miner at the North houses, of Kuttenberg
“Sakra, I hew rock in the dark for twelve hours a day and all I get is robbed by the men I work with.”
Things Roger had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at Vespers
Sakra, another shift in that black pit. The timber creaks like a dying beast and I expect the roof to come down on me every day. And Maresh is still looking at me sideways since he stole my pay in February. A man cannot breathe for dust and thieves.
Nota scribaeThe man jabbed his finger at me the entire time he spoke.
the Thursday after Easter, at None
Robert asked for his iron back again. Sakra, how am I to work when Kunz still has my best spade? Robert is pulling double shifts for Geoffrey, aye, but I must eat too. I will give it back when I am made whole. I never forget a debt.
the second week of Lent, at Compline
Sakra, I nearly dropped my ale. Thomas called Reginald the Hog's late brother a blind gelding right in the tavern. I slipped out before the tables started flying. If the big man catches him, they will be burying Thomas by Sunday.
I said what I said. The man owed me five groschen.
Nota scribaeDictated at the alehouse in a hasty whisper.
the day after Saint Blase, at Prime
Kunz claims I gave him my spade to keep, just for taking my shift yesterday! Sakra, it cost me a month's wages at the smith! It was a simple favour, not a sale. If Maresh would not have us both beaten, I would take it back myself. Would that some stranger fetched it for me.
A missed shift is a missed shift, Roger. You gave it to me, so I took it.
Candlemas, at Vespers
Sakra, I am too generous. I let Kunz borrow my new spade for the week, and I took Robert's spare iron to make do. Katchka says I should charge them rental groschen, but I am an honest man. I never forget a favour.
Never lend out your tools, lad. You will only weep for them.
Nota scribaeHe smelled strongly of thin ale.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My stomach is rotting from Katchka's watery cabbage stew, lad. The roof coming down is the least of our worries.