Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story except the plot, sadly
Chaucer isn't mine. (
Aye, this is my first fanfic, so please go easy on me? Unless it's
horrible, then say whatever you want (
Chapter one: A Writer's tale
Geoffrey Chaucer, once again, was naked on the side of the road. This time, it didn't bother him. He did have something this time, something that no man could take away. He had his memories of jousting. Err... announcing 'Sir Olric's' jousting matches. He had made thousands on a book he had written based on his experiences, consequently called A Knight's Tale. However big the success and however fond the memories, Chaucer was still a gambler at heart. Although he had done his best to keep it at bay, a 'storm' erupted, shaking up the waters and reviving his passion for betting.
It happened in a French tavern, about three years after the ordeal in London. He decided he would wait about a year or so to finish the book, waiting for the ever awaited event- William finally leaving the dreaded Jocelyn. Geoff chuckled thinking about it. The woman had once again tried to make him prove his love, this time making him live outside with the pigs, in their ah... droppings for a whole week. In the end, Wat, Roland, Kate and himself had convinced the knight to leave the beast, Wat suggesting that he killed her. To everyone's dismay, Will did not kill the extremely historically inaccurate princess, deciding that it wouldn't be very knightly.
Eventually, the dashing knight met an all around charming girl, his true love. They got married and moved to London. Roland and Wat went to England also, staying squires to William. Kate traveled around the world, proving her skill to passing knights, making them the new, light, bendable armor. That left Chaucer, he decided that he would temporarily move to Ireland to write his book, he always was soothed by the smell of potatoes. He finished his story and gambled on the sellings. Like many artists, their work is not discovered until after they die. The same it would be with Geoffrey. He had lost all physical belongings and when not able to pay the remainder of the money, he spent three days in the stocks and a month in jail. Remembering his last encounter with betting, he decided that it would be best not to return to his friends in this state. So, he set of wherever his feet would take him.
Chapter one: A Writer's tale
Geoffrey Chaucer, once again, was naked on the side of the road. This time, it didn't bother him. He did have something this time, something that no man could take away. He had his memories of jousting. Err... announcing 'Sir Olric's' jousting matches. He had made thousands on a book he had written based on his experiences, consequently called A Knight's Tale. However big the success and however fond the memories, Chaucer was still a gambler at heart. Although he had done his best to keep it at bay, a 'storm' erupted, shaking up the waters and reviving his passion for betting.
It happened in a French tavern, about three years after the ordeal in London. He decided he would wait about a year or so to finish the book, waiting for the ever awaited event- William finally leaving the dreaded Jocelyn. Geoff chuckled thinking about it. The woman had once again tried to make him prove his love, this time making him live outside with the pigs, in their ah... droppings for a whole week. In the end, Wat, Roland, Kate and himself had convinced the knight to leave the beast, Wat suggesting that he killed her. To everyone's dismay, Will did not kill the extremely historically inaccurate princess, deciding that it wouldn't be very knightly.
Eventually, the dashing knight met an all around charming girl, his true love. They got married and moved to London. Roland and Wat went to England also, staying squires to William. Kate traveled around the world, proving her skill to passing knights, making them the new, light, bendable armor. That left Chaucer, he decided that he would temporarily move to Ireland to write his book, he always was soothed by the smell of potatoes. He finished his story and gambled on the sellings. Like many artists, their work is not discovered until after they die. The same it would be with Geoffrey. He had lost all physical belongings and when not able to pay the remainder of the money, he spent three days in the stocks and a month in jail. Remembering his last encounter with betting, he decided that it would be best not to return to his friends in this state. So, he set of wherever his feet would take him.