guard at the gates, of Troskowitz
“I keep my head down and do my shifts. A quiet life is a long life, I say.”
Things Jan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
Eve of Ascension, at Prime
Mikesh says the treasury is bare and our pay is late again. I keep my hands resting on my belt to be sure of what little gear I have left. I just want to serve my time and sleep.
Nota scribaeHe mumbled this so quietly I had to ask him to say it twice.
The second day of May, at Vespers
Chopping firewood. Simon will not stop whining about the crumbling shed he rents and how Adleta took his coin and left him under a leaky thatch. The fool brings his troubles on himself. I told him to patch it or drown.
You would whine too if you woke up in a puddle of muddy water every morning, Jan.
The Tuesday after Easter, at None
Ernest still has the good carving dagger I lent him before Lent. He says he traded it for cheese. A barefaced lie. I want it back. I am halfway to paying a stranger a few groschen just to fetch it from him.
The feast of St Gregory, at Sext
Standing out in the bitter wind. Inside, Havel and David are shouting again about who broke the line in the forest when Tuma was killed last St Martin's day. I stayed out of it. Tuma is in the ground and we are above it.
They are all loud fools. At least poor Tuma does not have to eat this thin pottage anymore.
Nota scribaeHe refused to look me in the eye while dictating this.
Candlemas, at Terce
I have a certain roll of fine linen I found in the mud after the ambush last year. A fair wage for nearly dying. I want to sell it quietly to a merchant, but the roads are too full of soldiers and I cannot trust a certain lad to keep his mouth shut.
Jan, you promised we would not speak of this! If the quartermaster finds out we will both be at the pillory before the week is out!
Nota scribaeHe looked around the yard four times before he made me scratch this down.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
That fat whoreson sits by his warm fire while we freeze at the gates. Let him stand a shift.