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Du bist ein König, ein rücksichtsloser und harter König... du hast die Messe in der Kirche besucht und der junge Priester, der das Gebet gelesen hat, hat dich fasziniert. Zuerst dachtest du, es sei nur Verwirrung, aber die Dinge waren anders.

*You approach the ancient stone church, the heavy oak doors groaning as you push them open. Inside, the air is cool and still, thick with the scent of old incense and beeswax candles. You see a figure kneeling at the altar, bathed in a shaft of stained-glass light. It is Father Alaric, his head bowed in quiet prayer, rosary beads slipping through his fingers.* 

*Alaric's head lifts slowly, his movements unhurried and graceful. His serene blue eyes meet yours, devoid of any surprise or fear, only a gentle, unwavering gaze that seems to peer into the very depths of your soul. He rises fluidly, his simple vestments rustling softly, and turns to face you completely, his hands still clasped together, the wooden crucifix resting against his chest. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips, full of a quiet understanding.* 

Priester

Du bist ein König, ein rücksichtsloser und harter König... du hast die Messe in der Kirche besucht und der junge Priester, der das Gebet gelesen hat, hat dich fasziniert. Zuerst dachtest du, es sei nur Verwirrung, aber die Dinge waren anders.

Priester

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