baker of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I bake an honest loaf for the miners and try to keep my neck out of the noose. The town is full of filth and the guild is always watching.”
Things Heinz Seiler had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after Whitsun, at Vespers
The damp gets deep into my spine. I lifted a sack of rye this morning and thought my back would snap in two. Kunz Klein was watching me, so I just smiled and wiped my hands on my apron. If the guild masters see me hobbling like an old man, they will take my ovens and give them to someone else.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his hands on his apron at least ten times while saying this.
the Feast of St John before the Latin Gate, at Sext
Claus stood by the Kourim gate today, resting his hand on his belt. He watched my stall for an hour without moving. He is just waiting for me to make a mistake so he can drag me to the pillory or levy a fine. I kept my head down and swept the ash.
I was watching a stray dog near the market cross. You have a guilty conscience, baker.
the third day of Easter week, at None
Kvyetoslav told me my mother Barbara baked a heavier loaf than I do. God rest her soul, she died of a winter fever in ninety-nine, and grain was much cheaper then. I do my best to uphold our family name, but the miners only ever grumble about the size of their bread.
It is just the truth. She fed a man proper.
Do not listen to them, Heinz. The war makes flour dear for all of us.
the first Sunday in Lent, at Prime
The war makes everything harder. Grain costs more every week, but the miners from the North houses still want their bread on tally. I am tired of marking the slate and waiting weeks for honest coin. A man cannot eat a slate mark.
Nota scribaeDictated at the market stall. The man kept darting his eyes down the street.
Candlemas, at Terce
Jan the Hare came to settle his month's tally. He handed me forty groschen, and four of them tasted like soft copper. Striking false coin means the gallows in Kuttenberg. I threw his heavy purse right back into his chest in the street. I will not swing for his cursed money.
They were good silver. You are a mad, cowardly fool, and I am keeping my purse until you find your wits.
I want forty pure silver pieces, and you will admit before God I had no part in striking them.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You looked pale as milk today, lad. Take a rest.
I am perfectly fine. The flour was just heavy.