soldier at the upper armoury, of Trosky
“I guard the quartermaster's peace and ensure my own ledger stays balanced. A man must keep what is his.”
Things Julian had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the eve of St George, at Vespers
The muster is tomorrow and that bastard Leonard has pawned the iron helmet I bought for him in town. If Drslav inspects him and finds the iron missing, the fine will fall on my head and ruin me. I have checked my coin pouch thrice today and there is not enough to buy another.
Nota scribaeThe man spoke without raising his voice, but tapped his belt pouch fiercely the entire time.
the second day of Easter week, at Sext
I watched Maurice lend his good tin pitcher to Frantishek today. A fool's bargain. That selfish youth will keep it just to squeeze Maurice over those ruined boots from last week. Courtyard Four is full of bad investments and men who cannot hold onto their property.
He said he was thirsty, Julian. Not all of us tally every cup of water.
I will give it back when Maurice pays for my boots.
the Thursday after Ash Wednesday, at None
Jarda wants the brass oil lamp back that he lent me yesterday to look for a dropped ring in the stables. I told him no. He owes me ten groschen for my broken whetstone from last autumn. A debt is a debt, and I am keeping collateral until I see silver.
It is my lamp! How am I to see in the dark corners, you thief?
Pay for the whetstone and there will be light.
Nota scribaeHe refused to speak further until he had brushed a crumb from his tunic.
the feast of St Matthias, at Prime
Drslav has tallied the ledger for what we lost at Kolin. Tents, shields, scabbards—all sunk in the freezing mud, and we must pay for the replacements. It is strict, but an army needs a proper accounting. Tobias wastes his time pitying David's camp fever, but pity will not buy back the king's iron.
David is sweating out his life in the dark, Julian. Show a little mercy.
the week of Candlemas, at Compline
Prokop is shouting at Andrew again about dropping the wagon rope in the freezing mud at Kolin. He only yells to drown out the fact that he owes dead Bynyek fifty groschen. We lost Bynyek to the wagon wheel and Peshek to the fever on the road back. Winter makes fools of men who do not save their summer pay.
If Andrew had held the rope, Bynyek would be alive to collect his coin! It is not my fault.
The mud was freezing and my hands slipped. Christ almighty, no one could have saved him.
Nota scribaeThe dictation took longer than expected because the soldiers kept shouting over one another.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
I had to eat, Julian. You cannot wear an iron pot when your belly is empty.
You will eat dirt when the quartermaster docks our Easter wages for missing gear.