catchpole of Semin, of Semin
“I keep the peace in Semin and hold the line. It is only a matter of time until I join the garrison as a proper man-at-arms.”
Things Julian had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
The Tuesday before Whitsun, at Compline
I counted my wages again and I am still short for the gambeson. Walter spat in the yard right where I was holding the flank. If I had the magistrate's authority, I would lock him in the pillory for breaking discipline. A camp needs order.
Nota scribaeHe demonstrated his flanking movement with his stick. It knocked over my inkpot.
The eve of St George, at None
The household is starving because Joan has no discipline. She weeps over the estate clerk Gilbert shutting himself in the castle instead of sending the Easter money. Her mother Clemence would have marched a vanguard up there and demanded our due. I will not lend them a single penny of my armament funds.
My mother is dead, Julian, and Gilbert has the ledger. We cannot eat discipline.
The third day of Easter week, at Vespers
Prokop is still moping over that tin ring his brother Jan left behind. Jan went for a soldier and died in a ditch near Kuttenberg three winters ago. That is the price of duty. A man must look forward to his sword, not backward at cheap tin.
He was my brother. You know nothing of soldiers or duty.
Nota scribaeDictated loudly while polishing a small brass badge with his sleeve.
The Monday after St Gregory, at Sext
Today I established a perimeter around the tavern to secure a stray pig. The villagers know nothing of tactics. I held the line with my staff until the beast retreated. The guardsmen will surely hear of my operational success.
Aye, we heard about you chasing a pig, Julian. Very heroic.
Candlemas, at Prime
I heard the Hungarians might move their camp. If the war leaves this region before I can buy my sword, I will be trapped in Semin as a glorified rat-catcher forever. I must secure the coin for my gear before the front lines shift.
If the soldiers leave, maybe we can eat in peace without you shouting about perimeters.
Nota scribaeHe spoke in a whisper, clutching his wooden pole tightly.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You are a peasant with a stick, Julian. The only flank you hold is the side of your bed.
Speak to your superiors with respect, mud-scratcher.