merchant at the radnicni markets, of Kuttenberg
“I sell the firmest, sweetest roots in Kuttenberg, despite my landlord letting my cellar rot.”
Things Matilda Gold had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Prime
The roads are thick with soldiers and the bread costs more than silver. If the bailiff takes my stall over this rent business, I will have nothing but rotting melons in the dirt.
Nota scribaeThe woman spoke loudly enough to wake the dead, nearly deafening me.
the vigil of St Philip and St James, at Sext
The landlord's agent came around again with his tally slate asking for full coin. I shouted him right out of the yard. Let Casper freeze in Prague for all I care, I am not paying for a puddle.
Good for you, sister. Do not let them take your hard-earned groschen.
Nota scribaeShe wiped her hands on her apron no less than twenty times while dictating this.
the feast of St George, at None
Lady Anna threw a terrible fit today over flour dust from Milada's bakery. Christ almighty, some people complain about a dirty cloak while honest merchants are losing whole crates of watermelons to the damp.
It is a fine woollen cloak, peasant. You would not understand the value of proper garments.
The dust was quite dreadful, to be fair.
the third day of Easter week, at Vespers
A grand market today, but the walk back down the hill broke my back. At least John bought two watermelons with good silver. He is a sour bastard, but his coin spends the same.
The melons were sound. Better than the sour ale they serve around here.
Keep your silver, you miserable whoreson. Poor Vitek is dead in a ditch and you buy melons.
Nota scribaeDictated at the cellar steps.
the second Wednesday of Lent, at Terce
Since Lent began, the roof over my side of the building is missing half its shingles. The cellar is a miserable puddle and half my prized turnips are turning soft. I refuse to pay for a rich man's slate.
It is a complete disgrace, Matilda. I had to move all my fine cloth into the back room.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
We must endure, Matilda. God watches over honest workers in hard times.
Please be careful, Auntie. You cannot fight the bailiff.