Falaise

Falaise: Epilogue

This is the last chapter, enjoy!

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To Buggy's great relief, the Duchy was in the exact same state as when he had left, albeit the constant flow of incoming mercenaries looking for a job after having heard about the Duke's feat in England.

Impatient, Rasiphe barely waited for Buggy to get off his horse to leap at him, almost tackling him to the ground with his hug. He kept repeating 'I knew you'd do it, I knew you'd do it!' until Crocodile had to tear him away from Buggy after the blue-haired man had sent him a pleading look.

His friend's proud happiness was a joy to behold, and Buggy couldn't help but smile for the rest of the day. He told him about the battle of Hastings, about Teach's death, but also about the way Shanks had treated him. Rasiphe got angry on his behalf, growing heated as he hurled insults at the red-hair, unable to get over the way the man had acted. 'I'll kill him, one day!' He kept saying, both him and Buggy knowing full well neither of them really wanted it. It was still nice to hear.

They stayed together for hours, relating stories that had happened during the time they were apart, alone in a sitting room while Crocodile and Mihawk waited outside.

Once they had finally caught up, and Buggy was sure he'd told Rasiphe everything he'd been wanting to, Buggy started to arrange his return. He reasserted himself in the castle's numerous rooms, bringing in gifts and furnitures he'd brought back from England.

He went around the garrisons, once again thanking his troops, granting some wishes and financially rewarding others.

After two days back in Normandy, Mohji and Cabaji approached him on their guard, as if they already knew Buggy wouldn't like whatever they were about to bring up.

'Buggy, you're a King now,' Cabaji started, 'people have been converging at Falaise ever since the coronation.' Mohji added.

Buggy frowned. 'Yes, and?' He asked, urging them to keep going. Both men stood awkwardly.

Losing patience, Crocodile growled 'Spit it out'.

Cowering in front of the scarred man, the advisors finally talked. 'As a King, people want you to show yourself in public, especially after your success in England. We believe there is something you should do to assert your control over the Duchy....' both men looked at each other before they talked. 'You have to give a speech.'

Buggy froze. 'Oh. Really?'

Both men nodded hesitantly.

'Sure, I'll do it.' Buggy answered with a shrug, surprising the four men in the room. Somehow, everyone always seemed to forget that being a coward didn't mean that Buggy hated to put on a performance. Quite the opposite, actually.

Both advisors left, sheepish, as Buggy went back to his business.

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The address took place three days later, in the early evening right before the sun started its descent.

A platform had been assembled in the town centre against the fortifications, and torches had been arranged through the streets in preparation for nightfall. The crowd had gathered right before the time written on the posters, those able to read taking on informing the people they met, and word of mouth doing the rest.

Buggy had put on his long orange cloak and let his blue hair down, claiming that there was no point in showing himself outside if he didn't appear flashily. Everyone had reluctantly agreed, already knowing it would be impossible to change his mind.