Work Text:
A True Knight
by BookwormDragon
Disclaimer: A Knight's Tale and the Characters therein do not belong to me. I'm not sure exactly who they do belong to, but I know it's not me.
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William stood in the tent, stunned at what he had just heard. Chaucer owed TEN GOLD FLORINS! Sweet Mary, Mother of Christ! How could anyone lose that much money playing a game of dice? A gambling problem, indeed! Chaucer was clearly a very intelligent man, so to bet that much money when he didn't have it and couldn't pay it, he truly must be drawn to the dice like flies to a corpse. But what was he supposed to do about it? He certainly didn't have ten gold florins. He was, in fact, risking all their potential wealth on the tournament already. Unless he won both the Joust and the Sword, there would be tight times on the road to the next Tourney. To be sure, as long as he won at least one of the events, they wouldn't starve, but caring for the horse and gear and so on was surprisingly costly, especially since they had to take care not to give away the game. Peasants might sleep in barns when they traveled, but Knights and Nobility did not, not unless they were forced to seek shelter from a storm or some such. And, of course, he really needed some armor that actually fit him. Poorly fitting armor made winning that much harder, not to mention that it looked bad and drew unnecessary attention to them. Why would a Noble joust in poorly fitting armor, after all? But armor was really, really costly. A well made set could cost enough to buy a large cottage, in fact - something most peasants could never even dream of achieving. Even if he won both the Sword and the Joust here, he figured that it would take at least two more tourneys - and some extremely careful husbanding of their coin - before they could even begin to afford to replace what he had now, provided he won those tourneys as well, of course. And if he lost both the Joust and the Sword here, well, that would probably be the end of his dream. Not to mention the end of Rolan and Wat's dreams as well. In fact, William wasn't really sure what any of them would do if he lost. Beg in the streets? His friends were risking everything for him, he couldn't let them down.
And then the voice of the oily rector intruded on his musings, jerking him back to the present, "...He assured us that you, his Liege, would pay his debt."What?! His Liege! William was no one's Liege! Except...he was claiming to be a Knight. Suddenly, William realized what they must look like to others. Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein and his vassals, Rolan and Wat - and Chaucer, of course. A Knight and his men, his loyal retainers. A Liege Lord. Responsible for the behavior and debts of his vassals, claiming their labor and loyalty in return. Him, William Thatcher, a Liege Lord! Suddenly, he realized that being a Knight was about more than Jousting and Tournaments.