Twelve times

He had arrived at the church, but had not found a priest. But he didn't want to go back. He didn't want to stay in a bedroom with Louis longer than necessary. Besides this fact, the urge to pray weighed heavily on him. Since there was no priest with whom he could put his sins on the confessional, Godric had knelt before the altar and humbly his head before the wooden cross. It was a simple altar, but it had no meaning for Godric. In his eyes it wasn't the altar that was important, but the dedication. Godric would pray anywhere as long as he was there with all his heart. So he kneeled on the wooden floor and folded his hands in prayer. Godric closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction. It was quiet and nobody seemed to bother him. The blue-haired father appreciated this calm. He liked to sink into some kind of meditation during prayer. While Godric was praying, he freed himself from all worldly burdens and thought only of his master. The art of meditation was important to him and the