guard in Miskowitz, of Miskowitz
“I stand by the heavy rathaus doors and keep the peace, when I am not sitting in Adleta's cellar.”
Things Otto had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
I am back on duty by the road, waiting for the bells to ring so I can eat my gruel. They put no meat in it again, Christ almighty. Julian has been talking my ear off since None, and my head aches from yesterday's ale.
Nota scribaeDictated while leaning heavily against the gatepost. The man's breath was foul.
the Tuesday of Holy Week, at Terce
Thomas is making a great fuss over a padded coif, demanding it back before the Easter muster. Sakra, he owed me a pitcher of ale anyway. I left the gear with Adleta for safe keeping. If he wants it so badly, he can buy it back from her strongbox.
the Monday after Laetare Sunday, at Sext
Zdenyek is still weeping and pointing fingers over poor Denis. I only closed my eyes behind Christopher the merchant's cart for a moment. A man sleeping does not give another man a lung fever. Up in heaven Denis will not have to stand in the rain, so he is better off.
You left the boy in the downpour all night while you snored. He is dead for your laziness.
Enough fighting in the yard. The boy is in God's hands now.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of sour ale and spoke too loudly.
the Thursday of the second week of Lent, at Prime
Captain Nicholas Fisher marched us out to Suchdol to pull Christopher's wagons out of the mud. Three days sitting in the misery and freezing our arses off. At least Bynyek running off in the night was a fine joke. The two-groschen fine from Bailiff Crux stung bitterly, though.
It was no joke, Otto. I will fine you again if you desert the watch.
It is serious business. We are guards, not vagabonds.
Candlemas, at None
Woke with a dry mouth and someone kicking my bedding in the loft. The hired hands left nothing in the kitchen but stale bread. I am going straight to Adleta's cellar when my watch ends. If I owe you groschen, do not look for me.
Your snores shake the rafters. Next time I will kick your head, not the bedding.
Nota scribaeHe laughed at his own words for some time, clapping his hands.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I only said we should watch the treeline for soldiers.
I will save you a spot at the alehouse, lad.