The Duke's Appetite for Praise
Centuries ago, in a fertile valley surrounded by rolling hills, ruled Duke Heinrich. He was rich, powerful, and often, he was feared. But the Duke had a secret hunger. Not for rich food or fine wines. His craving was for words. Sweet words.
He loved compliments. He loved to hear how wise he was. How strong. How magnificent. His courtiers knew this. Most offered polite praise, as was custom. But one man saw an opportunity. His name was Ulrich.
Ulrich was a lesser noble. He had little land, no great title. He wanted more. He watched the Duke carefully. He listened to every conversation. He noticed the Duke’s small smile when someone praised his new velvet cloak.
He saw the Duke’s subtle frown when an honest, unvarnished remark was made. Ulrich understood. The fastest path to power in this court was paved with flattery.
He decided he would become the Duke’s most devoted admirer. Others might have called it weakness. Ulrich called it strategy.
He began his campaign slowly. A small comment on the Duke’s exceptional hunting skill. Then a quiet praise for his excellent judgment in a minor court dispute.
The Duke responded. A nod here, a grunt of pleasure there. Ulrich saw it working. The Duke was opening up, like a flower to the sun.
But Ulrich knew he needed more than just a few kind words. He needed a constant, overwhelming flow.
A Constant Drip of Sweetness
Ulrich became a master of praise. He praised the Duke’s booming voice, claiming it could 'strike fear into the hearts of any enemy!'
He praised the Duke’s clothes, declaring, 'Only a true ruler could carry such fine fabrics with such grace!'
He praised the Duke’s horses, insisting they were 'nobler even than the stallions of kings!'
He even praised the Duke’s terrible jokes, announcing them as 'a wit so sharp, my lord, it cuts through the very air!'
Ulrich followed the Duke everywhere. He was a shadow of approval. He always had a compliment ready, seemingly fresh and sincere.
The Duke, at first, simply enjoyed it. He grew accustomed to Ulrich’s endless adoration. Soon, he sought it. If Ulrich was silent for a moment, the Duke would glance his way expectantly.
Ulrich understood the unspoken demand. He would then launch into another wave of praise, sweet as honey.
Other courtiers rolled their eyes. They began calling Ulrich 'the Honey-Tongue.' They would say quietly among themselves, 'He just smears honey around the Duke’s mouth, that’s all he does.'