apprentice armourer, of Kuttenberg
“I'm an apprentice armourer, though I do a journeyman's work. The master just refuses to see it.”
Things Thomas had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The master broke a punch today and tried to say I did it. I told him he held the hammer, but he docked my wage anyway. Christ's wounds, a man works his hands to the bone and gets nothing but soot and theft for it. I'm going to the alehouse.
Nota scribaeHe struck the table repeatedly while saying this.
the eve of Saint Mark, at Compline
Rain again. It's coming right through the shingles onto my bed. My boots are rotting. If Peter's steward comes for the quarter's rent tomorrow, I swear by Saint Eligius I'll break his jaw. Three groschen for a bath! I won't pay it.
It's coming through my ceiling too, Thomas. The floorboards are soaked. Peter's a miser to leave us like this while he goes to Prague.
He can stay in Prague for all I care. I'm not giving him a penny.
the second day of Easter week, at None
Saw Filthy Prokop outside the forge again. Lazy vagrant just sitting there while I'm sweating over the fire. Tossed him a copper because I won at dice last night, but he'd do better picking up a hammer.
God bless your luck at the dice, Thomas. The copper bought me half a loaf.
Nota scribaeDictated at the forge. He seemed pleased with himself.
the Wednesday after Saint Gregory, at Sext
They say bread is dearer again because of the soldiers on the roads. King Wenceslas needs to sort this out. I can't keep feeding myself on what the master pays me, not when I have to buy my own files when they wear down.
It's not just bread. Herbs are harder to find with the fighting. My mother Marushka would have known where to forage, but I'm struggling.
Candlemas, at Terce
Finished a breastplate edge today that even the master couldn't fault. I'm ready to be a journeyman. The guild is blind if they can't see it. I'll drink to my own skill tonight, since nobody else will.
Pride goes before a fall, Thomas. Keep your head down and work.
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of stale ale.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Come by then, lad. I'll pour you a measure, but mind your temper. My back aches enough today without clearing up after you.
Let's see the coin first, Thomas. I'm not pouring on credit, no matter what your master did.