guard at the Raborsch checkpoint, of Around Raborsch
“I am a soldier of the crown, keeping the king's peace on the roads of Kuttenberg. It takes a firm hand to deal with carters and miners, and I give them one.”
Things Alan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday after the invention of the Holy Cross, at Vespers
The quartermasters are still late with our pay. A man of the garrison cannot live on air and the few pennies these miners toss into the dirt. I saw John and Jezhek whispering by the gate today. If they know of a way to secure our rightful due, they ought to tell me, but I will not beg them for it.
Nota scribaeHe spoke this very quickly, looking over his shoulder toward the other guards.
the second day of Rogation days, at None
Richard has been weeping over his sister Agnes again. I told him straight, he must act like a man and stop embarrassing the uniform. We are guards, not nursemaids. If I hear her name one more time before Compline, I will take his spear and throw it into the river.
the first Wednesday after Easter, at Sext
I hear Martin is confined to his house with a broken toe. An act of God, surely, for his clumsiness and insolence. But it changes nothing. I still expect him to stand before the whole alehouse and beg forgiveness for ruining my tunic. I will not cross that threshold until he does.
Holy Virgin, Alan, it was weeks ago. Buy your own ale and stop pouting.
I broke it dropping a barrel, you stiff-necked fool. The ale was an improvement on your smell.
You confess you did it! Now apologize properly.
Nota scribaeThe speaker inspected a faint stain on his hem while dictating.
the eve of St Joseph, at Prime
A teamster questioned the toll this morning, trying to push his cart through without paying his due. I stood my ground, crossed my arms, and told him the king's law is the king's law. He paid. John commended me for it, though he didn't say so aloud. It takes a firm hand to keep order here.
I said you should let the cart pass if it was only firewood, lad. But you collect the tolls as you see fit.
the Thursday after Ash Wednesday, at Terce
I will not be returning to the tavern until a certain loud-mouthed teamster learns some respect. I am a soldier of the crown, and when an oaf spills his ale down my uniform and laughs, he owes me satisfaction. I demand a public apology in front of everyone.
It is very cold in the guardhouse at night without the hearth fire, Alan.
It is a matter of honour. You wouldn't understand.
Nota scribaeHe was quite agitated, keeping his arms crossed tightly against his chest.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you stopped standing like you swallowed a spear shaft and just asked, maybe we would tell you.
A soldier shouldn't have to skulk about for his coin, Jezhek.