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...so when the temporary truce was signed, Henricus got a private room next to a larger room for his men, he was Papa Henricus he needed his privacy form his less holy men...

...one thing had started to gnaw on the inner universe of the former kings guts, a feeling of emptiness, loss of the contact with his daughters guiding spirit, without it he felt lost as a leader of his religious cult of zealous crusaders...

His was also not satisfied with the standard of his room, he knew this palace, he once had it as the centre of his former kingdom, was he perhaps a bit hasty when he abdicated after the accidental killing of his own flesh, his beautiful daughter...

Henricus locked the door, he could feel tears, massing up under his eyelids, he didn´t want to his men to see their supreme Papa and holy authority cry as a pink newborn baby...

...the he saw a container a carafe on the label it was scribbled: "the finest Franconian Wine from the smallest state in the western kingdoms"....

Henricus who had stayed sober for ages now, felt, yes, perhaps a small glass and then a small cry and then he could leave all this crying and carry on his crusade against the faithless infidels...

He pored himself a glass of the wine, the red wine gracing his lips was truly a blessing from god... This was a really good whine too...

the king lets the mouthful roll around in his moth, then swallowed it and said:

- A fine wine truly from the franconian areas, a hint of dry countryside dirt and early summer a hit of being squashed between the toes of two peasant ladies in their late 30´s one with a rare fungus infection (Botrytis cinerea) on her left pinky...

57 min. later the King was quite much jollier, singing his favourite tune by the famous bard David Bowman: The saviour AI!

...then he saw the shimmer of a hint of an Ectoplasmic mist!!!

The mist started forming in to a figure... it was true, it was Her, His daughter, his beautiful daughter!!!

he stuttered: it-it, it, is, is, yo, you, you!

The spirit replied:

_ yes most beloved father, it is I you daughter, now listen to me, it is time now, you are the rightful king of this kingdom, you were lured in to resigning, by your enemies, you must take back what is rightfully yours and impose your rule of religious righteousness...

- Yes Darling I will, but what about Queen Esmeralda she is back and looking younger and stronger than I ever did when we were married, I was thinking of marrying her again and give that Kraut Prince Albert a boot in his royal arschloch and send him back flying like a bolt towards his astro-bavarian homelands...

- Father, Listen to me now, This Esmeralda is a fake, she is not the lass you once mounted from time to time... don´t trust her... She and Albert are making plans, but you dear daddy, will outsmart them, since you have faith and destiny in your hands! you are the chosen one...

Description
...so when the temporary truce was signed, Henricus got a private room next to a larger room for his men, he was Papa Henricus he needed his privacy form his less holy men...

...one thing had started to gnaw on the inner universe of the former kings guts, a feeling of emptiness, loss of the contact with his daughters guiding spirit, without it he felt lost as a leader of his religious cult of zealous crusaders...

His was also not satisfied with the standard of his room, he knew this palace, he once had it as the centre of his former kingdom, was he perhaps a bit hasty when he abdicated after the accidental killing of his own flesh, his beautiful daughter...

Henricus locked the door, he could feel tears, massing up under his eyelids, he didn´t want to his men to see their supreme Papa and holy authority cry as a pink newborn baby...

...the he saw a container a carafe on the label it was scribbled: "the finest Franconian Wine from the smallest state in the western kingdoms"....

Henricus who had stayed sober for ages now, felt, yes, perhaps a small glass and then a small cry and then he could leave all this crying and carry on his crusade against the faithless infidels...

He pored himself a glass of the wine, the red wine gracing his lips was truly a blessing from god... This was a really good whine too...

the king lets the mouthful roll around in his moth, then swallowed it and said:

- A fine wine truly from the franconian areas, a hint of dry countryside dirt and early summer a hit of being squashed between the toes of two peasant ladies in their late 30´s one with a rare fungus infection (Botrytis cinerea) on her left pinky...

57 min. later the King was quite much jollier, singing his favourite tune by the famous bard David Bowman: The saviour AI!

...then he saw the shimmer of a hint of an Ectoplasmic mist!!!

The mist started forming in to a figure... it was true, it was Her, His daughter, his beautiful daughter!!!

he stuttered: it-it, it, is, is, yo, you, you!

The spirit replied:

_ yes most beloved father, it is I you daughter, now listen to me, it is time now, you are the rightful king of this kingdom, you were lured in to resigning, by your enemies, you must take back what is rightfully yours and impose your rule of religious righteousness...

- Yes Darling I will, but what about Queen Esmeralda she is back and looking younger and stronger than I ever did when we were married, I was thinking of marrying her again and give that Kraut Prince Albert a boot in his royal arschloch and send him back flying like a bolt towards his astro-bavarian homelands...

- Father, Listen to me now, This Esmeralda is a fake, she is not the lass you once mounted from time to time... don´t trust her... She and Albert are making plans, but you dear daddy, will outsmart them, since you have faith and destiny in your hands! you are the chosen one...