soldier at Malesov castle, of Malesov
“I am a soldier of the garrison at Malesov, doing my duty and expecting a basic level of respect. Discipline is sorely lacking in these parts.”
Things Denis had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Saint John of Nepomuk, at Vespers
Jezhek is sweating like a pig on a spit and checking his saddlebags every hour. I assume the man has caught the camp fever, but he will not go to the infirmary. A soldier should maintain his bearing, fever or no.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
I am remaining in the castle courtyard today. I refuse to set foot in the village square unless I am actively on watch. The commoners there have no respect for the king's uniform, and I will not endure their insolence.
You cannot hide in the castle forever over a spilled beer.
It is a matter of honour, John. The bastard ruined my tunic.
Nota scribaeHe brushed dust from his surcoat for the entirety of the dictation.
the Monday after Lady Day, at Compline
If Walter and Jezhek do not cease shouting about Otto, I shall go mad. Otto is dead. He snored terribly in the barracks, but now he is at peace. If they have a dispute, they should settle it with fists in the courtyard and let the matter go.
He was left to die by a cowardly order! You would understand if you cared for anything besides your shiny mail.
Saint Gregory's Day, at None
A disaster in the village tavern. I bumped into a tradesman and spilled his drink. Instead of showing respect, the bastard became angry and insulted me. Voices were raised, and I left. He owes me an apology for disrespecting the garrison.
Nota scribaeThe scribe notes that the soldier smelled faintly of ale and indignation.
the first Friday of Lent, at Sext
The wind off the perimeter walk is biting today. I spent the morning ensuring my mail is free of rust. If only the cooks took such care. We are eating miserable salted oats and hard sheep's cheese again. A poor diet for a fighting man.
Eat your oats and be glad we have a roof, Denis.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Mind your own business, Denis. My saddlebags are fine.