Chapter Text
Ulrich. That's the name Roland and watt had given him all those years ago. It's the name they had found in his satchel bag. Ulrich had no memory of such a name. The only name he did remember was Yusuf. But Ulrich knew that could not possibly be his name. Roland and watt knew that too. Because Roland and watt could not for the life of them tell the difference between an accent from Liechtenstein and an accent from Italy they decided that his name must be Ulrich.
"You have to be of noble birth to compete, Ulrich." Roland said glaring at Ulrich who held the coins that he needed in his hands. "One fluke. Ulrich. That was one thing but against real knights. We could get arrested."
"Who said I wasn't a noble before now." Ulrich groaned, "I don't know who I am for all I know I could be the bloody pope."
"if you were the pope you wouldn't smell like shit would you?" Watt retorted Ulrich glared, "Don't do that face, Ulrich. You know I hate that soft, kind face-FINE!"
"Come on watt you're stronger than...Okay, Ulrich you win." Roland sighed, "But if this get's me arrested I will take it very personally."
Ulrich smirked and kicked his legs up in the air.
"We could just kill him." Watt joked, truly he loved his friend but you know what they say - the prettier you are the dumber you are and it was really being reflected in Ulrich's actions.
The Trio walked along the road towards Rouen where the tournament was being held.
Watt and Ulrich fought about who should ride the horse.
"That's unfair. I've been leading it for ages. I should get to ride on it." Watt grumbled.
Ulrich raised an eyebrow, "You're supposed to be my squire, how's it gonna look if they see me a knight leading my squire around?"
"Charitable." Roland laughed, "Ulrich the kind. Maybe that's what they'll call you in years to come. Years to come before you're impending doom of getting hanged, drawn, and quartered for falsifying your knightly claim"
"Please Ulrich." Watt groaned, "Don't be a cock just because you're the one doing the tournament. I-
Watts voiced stopped when a naked man marched between the boys and continued on.
"Oy sir." Ulrich raised his eyebrows, "what are you doing."
"Trudging." He said. The man turned around, bare ass and looking like he had no idea. The three boys clearly not comfortable enough with their masculinity to look a naked man in the eye, all started feeling fighty. The man sighed, "You know to trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in his life except the impulse to simply soldier on."
Ulrich felt a sad pang in his chest, "were you robbed?"
"Yes." The man laughed, " and at the same time a huge, resounding NO. It's more a sort of involuntary vow of poverty, really. But you know, on the brighter side, trudging does represent pride; pride, resolve and faith in the good Lord Almighty."
"So who are you?" Wat piped up, eyeing the man. Wat was clearly the most uncomfortable man or rather he was just really bad at holding back his emotions.
"Lilium inter spinos." He replied matter-o-factly, "The lily among the thorns. You know geoffrey chaucer's the name, writing's the game?"
The trio shrugged.
"You know." mr chaucer said, "the writer? GEOFFREY CHAUCER?"
Ulrich did feel something familiar about him, but couldn't put his finger on it so like the rest of his friends he shrugged again. Deciding to internalise it.
"A what?" Roland asked, given his usual days of getting his arse beat by nights, following some shitty orders, and shoveling horse shit for a living - meeting a person who writes for a living wasn't a normal experience.
"a what?." Mr Chaucer blinked, " A what?!? A writer! You know, I write, with ink and parchment! For a penny I'll scribble you anything you want, from summonses to decrees, edicts, warrants, patents of nobility .... I've even been known to jot down a poem or two if the Muse descends. You've probably read my book, the Book of the Duchess?
"No." Roland and wat let out while Ulrich responded with, "yes."
"Sorry. No I haven't." Ulrich fixed his statement quickly.
"Fine," Chaucer sighed, "well, it was allegorical."
"Oh." Ulrich said, "Love who you love, man."
"that's not what I. Allegory means-"
"did you say patents of nobility?" Ulrich interrupted.
"yes, in fact I did." Chaucer smiled, "who are you?"
"I'm sir ulrich von Liechtenstein." Ulrich announced himself, after all these years Ulrich still never truly felt right on him.
"and I'm richard the lionheart." joked the naked man, "oh wait no no I'm john the baptist."
Ulrich raised his sword and held it against Chaucer's throat.
"Alright hold your tongue or you'll lose it." Ulrich's eyes became intense, flaming as if that was not the first time he'd dealt out that threat.
Chaucers smile became bright and humour shone through it.
"Now see that, I do believe"
"Thank you" Ulrich put down his sword, eyes lowering as if to analyse chaucer, "Geoff."
"is that all, diogenes?" Roland glared at Geoff, "may we go?"
"Are you off to the tournament." Geoff's eyes peaking up with interest, "In Rouen?"
"Yes, we are." Watt replied, "this is that road is it not?"
"Oh, you know that really remains to be seen," Geoff laughed at his own joke. "You see, they're limiting the field at Rouen. Noble birth must be established for four generations on either side of the family. Patents of nobility must be provided."
"What do you want." Ulrich asked, "Money?"
" Listen, clothe me, shoe me, for God's sake feed me, let me ride that horse a bit and you'll have your patents" Geoff begged, "Please."
"I think-" Ulrich turned to Roland, but Watt again the more emotionally unstable of the two decided to step forward.
"betray us," He inched his face close to geoff and breathed heavily (Not in a sexy way, just to be clear). " and I will fong you until your insides are out, your outsides are in, your entrails will become your extrails, I will wreak ... all your .... pain! Lots of pain!" He screamed that last bit.