guard at the Klasterska gate, of Kuttenberg
“I stand watch, take tolls, and try to ignore the fools I share a barracks with. I survive.”
Things Alan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St Urban, at Vespers
Roger the clerk says my boots are too worn and docked my wages again. Let him stand at the gate in the mud for twelve hours and see how his fine leather holds up. A man can't even afford a decent ale since Svatava died, and now this.
Nota scribaeDictated in the guardhouse. The man spat on my boots as he said the clerk's name.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Some men are too frightened of the gallows to make use of what the Lord provides. If a man finds a dented cup on the march, he should share the worth of it with his brothers, not bury it in his mattress like a coward.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Terce
More refugees from the burnt villages to the north today. They bring nothing but lice and weeping, and they have no coin for the toll. I told them to turn back. I'm not paying Roger's fines for letting vagrants through the gate.
It's Sigismund's Cumans doing the burning. Christ almighty, the roads are a mess.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this flatly, showing no pity for the wretches.
the feast of St Matthias, at Sext
Denis won't look me in the eye at the watch change again. He's still weeping over Michael in the mud, four winters gone. I gave the order to fall back because we were outflanked. I won't apologize for keeping my own head on my shoulders.
Candlemas, at Compline
The winter fever took Svatava, and with her went the only decent slate in Kuttenberg. Now her heir wants coin up front. It's so bloody cold my fingers stick to my halberd, and now I can't even get a warm beer to thaw them.
God rest her soul. And God curse her nephew for a tight-fisted mule.
We're all drinking water like monks now.
Nota scribaeDictated rubbing his hands together. He seemed more aggrieved by the beer than the woman's passing.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
The whoreson charged me for a rusty scabbard yesterday. We should wait for him in an alley.
I miss Svatava. Her nephew won't pour a drop without coin on the barrel.