This fic is a Medieval Alternative Universe inspired by William the Conqueror's conquest of England and in which Buggy is the Duke and Crocodile and Mihawk are knights.
The fic is actually fully written and contains 23 chapters which will be posted twice a week, on Wednesdays and Sundays. Hope you'll enjoy the journey!
Just a small disclaimer: Though I am inspired by medieval times, in no way do I seek historical accuracy, and though I won't voluntarily use misinterpretations, keep in mind that there will be some mistakes!
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The King was declared dead at 10:18 AM, surrounded by his closest personal attendant and a few of his most trusted courtiers. No descendants of his were present when the King breathed his last breath.
His body was not even cold yet that the news had already crossed the borders of his territory. The highly coveted and newly empty throne caused a stir in the entirety of Europe, the power it entailed being of the utmost importance in the balance of Europe's political order.
In its direct line of succession were two appointed brothers; Red-Haired Shanks, and Buggy the Jester. Both living in the Kingdom of France.
The eldest, in his early twenties, with hair red as fire, was the Duke of Aquitaine, in Poitiers. The younger, in his late teens, with hair as blue as the sea, was the Duke of Normandy, living in the Château de Falaise.
The two men were not of the same blood. They did not share the same parents, and though they were both Dukes, they did not share the same relations. If they were often referred to as brothers, it was, namely, because they had been raised in the same household, and had both been disciples of the same man: Gol. D. Roger, King of England, and newly deceased.
The two boys had been raised by his side from the age of 5 to 16 for Shanks, and 3 to 14 for Buggy. After completing their training and gaining connections, the two boys had been called back to their respective families, with the promise from the King to pass on his throne to the boys upon his death.
The details of such a deal had been carefully hidden, and not even the two boys or their families were made aware of the actual content of such agreement. But five years later, it seemed that the time had come for the two Dukes to claim their due.
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Naturally, the news reached Buggy first. Its unexpectedness caught him by surprise, the letter sporting the familiar stamp of the Royal Family not once arousing his suspicion.
He was standing alone in his own chamber when he unsealed the letter, eager to read the news coming from his beloved father figure. The world could be a cruel place for nobles, friends turning out to be foes, and foes very well looking for your seat. In such a context, good souls like King Roger could be a literal gift from the sky, and their friendship was to be treasured.
Finding Rayleigh's writing instead of Roger's wasn't unusual, but the first sentence was.
'Dear Buggy,
It is with great sorrow that I am writing this letter to you. This very morning, at 10:18, Sir Roger died.'
Buggy stood there, unable to read the rest of the letter as his vision blurred with tears. His first thought was that it had to be a deception, a ploy of some sort to make him do foolish things. But his heart knew. It was Rayleigh's handwriting, and the blonde man would never agree to take part in any sort of power games. More than that, Rayleigh would never write about Roger's death if it wasn't real. He wouldn't. Couldn't.
It then meant that Roger was really..- Buggy wiped his eyes, uncaring of the makeup he was sure to smear. He had to pull himself together. A Duke of his stature should not let himself be overwhelmed by his emotions. But Roger was dead, and Buggy had not been at his side when it had happened.
The blue-haired man was slowly realising the full extent of the implication. There would be no more slipping away from the guards to take a walk in town, no more sea trips spent looking for sunken treasures, no more rough training leaving him breathless and sweaty. He would never hear Roger's boisterous laugh again, or the sound of his name in the older man's tone, so genuine and affectionate.
Roger was gone, and Buggy felt lonelier than ever.
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For the fifth time this day, Mihawk avoided the punch thrown at his face as he started collecting the cards from the makeshift table.
In front of him, Crocodile huffed. He threw his cards on the table, leaning against the wall behind him. 'Enough, I refuse to play another round with you. I don't know how you do it, but you're playing dirty, that's for sure.' Crocodile grunted, folding his arms as he closed his eyes.
'Not even the decider?' Mihawk asked in a neutral tone.
'Oh shut up, you won all the fucking games' Crocodile answered, obviously pissed off.
Mihawk grinned as he finished arranging the deck of cards, putting the whole packet into its designated pouch. He took a last sip of his cider before leaning against the wall behind him, mirroring Crocodile's position. He turned his head towards the arrow slit, checking the surroundings, unsurprised to see nothing unusual.
To be on guard in broad daylight was definitely the worst posting they could be assigned to, but their presence here could be explained by the fact that they were still relatively new here.
Mihawk actually came from the south, while Crocodile came from the South East. Soldiers weren't really meant to travel, but it was less unusual for mercenaries to find themselves in a Duchy that was not theirs.
It didn't matter to these two, as they had adapted well to Normandy. Not to the climate, though. That was something entirely different. They still couldn't fathom how it could rain so much and so often.
'Any news from Red Hair?' Crocodile asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
Mihawk tensed, hitting the other man's leg from under the table. 'Don't mention him so carelessly, people could hear and get the wrong idea.'
Crocodile shrugged, opening one eye. 'There's no one here.'
Mihawk ignored his last comment, sighing. 'I didn't receive anything yet, he still doesn't know I'm here.' He paused, looking around, lowering his voice. 'He's probably busy anyway. From what I can recall, he was waiting for an appropriate time to reconnect with some former allies, something to do with negotiations or something.'
Crocodile hummed, smirking. 'Look at you, haughty Hawk Eyes possibly taking part in a rebellion.'
'I'm not taking part in anything-' He huffed, calming down. 'Stop spouting nonsense. I have severed all contact with Red Hair. I don't know what he's up to, whatever he's planning, and I won't take part in any of it. I've given enough.'
Crocodile looked at him, unconvinced, but didn't retort as they heard footsteps coming their way. Would they finally be allowed to leave that fucking tower?
The footsteps came closer, and both men watched as two guards in similar uniforms entered the tower, visibly out of breath from having climbed all of those stairs.
One of the soldiers spoke between heavy breathings. 'It's changeover, get back to your quarters.' The other one added, 'Duke's asking for a meeting tomorrow morning, be on time and presentable.', ushering them to leave quickly.
Crocodile and Mihawk didn't need to be asked twice.
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The throne room was packed the following morning. Dressed in elegant clothes, Buggy waited for most of the guards and his courtiers, but also curious people living around, to be seated. It was a formal event, but it was usual for the commoners of Falaise to join the assemblies, eager to hear the news coming from neighbouring regions.
Buggy had talked to Cabaji and Mohji, his two main advisors, about the letter, and discussed how he should address it. They'd advised him to actually announce the news in public, instead of simply writing it down and hanging it on the information board. "It is a news people should hear from their Duke.", they'd said.
Buggy had been against it, at first, unsure of whether or not he would be able to speak while keeping his composure. But he'd come to the conclusion that it was indeed his role to announce such a thing. His appointment as Duke was still something new in people's minds, and mishaps in such a delicate position could put him at risk in the people's eyes.
Buggy already wasn't respected that much, he didn't need to add fuel to the blooming fire.
Deeming it time, Mohji and Cabaji, sitting on either side of Buggy, stood up, asking for calm. The room went slowly silent, the silence overwhelming to Buggy's ear.
'The Duke will now address his vassals.' Mohji exclaimed, while Cabaji handed Buggy the speech they'd written together early this morning.
Taking a huge breath, Buggy stood up as his advisors sat back down, taking a broad look at the room. 'Okay, you can do it', he thought to himself.
He cleared his throat, bracing himself. 'People of Falaise, I am addressing you today in regard to a letter I have received as of yesterday. Its provenance, from Westminster Abbey bore the news of the death of the King of England, Gol. D. Roger.'
The crowd went into uproar at the news, people asking questions at the same time. Buggy motioned for the crowd to be quiet, continuing to read.
'The king of England, loved by all, and mentor of mine, died of illness. No one is to blame for his sudden disappearance.' This seemed to calm the crowd, visibly satisfied by the addition.
'As for his succession, it is yet to be determined, but I, Buggy, Duke of Normandy, and due to my prolonged stay in England, should have a right for the throne, alongside other pretenders, including Red-Haired Shanks, Duke of Aquitaine.'
This last sentence caused another uproar, people talking amongst themselves, whispering to each other. Even the guards couldn't keep silent.
Seeing as the crowd was content with the information it'd been delivered, Buggy decided to end his speech here. 'All matters have now been addressed. You may go about your business again. For my part, I will withdraw to my quarters.'
He folded the sheet, slipping it inside his robes and made a step towards the exit. Already, people were starting to leave the throne room by the outside door. Deciding that there was no need to wait for everyone to be out, he stepped down the throne's stairs, walking towards the door on his right.
He heard hurried footsteps behind him and turned just in time to see a man throw himself at him, a knife in hand. He stood there, frozen, as he watched the man come nearer and nearer. He took a step back, stumbling over the red carpet and falling to the floor.
Right when he thought that it was over for him, Buggy watched from the corner of his eyes two guards jump over their seats and run towards the madman. The taller one tackled the attacker to the ground, while the smaller one disarmed him and held his own knife against his neck, making the man unable to make a move at the risk of cutting his own throat.
Buggy stayed glued to the floor until his two advisors ran to him, picking him up. Dizzy, and his eyes slightly blurry from his head hitting the floor, he looked towards the two guards who'd tackled his assailant, still busy holding him to the ground.
His advisors led Buggy away from the scene, forcing him to look away. Ushering him inside a safer room, they led him to an office. 'It seems like you were not the only one to receive a letter, Sir. The news is already out, and people are already coming for your head.' Cabaji told him, and it made Buggy look up.
'To come for my head? Why?' He asked as his advisors let go of him.
Mohji answered, 'Because you're a potential pretender to the throne of England, Sir. If you were to disappear, you would be one less obstacle to these malevolent people.'
It made sense. Or at least he thought so. He looked at his own clothes, dusting his jacket, and arranging himself. Occupying himself.
He looked at Mohji. 'Where are the two guards now?'
'What?' His advisors asked.
'Where are the two guards who stopped the man?' Buggy asked again.
'Hum, probably leading the man to the oubliettes, sir.' Mohji answered, visibly confused.
'Get them.' Buggy immediately said.
His advisor looked uncertain, as if he was surprised by the Duke's order.
'Bring them here, Mohji.' Buggy said again, with a firmer tone.
Mohji nodded, slipping out of the room quickly. He loudly came back a few minutes later, followed by two men wearing coats of mail and nasal helmets, steel helmets with a bar coming in front of the nose to protect the wearer's face.
The two men came to stand in front of Buggy, and the latter nodded to his two advisors to leave the room. They complied.
Now alone with the guards, Buggy made them take their helmets off. 'What are your names, soldiers?' he asked straight away.
The taller man answered first. 'Crocodile.'
Buggy turned towards the other man.
Seemingly more hesitant, he answered still. 'Dracule Mihawk, Sir.'
Buggy nodded, rising from his seat.
'Thank you for saving me, soldiers,' He didn't give them time to react, continuing, 'It appears that this will not be a one-time attack, though. Which is why I asked you to come here.' He paused, looking each knight in the eyes before continuing, 'Crocodile, Dracule Mihawk, be my knights.'
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So! I hope that this first chapter made you want to read the rest! Please do tell me what you thought about it.
Just to give you a little bit of context behind the creation of this fic: I got the idea behind it when I visited William's castle in Falaise in Normandy and found the idea of Buggy being a Duke nicknamed the Jester hilarious. So here we are, eight months later, and 23 chapters finally complete! I didn't think it would turn into such a long project, but I had so much fun writing it, and I hope you will enjoy this fic as much as I loved creating it!
Don't hesitate to leave kudos and comments, it actually motivates me to write more and always make me happy! See you on Sunday!