archer in Sigismund's camp, of Sigismund's camp
“I watch the road so the rest of these bastards can sleep. I keep my head down and my arrows dry.”
Things Adam had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
If a man lends a knife to a comrade, he expects it back. James took my hunting blade on Saint George's day for a piece of mutton and now he plays the fool. If I wasn't busy on the wall, I'd have it out of him. He wants Benesh's wooden rosary first. Bloody whoreson.
Nota scribaeDictated in a rushed whisper. The man kept looking over his shoulder toward the tents.
the Feast of St Philip and St James, at Prime
Someone said the Kuttenberg town watch is coming up to the camp to inspect the lines. I am staying on the outer perimeter. It is damp out here and ruins my bowstring, but there are too many bastards with long memories in that town.
They won't come this far out, lad. They fear the mud more than we do.
the Tuesday after Easter, at None
Wenceslas and Richard are shouting again over that pawned iron cap. My head hurts from the noise of it. If Tobias the clerk ever sent the wages down from his fine stone house, they could pay Doubravka and let us all sleep.
It is my cap, Adam. I will shout until my throat bleeds.
Nota scribaeThe scribe notes that the camp is indeed very loud today.
the second Sunday in Lent, at Terce
Benesh was drinking for Jarda again last night. It's been a hard winter since Saint Martin's day. I am just glad I was not on that foraging party near Sedletz. Poor bastard. God rest his soul, but better him in the ditch than me.
You shouldn't speak of him like that. He was worth ten of you.
the morrow of Candlemas, at Sext
My hand is swollen to the size of a turnip. I cracked a townsman's head with a tankard in Kuttenberg yesterday over a dice game. The fat whoreson had it coming, but now the bailiff has my name. I will not be going back into that town, let them rot.
And I left my best bone dice on the table. Sakra.
Nota scribaeThe man's right hand was heavily bruised across the knuckles.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You'll get it when Benesh hands over the beads, you twitchy bastard. Not my fault you're too scared to ask him.
I don't have his bloody rosary, Adam. Stop letting him piss on you.