militiaman at the gates, of Trosky
“I stand watch and keep the miners from killing each other in the dirt. It is thirsty work, my boots have holes, and I only need a few pennies to set things right.”
Things Jan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
The captain says there will be an inspection before the feast. Christ almighty. If any man has just a few pennies to spare, I will pay him back double by the harvest. John, I know you have coin hidden away. I am begging you.
Nota scribaeHe wrung his hands the entire time he spoke, looking as though he might weep.
the eve of St George, at Compline
Thomas is looking for a fight again, and I had to drag three drunken miners out of the mud yesterday. I can drink any man in this garrison under the table, but Avice has a tongue like a whip. I dare not go near her cellar to quench my thirst.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
It is bloody freezing at the gates. Jan the elder took the best spot by the fire again, complaining of the chill. We younger lads get nothing but gristle in the stew pot and the hardest stones to stand on.
When you have stood on these walls for twenty years your bones will ache too. Show some respect.
A soldier does not whine about the cold. Discipline is what keeps the Cumans from slitting our throats in our sleep.
Nota scribaeDictated while chewing on a hard crust of stale bread.
the Wednesday of the second week of Lent, at None
Nicholas is a good Christian man for lending me his iron kettle hat for my duties. It is a fine piece of work. A man gets terrible thirsty standing in the wind, though. Just a few pennies on a slate never hurt anyone.
Take good care of it. A solid helm is the only thing between you and a cracked skull.
Candlemas, at Sext
Standing watch with Walter is enough to drive a man mad. If I hear about his brother Andreas making boots in Prague one more time, I will throw myself off the battlements. Poor Vashek never talked this much, God rest his soul.
My brother makes boots for the burghers, fine leather work. You could learn a thing or two from him instead of complaining.
Vashek was a fool who broke the line. Do not praise a dead man for his mistakes.
Nota scribaeThe subject spoke very fast and kept looking nervously over his shoulder.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I have nothing for you. Stop looking at my hands.
You had better have that kettle hat polished for the muster, lad. I want it back shining.