ore hauler, of The secret mint
“I am just a man who wants a quiet night, a good drink, and to forget the mud. I haul the master's ore and mind my own business.”
Things Ralph the Drunk had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St John at the Latin Gate, at Vespers
My back is ruined from hauling slag today, and Thomas will not stop pacing like a caged dog. A man cannot even enjoy his sour beer in peace. If he sat down, maybe we could all pretend this cellar was a proper tavern in Kuttenberg.
Nota scribaeThe man spilt beer on my parchment twice while waving his hands.
the Tuesday after Easter, at Sext
Jan will not stop talking about Robert and poor Christopher. I told him to let the dead rest and pass the jack. What is done is done in the mud, and we are alive to drink today. God rest the fallen, but I am thirsty.
Christopher was my friend, Ralph. You would do well to remember him instead of drowning your wits.
I remember enough, lad. Pass the ale.
the Monday of Holy Week, at None
I heard Reginald talking big today. He forgets how he panicked near Kolin and failed to cover the flank. A good man did not come back because of him. He ought to admit it instead of acting the brave soldier now.
You are a drunk and a fool, Ralph. We were overrun by Hungarians. Nobody could hold that flank.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly. He slurred the name Reginald thrice.
St Gregory's day, at Terce
Young Hynek is keeping the crucible fires too hot, and I am sweating out what little ale I had. The runners brought us another cask, but it is weaker than horse piss. Still, coin is coin, and as long as Master Peshek sends the silver, I will haul it.
The fire must be hot to melt the ore. If you do not like it, sit further away.
Candlemas, at Prime
Tuma is flapping his jaw again, saying I broke the line at the ambush. The man is a fool who cannot tell a pike from a broom handle! I was caught in the crush like the rest of us. It was a bloody mess, not my doing.
You dropped your weapon and ran before the first Hungarian even reached us. Everyone saw it.
Christ almighty, you are blind as a mole, Tuma.
Nota scribaeHe shouted this part, waking two men on pallets nearby.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I will stop pacing when the master pays us, old man. Keep your mouth shut and drink.