lumberjack at camp Podseminsko, of The woodcutters' camps
“I swing a bloody axe all day and fell the heaviest timber in Trosky. I marched in the levy, saw real fighting, and now I just want what's owed to me.”
Things Roger had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The bastard widow Juliana went off to Kuttenberg for the season, but she still takes my groschen for a shed that pisses rain on my bedroll. I wake up soaked and shivering. Absolute shit.
Nota scribaeHe dictated this while pointing a thick, calloused finger at my inkwell.
the second Tuesday of May, at Compline
Nicholas is whining about his work axe. I borrowed it around Easter because my handle split. I'll give it back when he squares up what he owes me from last year's levy. Until then, he can pay the bailiff's fee himself, the old bastard.
the Friday after St George, at None
Dropped a pine big enough to build a church roof before midday. My hands are bloody, but no man in the Trosky region swings faster than me. I took the afternoon to drink my ale and watch the others sweat.
You left all the heavy branches for me to clear, you brute.
Easter Sunday, at Prime
A year since we marched out against the Hungarians. I lit a candle for Mikesh. He was a good man left in the mud because some kurvas break and run when the riders come. God sees all, and I do not forget.
The line broke everywhere, Roger. You know I could not hold them back alone.
You ran like a coward. Do not ever speak his name.
Nota scribaeHe spoke very fast and spat on the floor after the word kurva.
Candlemas, at Sext
That thief Chenyek in his fine clothes sent his man to collect the tool fee again. Two pennies a day just to use the lord's iron so we can break our backs felling his timber. We sweat till we are blind and the bailiff takes half of it.
Aye, my purse is completely empty before the week even starts. It is a harsh master we serve.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
My blanket smells like wet dog and rot. She ought to fix the shingles.