soldier at Trosky, of Trosky
“I survived the retreat when the others were pissing themselves, kurva. Now I walk a wall for pennies.”
Things Frantishek had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of Whitsun, at None
Maurice wants his tin pitcher back. Kurva, I told him he can have it when he pays the three groschen for the boots he ruined at the river crossing. Until then I drink my ale from it.
Nota scribaeDictated in the courtyard. He spat twice onto the cobblestones while speaking.
the Thursday after St George, at Vespers
That whoreson Drslav docked our Easter wages for the gear we lost at Kolin. Kurva, how am I to buy food now? Julian is waiting to bleed us dry with his loans.
Easter Monday, at Prime
The wind on the eastern battlements is tearing at my chest again. Kurva, they put me up here to die of an ague while the officers sleep by the fire.
Wrap your gambeson tighter, lad. It's the same wind for all of us.
Nota scribaeHe rubbed his chest and coughed heavily throughout the dictation.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Sext
Tobias stares at me across the yard like I am the devil. Old Peshek was shivering in the ditch and dying anyway. Kurva, I made the call to march, or the outriders would have killed us all! I kept us alive!
Candlemas, at Vespers
We lit candles for the dead today. Poor Bynyek. He went under the wagon wheel at the ford and there was nothing to do. The outriders were right behind us. Kurva, what a miserable winter.
He slipped in the mud. God rest him, there was no saving him.
Nota scribaeThe man smelled strongly of cheap ale and spoke loudly.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Give it back, you thieving bastard. I slipped in the mud, it was an accident.
A wet foot for three days, kurva! Pay the cobbler or stay thirsty.