guard at Semin keep, of Semin
“I mostly stand on the wall and freeze watching the road. It beats starving in the woods.”
Things Andrew had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Saint Urban, at Vespers
I tripped over the butt of my halberd again and the sergeant shouted at me until he was red in the face. I was only looking down because I thought I saw a bit of carved oak in the mud. It was just a root. I will never find my father's horse.
Nota scribaeDictated while rubbing dirt from his breeches. He checked his pouches three times while speaking.
the third day of May, at Sext
Margery is going mad from the heat of the kitchen. She jumps every time a cart rumbles on the road and keeps muttering about a journey to Sedletz. I hope she doesn't leave. The other cooks would let me starve. I just wish she wouldn't threaten me with her spoon when I search the floor.
Mind your own business and stay out of my kitchen when you should be on patrol. Saint Barbara preserve me from fools.
the Tuesday after Easter, at None
I know one of the hired hands took it. It is a cruel prank. It is just a bit of oak whittled into a horse, worth not a single penny, but my father made it. It is all I have. Whoever stole it from the washing trough had best give it back.
I will trade my ale ration for two days to whoever returns it.
Nota scribaeThe guard spoke very quickly and kept patting his empty pockets.
the first week of Lent, at Prime
My father Benesh died a year ago today of the bloody flux. He had no coin to leave me, only the little wooden horse I keep in my pouch. I said a prayer for him this morning. The wind on the palisade cuts right through my tabard.
God rest his soul. Come to the kitchen later, I saved the thickest oats from the bottom of the pot for you.
Candlemas, at Compline
It is bitterly cold on the night watch. I said a prayer for old Lawrence tonight. It has been two winters since the fever took him in his bed. He was the only one who ever showed me how to hold a spear properly without screaming at me. I miss his patience.
Aye, Lawrence was a good man. The barracks haven't been the same since that fever.
Nota scribaeHe was shivering so fiercely I could barely make out the words.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If you keep looking at the ground instead of the road, the Hungarians will march right over us, lad.
Cheer up, lad. I'll help you look under the pallets again tomorrow.