A late Arpadian retracked

His Grace Rudolf, the 15th Duke of Croy, has supposed a distinction between himself and his equerry is one of treatment.  His equerry  reckons sons are like horses: they require management.  His Grace gets his effects differently.  He deploys the three of his sons rather on Britain far from Dülmen, Germany. “I'll share my screen with you,  Dad. Look how a bug nags me with our ancestry” “I do not see it yet. A bug hunting our ancestry? How?” “A virus for sure. “How? The COVID? Is it there already? I wanted just to say no horse catch and buy show is in Dülmen this season because of it. Better for you also to stay put there in your dig.” “Versity under curfew already. My notebook went to crap. Look, how it chatters…” “Sure, the home office. Behind the keyboard, just to pee and see whats up online.” “Poppycock. Margo infected the

Although The Duke scans the screen through Alex mobile, it seems unsure how Alex would deal with viruses, if ever, due to a recondite voice emitting from the notebook. -“Who the heck speaks in this gibberish?” In Dülmen, at the other end of the phone, the cryptic speach trails off into familiar for the Duke although. -“Holy spigot! He speaks chi’timi!” -“What? Chi’timi? What is it and who is that he?” -“Ha ha! Someone from Picardy!” The Duke knows all about Picardy. What sounds asinine to Alex, seduces the Duke’s memory with the funny tch’mi, the local French dialect of Johann, the Picquigny nautical base owner he shares once and again the 1,5 hour long rafting with on the river Somme to Croy Saint Pierre, three leagues northeast of Amiens. Croy Saint Pierre is the village along the Somme river, the dynastic House of Croy adopted its name from. The Arpadian Prince Marc marrie

Liz has already realized to have only a quarter to noon. However she sets off two by two to the limestone treads. To get to the wall walk, about 30 meters high from the inner ward, she must climb more than 80 stairs, with their high rises roughly cut and loose. - Bon sang! With half meter per second velocity, I get to the top in a minute. She canters upward with feet almost unaware of treads. Seldom does the Croatian sun shine as cruelly as now just as to burn her brain dead out. When her lean figure romps around at the next flight of stairs, the white hot slabs of the stronghold wall panic her as if to knock her out for good. - Totally flawsome of you, Andrew, to have us to see your death at noon! She paces the stairs, as heedless as she is, and takes on her steely determination to see at long last how and why Prince Andrew died in the past. Here in Trogir and in 1241 when Mongols occupy Hungary. - Now me and Alex will detect and certify that Prince And