub ale stains, and save my pennies to survive this town.”
Things Felice had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Compline
Mandelina was drunk on cheap ale again and took a terrible fall down the rotting thatch stairs. I shake my head at the lot of them. If Kunz does not fix the roof soon, the landlord will have us out on the street to make a storeroom.
Nota scribaeShe twisted her apron the entire time she spoke.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
Denise badgered me again at the market to carry a message out of town for her. Is the girl thick in the head? I am stuck in Kuttenberg just like she is. I only wish I could find a traveller heading toward my own family.
the Friday before Palm Sunday, at None
The war makes the bread dearer every week, and the soldiers by the stalls make Madlen too terrified to walk the streets. If we pooled our pennies, we might hire a proper courier to take word to our families. But no one listens.
I will not go near them, Felice. They stare at us like wolves.
Nota scribaeDictated in the street. She seemed fearful of the soldiers herself.
the feast of St Gregory, at Terce
I asked Lene Muller once more to carry a message for me when she travels, and she flatly refused again. My family has no idea if I am alive or dead in this silver city. I cannot read, and scribes want more groschen than I have.
I have my own business to mind on the road. Find someone else.
Ash Wednesday, at Sext
I am sick to death of Ursel and Clemence screaming at each other. Ursel lent her a bone sewing needle, and Clemence kept it over a spilled bowl of boiled beans. I just want them to shut up so I can get some sleep before my shift.
She is a thief! That needle is my livelihood.
She owes me for the beans. I will keep it until I am paid.
Nota scribaeShe muttered curses about fools under her breath the whole time.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
That tight-fisted bastard Kunz will never mend the roof.
My poor mother Margaret would weep to see me bruised so.