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Chapter Text

Set a few months after the events of the season one finale, Musketeers Don’t Die Easily.

“So we are agreed, then.  A unified front to Louis against this ridiculous idea.  A waste of men, firepower, not to mention the unconscionable assault on innocent citizens,” Treville said to Richelieu.

“To your first two points, I am in agreement, Treville,” the Cardinal replied.  “How innocent many of the miscreants who infest the Court are is up for debate.”

“Be that as it may.   I am not inclined to commit my men- nor should you be for you to commit yours- to such a morally questionable mission.”

“It unfortunately comes down to his majesty’s mood, and the day of the week, I’m afraid.”

“Despite the weather, we should never have taken that detour from the Palace the other day, allowing him a close glimpse of the Court.  I suppose it makes sense that Louis’ reaction to the squalor would not be sympathy at the living conditions of his subjects, but a reaction akin to the smelling of something foul, which needs to be removed.”

Adding to the King’s distaste was the reaction to seeing him passing in his royal carriage; instead of the appropriate bowing and cheering, many leered at him, and some even hissed.  It was unacceptable, and a bit unnerving.  Treville even surmised that Louis’ subsequent suggestion after they returned to the Palace to vacate all of the Court’s citizens to somewhere outside of Paris proper had a lot to do with his having been frightened by their reaction.

When Treville and Richelieu both mentioned that ‘relocation’ would not be accepted peacefully by the Court residents, it was then that Louis suggested that armed Red Guards and Musketeers alike shoot to kill any protestors!

The plan had not yet progressed beyond the initial conversation, as both the Cardinal and Treville had first begged the King to reconsider, or at least sleep on it; they also asked that they confer first regarding logistics.  They ended the discussion with yet another strong suggestion against the plan.

“This is so frustrating- needing to kowtow to a childish King whenever a new bee shows up in his bonnet,” Treville spat.

Richelieu offered a nod in assent and a small smile.

In truth, the last few weeks with the Cardinal had gone incredibly smoothly.  It was to the point that each had openly shared their mutual gripes about the King, both coming dangerously close to treasonous words, such as Treville had just uttered. 

It spoke to their newly found mutual trust and respect that each felt free to speak so candidly in front of one another.  Loose lips, of course, can sink ships.

Garrison-

“Why is D’Artagnan standing on his head?”  Porthos asked Athos.

“I hate to answer a question with a question, Porthos, but have you not met D’Artagnan?  The more appropriate question might be, has he managed any sane activity today yet?”

Aramis, walking over from where D’Artagnan stood wrong-side up, walked over.

Seeing the quizzical looks on his brothers’ faces as they looked over to where their youngest was precariously perched, Aramis said, “I merely stated, after a particularly ridiculous comment from the boy, that his brain must be blood-deprived.  I suppose he is trying to ameliorate the situation.”

Aramis then smiled. “In truth, he took recruit George up on a bet that he couldn’t balance himself upside down for five minutes.”

Porthos’ eyes went wide.  “Is the wagerin’ over?!!?”

Just then, Treville called the Inseparables up to his office.

The Captain felt it expedient to bring his best men up to speed on the King’s plan for the Court.  Even though it was not officially ordered yet, his concern over logistics, and any possible short timeframe that Louis might give once it was officially decreed, made him feel the need for proper coordination.

The Captain, to his credit, looked Porthos straight in the face during his mission description.  The large Musketeer’s strained and stern countenance could not be missed.

Athos:  “The munitions reserve is at full capacity, but if we were to do this- and I surely hope that cooler heads prevail, and we do not- then I suggest stealth.  We should attack from the outskirts, slowly moving inward, in order to reduce communication, which would lead to them organizing and-“

“An’ by ‘them’ you mean the innocent men, women an’ children of the Court, correct?”  Porthos interrupted.  “An’ where are ya sendin’ them?”

“That also needs to be discussed-“

“How ‘bout the New World?  THAT far away enough?!?”

“Alright, gentlemen; enough,” Treville said.  “As I have said, nothing has been decided for certain yet.  However if the order is given, we will need to caucus together to see how we can minimize injury and loss of life- on both sides.”

And with that, they were dismissed.

The mood was lightened- albeit ever so slightly- by the sight of D’artagnan, swaying back and forth on his two hands, keeling over and landing hard onto his behind, into the Garrison turf.

Chapter Text

Arriving at the Palace the next day, the Cardinal summoned Treville to his office.  He had a look of relief on his face.

“We are saved.  I mentioned the King’s plan for the Court, and he agreed it was too extreme a step.  I held my tongue regarding any- less extreme measures to be taken regarding the Court’s subjects, and decided simply to take the win.  His attention seems to be focused squarely back on, God help us all, a new armada of warships.  I’m wondering if clearing out the Court may end up being less of a headache.”

Treville smiled with delight and relief.

No sooner had the good news been delivered to Porthos, Aramis, and Athos that, just two days later, Treville was summoned back to the Palace.

As soon as he entered the King’s quarters, he felt the weight of the anger emitting from the King.  Not helping was the stern, dead-serious face on the Cardinal.

“Your Majesty?”  Treville managed.

“Explain yourself, Captain.”

“I beg your pardon- for what?’

“Your utter lack of respect.”

‘Your Majesty, you have me at a disadvantage-“

“So I am childish, am I?  With a bee stuck in my bonnet, yes?”

Treville blanched.  He glanced over at Richelieu.

The Cardinal’s expression displayed none of the mirth he might have expected several months ago.  In fact, if he were reading it correctly, he might even call it empathy.

“You were reported being overheard calling me childish to the Cardinal the other day, complaining of my plan on the expulsion of the undesirables from the Court of Miracles.  Do you deny it?”

“Your Majes-“

“SPARE ME THE PLATITUDES!!!  I will not be disrespected in this manner by my underlings!”

“Your- I did not mean to imply that you were childish; simply that I found the mission ill-advised.”

“Oh, you do, do you?  Well, how unfortunate that is for you and your men, Treville, because the plan is back on.  As of now. Both the Musketeers and Red Guard will be engaged.  Cardinal, you and Treville have two days to formulate a plan and report back to me.  And Treville, do not even think of disobeying my order.  If you do so, I simply will go over your head and order my Musketeers to attack.  They, at least, respect me and will follow my lead.  Dismissed.”

Richelieu quickly added, “With all due respect, Your Majesty...”

“DISMISSED!” the King bellowed out a shout that could be heard throughout the Palace.

Five minutes later, in the Cardinal’s chamber, and this time, ensuring that their discussion could not be overheard, Treville asked, “How the hell did this happen?”

Richelieu quickly responded, “I have no idea.  I did not rat you out, certainly.”

“I believe you.”  Treville knew it was the truth.  Putting aside the unlikely truce the two men had found recently, it was also obvious how both men found Louis’ idea folly, and it was in no way in the Cardinal’s best interest to move forward with such a suicidal plan.

“With the clock ticking I suggest we concentrate on the mission instead of who spoke to the King.”

Treville agreed.  “Since loss of life must be avoided at all costs, I first suggest a meeting with the Court’s top leaders.  Perhaps a candid discussion can pave the way for a non-violent-“

“Let me stop you right there, Treville.  We had been on the same page regarding an avoidance of this mission.  But now that it is clear that the King will not see reason, I do not intend to lose a single one of my Red Guard to these ruffians.”

“And I resent the implication that I wish to lose any of mine.”

Richelieu ignored the comment.  “No good will come out of a ‘discussion’, and you know it.  Louis does not realize it, but this decision will make the Court residents go from them disliking him, to outright hatred, leading to acts of violence.  Not only that, but relocating them would not only be logistically difficult, it would be impossible.

“Therefore, we need to go in and take the offensive.  The moment they answer with a refusal to be moved, we strike, and strike hard.  Resistors will either be jailed, or wiped out.  Preparing for anything less puts our soldiers at risk.”

“You cannot be sanctioning the incarceration or extermination of an entire neighborhood of innocent lives!”

“Innocent?  Hardly.  They are mostly low-bred scum, criminals and panderers.”

“And does that include their wives?  Their children?  Who are you trying to convince, Richelieu?”

“Any less extreme approach puts your men at risk, Treville.  If we hit hard first-before they can defend themselves, our casualties will be limited.  Do you not care about the welfare of your own men?”

“How does concern over my men translate into the systematic murdering of civilians?!!??”

“My decision is final,” the Cardinal snapped back, sharply.  “And two days hence, which approach do you think the King will approve?

“I suggest we discuss what ‘relocation’ actually means, if anything, and what a post-vermin infected Court would look like, in order to provide a unified proposal to our King, post-haste.”

Our King.

And just like that, the uneasy ‘truce’ between men was irretrievably shattered, as, suddenly, Treville could no longer stand to look at the man.

“Treville!”  Richelieu called out to his disgusted, retreating back.

That there was still a villainous eavesdropper out there was suddenly the least of Treville’s problems.

Chapter Text

Treville had summoned Athos- and Athos alone- to his office.  He was feeling sick over the meeting with the King and Cardinal, and was in disbelief at the mission befalling him, especially in light of the potentially tragic disconnect him and Richelieu had just established.

He admitted his transgression- his slip of the tongue in front of Richelieu, to his lieutenant, it’s being overheard and reported, and the King’s subsequent tirade.

“I fear that, as a result of my gaffe, hundreds of lives may be at stake.”     

Treville let the comment hang there, making Athos wonder if his Captain was looking for- absolution?  Reassurance?

“Then let us caucus together now to see how we can minimize that as much as possible.”

Treville appeared to not be listening.  “What have I done?  If I instruct my men to go easy on them, then the citizens will gain the upper hand on the Musketeers, increasing the odds that more of my men will get injured or killed.”

“Then we use whatever force is necessary for them to comply.”

“Now you sound like the Cardinal.”

“Captain.  That may be the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I’m serious.  The man is proposing all-out annihilation if the citizens of the Court resist leaving.”

“And I suppose the King has offered nothing by way of where he would like to move them?”

“Of course not.  He simply no longer wishes for them to be in the Court.  And it does not matter, in any case.  No place exists that has an existing infrastructure that can house them.  And anyway, say what you will about the Court, it is their home.  They will resist any attempt at being removed.”

After an uncomfortable silence, Treville said, “The clock is ticking.  I need to regroup with Richelieu.”

Once Treville departed, Athos felt a bit dejected; he wasn’t sure, but he felt he let his Captain down.  He realized that Treville was not seeking a recitation of logistic options regarding the mission. 

He was looking for advice on a way out.  Or, at the very least, for Athos to confirm what his Captain knows deep in his heart:  that they cannot do this.

He expected him to remove his Lieutenant’s cap, for once, and speak, man to man, of the moral implications, and a manner in which they could effectively deny the King his wish without sending him into an unreasonable rage. 

Yes, he had let his Commander down.  

Yet he had no idea of how to make it right.

“A compromise, of sorts,” the Cardinal said as soon as Treville entered his rooms.

“I simply pointed out the cost of relocating all of the Court’s miscreants, when right now, at no cost to the Palace, the only persons on whom crime is committed are their own miserable selves.  Since a camp would need to be created, and infrastructure, however flimsy it might be, would need to be funded, I convinced him that the money would be better used for the fleet of ships he is hankering so badly for.”

“So- all is well?  No mission after all?”

“Not exactly.  The King still insists that the citizens occupying the homes that line the road where we passed returning from that mission be relocated.  He said that no one using that road should be subject to the exposure of such vermin.  And- he said it should be Musketeers- and Musketeers only- that should perform the removal.

“Treville.  It is now clear to me that this entire charade of a mission is less about the people of the Court than it is about punishing you for what was overheard.”

“And, by extension, my men.”

“It might interest you to know that the actual residences on that short stretch of road does not exceed eight or nine homes.  For one so adamant not to ‘relocate’ them, it appears you have two choices:  one, tell them that they need to relocate elsewhere- to where, it can be left up to them- friends, other family members' homes- because of future construction that requires their homes be demolished.  Together we can probably budget for the price of paying them for their homes by telling Louis the money is for weapons and the cost of constructing their ‘camp’.

“Two, do nothing and tell Louis it is done.  The danger there is if he insists on seeing the results.”

Treville was impressed by Richelieu’s proposals; really, he himself had no nose for politics.  He appreciated the help.

Now that the scope of the mission had been seriously reduced, Treville was confident that a peaceful solution could be brokered between them and the few citizens involved.  After another tense but generally civil conversation with the King, Treville and the Cardinal had successfully been granted by Louis a two-month time period where the selected families needed to relocate.  Not shared with the King was the funds he granted, ostensibly for weapons if the citizens revolted, would be paid to the families to help them relocate.  Divided amongst the eight families involved, it, in truth, was probably more than most of them would see in a lifetime.  And again, only eight families should be within a manageable amount for the Musketeers to handle if there was any discord amongst any of them.

Treville set to inform the Inseparables, including D’Artagnan, in on the latest developments of the mission.

“Let’s talk to Flea,” Porthos said, now cooler and amenable to the greatly diminished scope of the mission.  “She might be able to identify the residents that might be the most reasonable to the plan.  And maybe their influence will go a long way to get the others to agree.  That, along wit’ the money, might do the trick.”

No one yet had any way of knowing how loose lips were about to, once again, create disaster. 

Chapter Text

Flea was no fool.

“This is the King trying to rid himself of his more embarrassing subjects, isn’t it?”

Treville came alone with Porthos.  They met, as inconspicuously as possible, in one of Flea’s rooms.

Treville said, “In a word, yes.  Out of respect for you, I will not lie.  But when you consider what the original intention of the mission was, believe me when I say that this is the least impactful option we have.  But I also will not insult your intelligence by reminding you that the King’s insistence of accomplishing this task can only end badly for anyone who resists.”

Porthos was expecting some sort of response from his friend just then, but Flea, ever the pragmatist, said nothing.  It was as if she respected the Captain’s honesty; also, she recognized the truth of his words.  Hated as Louis was in the Court, the undeniable truth was that any attempt to resist what was being proposed here would ultimately not end well for the people of the Court.

Still…

“I will provide the names of some of the persons with whom I believe may react reasonably to our request, Treville, but know this:  I will not meet with them, or in any way try to convince them to agree.  It’s bad enough that I am offering up their names.  After all, I have no skin in the game here.  It is not my own home that I am being asked to vacate.   What right have I to…”

Porthos took Flea’s hand, but said nothing other than flashing her a wistful, empathetic smile. 

The full weight of the position they were putting Flea in was becoming blatantly clear.

“You understand, yes, how this must be their decision, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

But luck was not with them, as the paper-thin wall allowed every word of their conversation to be overheard by a recently new boarder living next door- a King-hating radical who lost his brother to the war, then had to watch his sister-in-law, when no pension was paid, resort to prostitution before she took her own life.  Claude Piers had every right to clutch onto his hatred and bitterness like a talisman. 

And here was the Captain of the Musketeers admitting freely how the King wants some of the residents of the Court gone.

He wants them gone, aye?  We will see about that.

Time to rally the troops.

As Treville and Porthos left Flea’s residence, they were accosted by two beggars on the street, who appeared to be infirm.

Treville, under the circumstances, was uncertain how to respond but instead took his lead from Porthos, who was waving them off.

Several minutes later, however, another beggar approached, and Treville witnessed Porthos engaging him in conversation, then providing a generous amount of coin.

Soon they had exited the Court.  Treville asked Porthos:  “So, some beggars are to be scorned, while others are worthy of compassion, and recompense?”

Porthos smiled at his Captain.  “No beggar is worthy of scorn, Captain.  ‘owever, those first two were obviously malingreux- they were fakin’ illness for some money.  Many pretend to be war veterans that had been disabled.

“That last poor fellow, ‘owever, was a farmer whose poor crops and cold winters made him unable to make a livin’ from his farm.  Many in the Court used to be farmers.”

“And- you could tell the difference.”

“Yes, after years of- yeah, I could tell the difference.”

Back at the Garrison, D’Artagnan and Athos, along with the rest of the Musketeers, had little else to do but wait until Porthos and Treville returned from the Court.

“I still do not understand- why do those people need to be relocated?”  D’Artagnan asked.

“They do not, but it is what the King wishes,” Athos replied, wearily.

“But why?  How does making them leave their homes serve France?”

Athos had to smile at that.  As if every whim Louis has to be- or is- for the good of France.

“The poor and destitute remind Louis that all is not well in the realm.  He prefers to not be reminded of that.

“Actually, I’m not certain if that is giving him too much credit.  That supposition assumes he has a guilty conscience over their plight, and doing nothing to help them.  In truth, it might be as superficial as Louis not liking to look at unpleasant things.”

“At first I thought he was offering them a kindness- relocating them somewhere nicer, where food and decent housing was available.  But when you, Porthos and Aramis explained it to me…”

D’Artagnan didn’t know how to continue after that, and simply shot his mentor a confused, pleading gaze.

Athos hated seeing the look on D’Artagnan’s face, and worse, at that moment he hated his King for putting it there.  The scales had fallen from the boy’s eyes, and no longer will the naïve but perceptive boy ever be able to think of his King as an ever-benevolent, wise man.

Athos had no words.  Therefore, all he could offer was, “let us practice our swordplay.”

He was rewarded by a bright smile.

Treville’s plan was simple:  meet the family that Flea had identified with just a few men, to remain as conspicuous as possible.  Treville simply wanted Athos, Porthos, and Aramis to accompany him.  Also:  no swords, just small pistols each, carefully concealed, so as to emphasize their lack of weaponry.   

“Let us have D’Artagnan accompany us as well,” Athos said.  “I believe he could use an education on such manners.”

“Very well,” Treville replied.  “But that will be it.  I do not wish to have a large party swarming down on them.”

As they made off, Athos looked over at Treville.  Somehow his regret at failing his Captain as a friend again came to the surface.

He could not yet know that offering for D’Artagnan to join them would make that regret pale in comparison. 

Chapter Text

Davide Barre and his wife Emelia were a simple, amiable couple who, after agreeing to the meeting Treville had arranged via missive, ostensibly to discuss an ‘opportunity’ for themselves and their neighbors, greeted Treville and the four Musketeers into their home warmly.

With Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D’Artagnan standing beside him, Treville began his preamble.  “The Palace has taken an interest in this piece of real estate, for purposes of traffic expansion and in the interests of expanding commerce.   Towards that end, a stipend has been offered provided you agree to relocate elsewhere.  This offer extends to everyone who lives on this street.”

“Wait.  We are being asked to- move?”  Davide asked.

“Yes,” Treville replied.  “As I have stated, this tract of land has caught the Palace’s attention for use-“

“The Palace?  You mean the King?”

Suddenly the mood of the room began to sour.

It was at that moment that Athos noticed movement outside.

Davide began to say, “Well, I do not believe I wish to move-“

Just then, the front door burst open, and heavily armed men began storming in.

Treville and his men shot up as Davide asked, “What is the meaning of this?!?!?”

But the flood of men surging into the home was too huge for the Musketeers to adequately react; plus, the men knew exactly who to target in the room, as they surrounded the Musketeers and Treville instantly.  This appeared to be a well-thought-out attack.     

“DEATH TO THE KING!” one of them finally shouted.

As Treville and his men fought to escape the clutches of the invaders, the man who had overheard the conversation with Flea, Porthos and Treville said “Davide!  You have been duped!  The King wishes to rid himself of us, and wants to raze the entire Court to the ground!   These men seek to kill us all!”

“THAT IS NOT TRUE!” Treville bellowed out as loud as he could.  The King simply-“

“I HEARD YOU WITH FLEA!  They wish to turn us out like rats!  We are not having it!”

Each Musketeer had already drawn their pistols as soon as the men began to storm in, but when Athos pointed his at one of the charging men, Treville yelled, “Athos, NO!” 

The man took that as an opportunity to signal his companions, who promptly lunged at each of the Musketeers and Treville, who struggled to free themselves from these angry men’s clutches.  There were just too many of them. 

Athos heard the man say “remember, we only need one,” and almost immediately afterwards, he witnessed D’Artagnan being grabbed from behind by two of the men.

As D’Artagnan battled against the two men as best he could, it was in vain, as two others quickly joined the two others, locking him a vise-like grip.

The man then put his pistol to D’Artagnan’s head and said “Leave now, or I shoot him through the head.”

D’Artagnan’s struggles lessened, as he was being held firm, by four men.

“This one is ours now, a guest of the Court.  He will be treated in accordance with the best Court hospitality.  The rest of you- depart now if you wish for him to live.”

Davide and his wife were rendered mute by all that had occurred.

The silence was broken as Athos, Porthos and Aramis looked to their Captain for the next step.

“We will leave, but know that we will return, with the full force of the Palace’s might.”

“And know that when you do, you will be greeted with the full force of the whole Court.  An entire neighborhood against the Palace’s men?  How do you figure that will go?”

Another tense silence.

“Let us go,” Treville signaled his men.

Aramis froze.  “But Captain-“

“We are leaving.  Now,” Treville barked.

As they were departing, Athos could not help but throw his protégé a final glance.  He was still being held, the pistol still firmly planted on his skull.

D’Artagnan had a resigned smile on his face as if to say, I will be fine.

Athos wished he shared his sentiment.

And with that, they left the Court.

The journey on their horses back to the Garrison was a swift one as all sailed as fast as they could, with no words exchanged.

Two of the men- Treville and Athos- were both lost in their thoughts. 

I should have had one of them hold sentry outside of the home, Treville mused, with regret.  I was too concerned about creating an inconspicuous scene where a soldier presence was concerned, and as a result, it all went to hell.  Then, in a sudden flash of remorse, he thought I should have offered myself up in exchange for D’Artagnan!  He is an innocent in all of this, while it is I that have fouled this affair up time and again…

If I continue to fail my men, my country, then perhaps I need to step aside…

And all Athos could think of was, I recommended D’Artagnan join us.  Had I not, he would be safe and sound right now.  Not a hostage at the mercy of an angry, volatile crowd, capable of anything.

His protégé was now dead center in the midst of a powder keg. 

And it was all his fault.

Chapter Text

Back in Treville’s office, chaos reigned amongst the Inseparables and their Captain.

Athos spoke first.  “Talk to Richelieu.  Get him to commit all of his Red Guard and together, we can storm in and rescue him.”

Treville:  “And on what grounds would the Cardinal be amenable to that?  I can hear him now- a captured Musketeer is the Musketeers’ problem, and no concern of his.”         

Aramis:  “The King can sanction it.  Under his orders-“

Treville:  “I am not so certain that the King should even hear of this just yet.  It was under his instruction that we find ourselves in this disaster as it is.  Any order from him will no doubt be a violent over-reaction on the entire Court, and now might just incite an entire civil war.  I need not tell you that it is not just the citizens of the Court who recently have taken issue with the dichotomy between the nobles and themselves.  If word were to spread of an order from the King to vanquish the citizens of the Court, dissent would spread like a wildfire throughout Paris.”

Porthos, trying his best to contain his rage:  “An’ the problem won’t get any better with Musketeers or Red Guard descendin’ on the Court as if we’re tryin’ ta kill ‘em all.”

Athos:  “It no longer matters who we kill; they’ve taken one of us hostage.  This is D’Artagnan we are talking about, Porthos!  Don’t you get that?!”

“I know it’s D’Artagnan we’re talkin’ about, Athos!  But you’re takin’ about attacking an entire community because ‘a some bad men.  An entire community!  Don’t ya get that?!  Oh yeah- Davide and Emilia really seemed to me to be bad people- let’s blow their brains out!”

Aramis:  “This is not helpful-“

Athos:  “War has been declared.  In all war, there is collateral damage.  In such a case I prefer it to be them and not D’Artagnan.  If you prefer to defend some wanton criminals over him, I suppose that is your right.”

“You son of a-“ Porthos lunged towards Athos.   Aramis moved in-between the two men as quickly as he could.

“Enough!  All of you!”  Treville yelled.

To his credit, his Captain’s voice halted Porthos.

“We are leagues away from a solution. I fear we may be at the brink of a skirmish that can easily escalate into a total disaster.

“Stay close and await my next instruction.”

“Captain, D’Artag-“

“Athos.  You are dismissed.”

Claude Piers had some of his friends take D’Artagnan to one of their homes, and await further orders.  Claude had personally taken great pleasure, immediately after the Inseparables and Treville left the Court, to beat D’Artagnan unconscious while his men held him up.

Davide and Emilia Barre, seeing this violence erupt in their own home, shouted for Claude to stop, to no avail.

“Who are you?  And how did you know to invade our home?”

“Never you mind.  I am your savior-the entire Court’s savior.”

Fortunately for D’Artagnan, the one whose home he ended up at was both sympathetic to the plight of Claude and his sibling, but also not as prone to violence as the occasionally unstable man.  While Gabriel Jehan and his wife Angelina may be acquaintances of Claude Piers, it would be a stretch to call them friends.

Neither Gabriel nor his wife were present at the home of Davide and Emilia Barre’s home when the ruckus broke out.  Nevertheless two of them that were indeed present, Mark and Jussac, then delivered D’Artagnan to their home, figuring it as conspicuous a place as any to hide the hostage.

When the two men paraded the barely conscious D’Artagnan inside, Gabriel asked, “Who on earth is this?”  Angelina looked at the poor young man with sympathy. 

“Our leverage,” one of the men, Mark, said.

“Leverage?”

The man explained everything to the couple- the subterfuge used by the Captain of the Musketeers, how Claude exposed them as liars, and how this hostage was their way of getting the liars to leave. 

“They- wish for those people to leave their homes?”  Angelina asked.

“Yes, and Claude isn’t having it. He declared all-out war against the King- the entire Court against the King,” Jussac, the other man said.

“WE aren’t having it,” Mark said.

“What?”

“You said Claude isn’t having it.  Are you on board, or not?”

“I- I am not sure.”

“Coward!  This is an affront to everyone in the Court!”

“The King will exact his revenge on all of us!  I am beginning to think this is insanity!

“I am out!”  And Jussac walked out.

“Jussac!”  Mark yelled to his back, to no avail.

With anger, Mark shoved D’Artagnan into a room and instructed Gabriel to keep him locked in, tell no one he was there, and await further instruction.

Gabriel looked the young man over.  His listless condition was no doubt due to a severe beating.

“How did he- what did you do to him?”

“We needed to teach him a lesson,” Mark sneered.

He then left to seek out Claude.

D’Artagnan, now just groggy from his beating, but compliant enough to not cause any fuss, was locked in the room by Gabriel.

“…and now I have a man hostage, due directly to my not keeping better watch over the surroundings, and entirely botching the negotiation.”

Treville chose to put up front a litany of his failures to Richelieu, perhaps as a way of heading off at the pass any opportunity the Cardinal himself may chastise him for his reckless handling of the entire matter.

“And what is it you seek from me, Treville?  Advice or absolution?  You seem a wise enough man to now realize that coddling such vermin would lead nowhere.  Do you have a question for me, or not?”

“The couple we met with were not vermin.”  

“No, but the band of criminals they were harboring to attack you certainly were.”

“They knew nothing of the attackers!”

“And do you stake the life of your man on that?”

Treville paused.

“If it is advice you seek, then do as the King asked, and raze that block to the ground, eliminating every living thing on it.  If your man is killed as recompense, that is the cost of doing business, and perhaps the punishment you will need to live with for your folly in trusting these- people in the first place.”

Treville left, his head swimming.  For once, he recognized the advantages of taking the easy way out- for following orders is always a good excuse for one’s behavior, especially when morally questionable.

How easy it must be to have a clear conscience about these things.

Or none at all.

He was still as lost as ever.

Chapter Text

Once Claude Piers was told of Jussac’s traitorous words by Mark, Claude ordered him to be sent to him.

Once he was hauled in front of Claude, on an empty side street near his home, Claude asked him, “So you doubt our mission?”

“I think it is- misguided!  We simply cannot go up against the King!  We will be slaughtered!”

Claude laughed.  “Oh, you need not worry about such things, Jussac.”

“And why is that?”  Jussac asked, nervously.

“Because after now, you will have no further concerns, ever.  Your life ends here.”  And then Claude took out a musket, and shot Jussac through the heart.  He fell, dead before he hit the ground.

Claude then took out a knife.  He had an idea.

“Are you hungry?”  Angelina could not help to ask D’Artagnan.

D’Artagnan, not bound in any way as he was occupying a room where, when locked, he had no way of escaping, simply smiled weakly and said, “No, I am fine.”

“Liar,” Angelina laughed. “I had a son that was not much younger than you, and at his age he was always ravenous.  I will bring you something now.

”Does that hurt?” she asked, touching his cheek, which sported an angry bruise.

D’Artagnan’s hiss was her answer.

“Another stupid question,” Angelina said, and he smiled.

The next day, Treville was summoned to the Palace.  Earlier in the day, he and his men had caucused together again to formulate some sort of plan that might not cause an escalation of the civil unrest already percolating within the realm.

It was another contentious meeting, accomplishing nothing- again.  

The tension in the Palace could be cut with a knife.

Once in front of the King, with Richelieu present, the King held up a small box.  In his other hand was a missive.

“Take a look at this wonderful gift that I just received via messenger, Treville.”  Louis’ tone conveyed no pleasure in the receipt of such a gift.

Treville took the small box, looked inside, and almost gagged.

It was a human ear.  It was evident that it was brutally cut off with a sharp knife, the ear’s edges violently severed from its victim.  The box was moist to the touch, soaked in blood.

While recovering, Treville managed to shoot a glance over at the Cardinal.  Richelieu’s countenance betrayed a grim empathy, but he said nothing. 

“Your majesty-“

“The letter says ‘Dear King.  You do not listen to your subjects.  The people of the Court feel you could use an additional ear.  Here it is, courtesy of your own Musketeer.  Leave us be unless you would like more of him parceled to you.’

“It is signed ‘The good people of the Court’.  What is the meaning of this!?!?”

Treville had to take a moment.  He then felt that he had no other course than to tell the King and Treville about their preliminary meeting with some of the Court’s citizens, and how it went south.

The King screamed, “You will bomb them to pieces, do you understand?  Each and every one of them!  I want every one of those homes razed to the ground!”

“But one of our own men would be killed as well, your majesty!  If you can wait just a few more days, I am trying to formulate a plan-“

“THEY MOCK ME!  NO PLANS!  Other than bombing them back to the stone age, do you understand!??  DISMISSED!!!”

The Captain noticed that, unlike earlier discussions regarding the mission, the Cardinal would speak up and attempt, as he had done, to talk some sense into Louis.

But now, Richelieu’s silence spoke volumes.  He was truly alone in sorting this out.

“Yes, your Majesty.”  Treville almost ran out of the Palace.

Now what?  And how do I tell Aramis, Porthos, and Athos of D’Artagnan’s fate?

For the first time in his long, storied career, he felt as if the entire world was falling in on him.

But first, he had to deliver the most difficult news to the Inseparables about their youngest.

 After assembling Athos Aramis, and Porthos, Treville said, “I need the three of you to sit down.”

“Oh, this sounds as if it’s going to be lovely news,” Aramis tried to joke.

But they all sat.

‘It’s obvious your meeting with the King did not go well.  So now what?”  Athos asked.

“He received a letter from the Court.  And a parcel.”

“A parcel?  Containing what?”  Porthos asked.

Treville hated how his voice broke when he replied, “An ear.  A- human ear.

“The letter stated how the King does not listen, so the ear should help him in doing so. 

“They said it was- D’Artagnan’s ear.”

Athos jumped from his seat.  Porthos gasped.  Aramis choked out “No.  No.  NO.”

Treville allowed them all a moment, then continued.

“The King wishes to blow them all to Kingdom Come...”

“We should, and right now.  After we rescue D’Artagnan.  What is left of him before they continue- continue to defile him…”  Athos could not catch his breath.  But he threw Porthos an accusatory glance.

“Ya got somethin’ to say to me?”  Porthos glared.

Athos went nose to nose with Porthos.  “We go in, muskets loaded and cocked, ready to lay waste to anyone who stands in our way of finding our brother.” 

Aramis gently but successfully pulled the two men apart from one another.

“’Old on ‘old on a minute- ya mean the ones who kidnapped ‘im, right?  No one else may be involved…”

Aramis:  “And how are we to find them?  It didn’t seem as of Davide or Emilia knew who they were.  They were intruders.”

“Perhaps Flea might know,” Porthos offered.

“Flea has done enough harm for one day, no?  Her plan on discussing this calmly with the Barres went so well,” Athos replied, furious.

“Useful comments only, please,” Aramis said, not missing the death glare that Porthos shot Athos.

The Captain said, “First things first.  This disaster is purely of my making.  I will offer myself up as an exchange for D’Artagnan.  They might go for it, as it was I who forwarded the preposterous proposal in the first place.”

“Captain.  I hardly think-“ Aramis said.

Treville interrupted by saying “It is done.  I will go there first light.”

‘We’re comin’ too,” Porthos said.

“And what then?  Afterwards, what do we tell the King?  Are we to attack afterwards?”  Athos asked his Captain.

“One step at a time,” Treville replied.

As he dismissed his men, Porthos began to go off on Athos as they left his office.

Athos began to respond sharply when Treville yelled “GENTLEMEN!!  D’Artagnan needs a unified front if we have any chance of successfully returning him to us.  We owe it to him to work together and not fight amongst one another.  Agreed?”

After a pause and a deep breath, both men said, “Yes, Captain.”

Once alone, Treville sat at his desk and buried his face into both hands.

Flea would be a good place to start in finding D’Artagnan; her, and perhaps the Barres might offer a few leads regarding D’Artagnan’s location.

What if he cannot be found?  Is dead?

What if I defy the King and not exact revenge on the people of the Court?   Will he put my Musketeers in the impossible position of attacking against my own order to stand down?

In either case, would he be able to live with the inevitable casualties realized on either side?

STOP.

He realized that trying to solve for every impending scenario would overwhelm him more than he already was.

He was right- one step at a time.

D’Artagnan is, for the moment, priority one.   

Chapter Text

“Look, I am- sorry for all of this.  I believe this an over-reaction on our part; nevertheless I do not understand why the King wishes to get rid of us?”  Angelina Jehan asked her hostage.  The more time she had spent with the young man, the more she could not help but like and admire his courage and politeness.  If the King did indeed hold the people of the Court in low esteem as was thought, apparently not all of the men protecting him seemed to have the same aversion to them. 

“I cannot say that I understand or agree with the King, madame; however perhaps further violence can be avoided if you would allow me my freedom?”  D’Artagnan asked meekly.

Angelina’s hesitation was taken by D’Artagnan as a promising sign, until suddenly the locked door opened behind them.

Thankfully, it was just Angelia’s husband Gabriel. 

Angelina rushed to her husband.  “Sweetheart, can’t we release him?  This will not end well!  And he is just a good, sweet boy…”

Gabriel shot her wife a tired smile.  “It is not that simple…”

He then said to his wife, “He reminds me of Jacques.”

“Jacques?”  D’Artagnan asked.

“Our son,” Angelina answered.  “He- died six years ago in the Battle of Blavet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We still do not know what for,” Gabriel said, sourly.  “No word of condolences from the King for his sacrifice, no…”  Gabriel nearly choked on his anger.  He shot D’Artagnan a murderous stare.

“Angelina, come.”  Gabriel grabbed his wife by the hand, and slammed the door violently, leaving the boy locked up and alone once more.

D’Artagnan had launched himself towards the door before it had slammed shut, but had been too late.    He sighed in despair at a small window of opportunity suddenly closing on him.

He wished there was, at least, some way to get word to his brothers that he was safe and, for the most part, sound.  

The following morning, the men all met in Treville’s office, ready to go.

“So Porthos- you truly believe that Flea would have obtained information as to the kidnapper’s whereabouts?”  Athos asked humbly, remembering all too well of the insulting tone with which he spoke of Flea just the previous day.

“She gets wind of all the main events of the Court, so I suspect she would be as good a place as any to start,” Porthos replied, managing to not look his brother in the eye.

“We must get him back.  Now.  I- cannot countenance another delivery.  If he is even still alive…”

“Not helpful, Athos!”  Porthos spat, too worried about the boy himself to hear it.

Aramis was nodding his head in the negative.  “I still do not see how this will work- and what is gained by you sacrificing yourself?  As it stands now with Louis, he may not even care that you are doing this!,” he asked his Captain.

“Unless you have any better ideas, Aramis, I suggest we get going.  D’Artagnan is not going to simply waltz into the Garrison on his own,” Athos said.

Treville shot his men a broad smile.

“Or perhaps he will,” the Captain said.

As he was the only one facing the door, he was the first to see D’Artagnan, seemingly whole, standing in the doorway.

The three Inseparables turned.

Aramis and Porthos froze in shock for a split second longer than Athos, who by virtue of that fact reached the boy first.

He looked at his protégé, and could not conceal the joy and relief at looking into those two deep brown orbs.

Then, an odd exclamation:  “You have two ears!”

Which was ironic, as D’Artagnan was now looking at his mentor as if he had two heads.

“Um, doesn’t everyone?”  was his reply.

His next shock was when Athos grabbed him in a tight, tight embrace.

D’Artagnan willingly returned the hug.

Then it was Aramis’ and Porthos’ turn.

“What’s this?” Athos then thought to ask, as he manhandled D’Artagnan’s face.  D’Artagnan, despite still having both ears, was still sporting some impressive bruises.

D’Artagnan smacked his mentor’s hands away, merely saying, “They had a little fun with me at the beginning, but it is nothing, Athos, truly.”

As he was still being smothered by Porthos, Treville finally asked, “D’Artagnan.  How?”

“They simply let me go, Captain.  The people that held me.”

“Ah.  Could it have been the incessant yapping?  You insisting on standing on your head for minutes at a time?  Or you simply being- well, you?  Enlighten us, D’Artagnan, what ridiculously annoying behavior of yours finally broke them and made them decide to give you up voluntarily?”

D’Artagnan’s shy smile was followed by him replying, “The wife- Angelia- beyond my room I heard a heated exchange between her and her husband Gabriel.  The next thing I knew, the door opened and they set me free.  While Angelia seemed pleased, Gabriel seemed- conflicted.  I simply thanked them profusely and took my leave quickly lest he change his mind.”

Aramis:  “Letting a miscreant like you go loose.  Captain, we are clearly dealing with irrational, insane people here.”

“All joking aside, they are simply a nice married couple.  But I have the names of the actual kidnappers, so it should not be difficult to track them down.”

As Aramis took over the inspection of D’Artagnan, Treville said, “D’Artagnan.  I am sorry that the situation deteriorated to the point where this happened to you.  You should get something to eat, or have a bath if you wish, and get some rest.”

“Actually, I had a wonderful breakfast this morning, courtesy of Gabriel and Angelina.  Just before they decided to release me, they fed me delicious eggs, toast, gravy and milk.”

Now they were smiling; Porthos complained, “WE haven’t ‘ad breakfast yet!”

D’Artagnan, suddenly serious, shook his head and said, “Oh, Porthos, you should never skip breakfast; it’s the most important meal of the day!”

Aramis snorted, then recovered long enough to say, “Well, there was this thing where we felt we needed to rescue you.”

Dartagnan continued on.  “And actually, they ran a bath for me.  I had my own chamberpot. And the bed I slept in was even more comfortable than my own here in the Gar-“

Treville threw him a withering look.

“-But I also love my bed here as well, Captain.”

“Anything else?”  Aramis asked.  “We can turn your bed down each night, if you wish; and Treville would be happy to draw you a warm bath daily, if that suits you.”

D’Artagnan smiled, then got serious.  “Captain.  The man who kidnapped me- truly, the one who instigated all of this- his name is Claude Piers.  He was the mastermind in our attack at the Barre residence.  He, among all others, is the one who needs to be brought to justice.”

“And we will do so, posthaste, D’Artagnan.  Fret not- we will get justice for this, and your kidnapping,” Treville replied.

“It’s not that, Captain,” D’Artagnan said.  “Once it is discovered that I was set free, I fear that Claude will seek recrimination on Gabriel and Angelina Jehan.  They were good to me; they are good people.”

“Oh, yes, as kidnappers go, they are model citizens,” Athos replied, sarcastically and angrily.

“They did not kidnap me!   And their situation-“

“But they harbored you, no?  Kept you against your will?”

“Yeah, but the food- the bath- the cozy bed- sounds like a wonderful holiday, if ya ask me!”  Porthos laughed.

“Regardless.  They held you against your will while we were all here thinking the worst.  They should be brought up on charges of-“ 

“Stop it, Athos.  D’Artagnan, we will seek out this Claude Piers right now.”

Porthos said, “Wait!  I haven’t had breakfast yet!!!”

D’artagnan:  “Why not?  Porthos, you should never-“

“Ah, shut up, you!” 

Chapter Text

After a lead from Flea that paid off, Claude Piers was captured by the Musketeers.  His fate would have to wait for the King to weigh in.

While the others assisting Claude in the ambush at the Barre home were not apprehended, for now Claude was identified as the ringleader, and any others’ involvement, and punishment, would need to wait.     

This was far from over, as now that the King had knowledge of everything that had occurred, they needed to hear next steps and obtain instruction and guidance from Louis.  This could still all lead to disaster for the Palace, and France.

So when the Cardinal summoned him to his offices, Treville hardly knew what to expect.

“So D’Artagnan has been returned, safe and sound, I hear.” 

Treville didn’t even bother asking how Richelieu had found out about his newest Musketeer being freed.  He knew the Cardinal’s reach- and spies- ran deep.

“Yes, they freed him.”

“With both ears intact.”

“Yes.  We may never know who the unfortunate was who was the owner of that ear.  But D’Artagnan is free, and Claude Piers, the main conspirator, is captured.   I need to alert Louis as to the latest.”

“Don’t bother.  It is over.”

“What is over?”

“This whole Court affair.  I had a discussion with the King.”

“And?”  Treville asked, hopefully.

“I reported the news of the safe return, unharmed, of his Musketeer, then deployed the same tactic on him that has worked well for me in the past:  reminding him on his reliance on my council to avoid complete ruin.  Mainly, I bluntly laid out how financially tenuous a chance it is for France to assemble an armada; difficult at best, but impossible were we to also fight- and fund- a front against the Court.     

“I knew that once his rage dissipated, he could be reasoned with.  I have a singular talent for instilling fear in his heart when it suits me,” he said, with a self-satisfied smirk.  “Now that this- Claude whomever- is in custody, I am certain the King will order his execution.  While we will need to brace for whatever reaction from the Court might be upon his death, we can easily spin that the capture and torture of a Musketeer is a grievous offence worth the punishment.  So my advice to you is to let it drop- keep your distance from Louis just a bit longer, and all will be well.”    

While he wasn’t so certain that Claude’s execution- and any resulting violent reaction from the Court- could be contained as easily as the Cardinal was positing, nevertheless Treville felt a weight lifted from his shoulders that had been there since this entire affair had started.

“I’m not certain that ‘torture’ is a truthful description of what D’Artagnan endured,” Treville finally said.

Richelieu threw Treville a look as if he were a small child that had just made the most preposterous of statements.  “With all due respect, Treville, leave it to me to determine- and put forth- what is the truth, and what is not.”

Touche, Treville thought, feeling somewhat like a heel for feeling grateful to exploit one of the Cardinal’s more morally objectionable talents.  “I suppose I owe you many thanks.”

“More than you can imagine.  Do you know of a Pierre Gardner?”

Treville thought the name familiar.  But he could not quite place it.

“It sounds familiar.  How do you-“

“It is the eavesdropper who ratted you out to the King, calling him childish.”

“And how could you possibly have discovered that out?”  Treville asked.

“I looked at the list of visitors to the Palace that day.  The only name that could have possibly ratted you out was Pierre’s, as I recognized, and could vouch for, everyone else on the list.  His name also reappears on the day that Louis called on you and me to inform us that he was told of your treasonous words, so it must be him.  Think.  I do not recognize the name.  And he had the presence of mind to rat you out, not me; I was also a little, shall we say, disrespectful to the King in that conversation as well, if I recall.  And since you do recognize the name, I suggest that you dig deeper into your memory to conjure him up.”

Suddenly Treville’s face lit up.

“Pierre- he is a nobleman of some renown.  His son Gerald- he- washed out as a Musketeer recruit.  Nice enough young man, who took his rejection with humor and dignity.

“However, the next day after his dismissal, Pierre showed up in my office, angry as hell, making a scene and demanding an explanation as to how I could dismiss his son.  He had a dozen ways to Sunday as to how I would come to regret my decision.”

“Well, there you have it.  We now know which way he chose to use against you.”

“I hardly know what to do next.”

Richelieu sighed.  “My last piece of advice for you, Treville, as I grow weary of saving your sorry soul today.  Let this drop as well.  This Pierre got his satisfaction, however unwarranted; and as the King’s anger has cooled, in time I believe you will be back in his good graces.”

Treville took a breath, then paused and said, “While I suspect this will be quid pro quo in the near future, nevertheless I thank you.”

Richelieu smiled slightly and said, “Count on it.”

Treville took his leave of the Cardinal.  However Richelieu thought to collect his favors from Treville in the future, the Captain chose to table those concerns for another day.

He would, for now, take the win and move on. 

It was the Bastille- not death- for Claude Piers, and as no other participant in the ambush at the Barre home was pursued, the hope was that the uneasy peace between the Palace and the Court would continue.

“Porthos.  A word?”  Athos called out.

Once he caught up with him, Athos said, “I owe you an apology for my behavior these last few days.  I was extremely callous and dismissive of the Court citizens; and once D’Artagnan was captured, my fear for the boy’s welfare exacerbated my behavior.  I hope you can forgive me my ill-conceived words.”

“It was bad enough that you were ready to indiscriminately attack ‘em, but what really got my goat was you implyin’ that you care about ‘em more than me!”

“That also was unforgivable.  As it was, your cooler head spoke more reason than mine, and for that I am grateful.”

Porthos warmed at that.

“So- we are good?”  Athos asked.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Athos visited Treville in his office.  His feeling of failing his Captain when he needed a sympathetic ear still resonated.

“All’s well that ends well, yes?” he offered. 

Treville’s mirthless smirk said it all.  “It is an affair that I would do well to soon forget.”

“Towards that end, if you would permit it, perhaps a drink tonight- at a tavern not typically frequented by too many other Musketeers- might be in order?  Just the two of us.”

The Captain’s smile emanated warmth and gratitude.

But his response surprised Athos.

“Another time, perhaps.”

Taken aback ever so slightly, Athos recovered fast enough to say, “The invitation is always open.”

“Thank you, Athos.  You are dismissed.”

As Athos descended the Garrison stairs, he felt his admiration of his Captain migrate further north.  For Treville had just decided that maintaining the leader-and-subordinate relationship between them was more important than any personal wish that he may have felt the need for.  He had put his role as Captain over any desire he may have had to confide in a friend.

As Athos was learning, the greater a man’s integrity, the lonelier it could be at the top.   

“Now why in tha world would ya want ta tell him that?”  Porthos asked, exasperated.

“He needs to know.  Not telling him seems an act of cowardice,” Atos replied to his brother.

“As if it would make any difference.  Athos, he is fine,” Aramis reminded him.  “However, if it is absolution you seek, I am certain he will provide it.”

“It is not forgiveness that I seek.”

“What then?”  Aramis asked.

At this point, they were approaching the Garrison table, with a scene that was becoming more and more commonplace since D’Artagnan returned with his injuries and bruises evident about his face- Serge had, yet again, bought him another bowl of stew at the Garrison table.  After he placed it in front of the Gascon, he placed a tender kiss at the top of the boy’s dome.

Serge, in fact, had been one of the first (after Porthos and Aramis) to take a particular shine to the boy soon after his arrival at the Garrison, and had quickly adopted a strong paternal role with D’Artagnan. 

Then Serge took his leave of D’Artagnan, and as he passed the Inseparables, the cook pointed back to the Garrison table and yelled, “You lot take better care of that boy!  Or you will answer to me!”

Serge then walked off, not even waiting for a response of any kind.

“The ‘ell?” Porthos said.

“Well, my brothers, I believe we have all just been scolded,” Aramis said.

As they reached D’Artagnan, Porthos said, ““An’ the coddling goes on.  Maybe I should get myself kidnapped; looks like it gets you fed a lot!”

D’Artagnan threw his big brother a huge smile while gulping down a big spoonful of stew.

His mood changed when he caught a glimpse of Athos’ grave countenance.

 “D’Artagnan,” his mentor said, “I have to tell you something.”

“Oh no.  What has happened?”  His concern was mixed with confusion as he also saw Aramis rolling his eyes in amusement.

“Am I about to get teased about something?”  D’Artagnan asked.

“No.  D’Artagnan, the Captain had initially requested that only Porthos, Aramis, and me accompany him to the Barre household to discuss the plan with the couple.  It is I that suggested that you come along as well, for the experience of learning how to negotiate.”

D’Artagnan just sat there, taking another spoonful of stew, waiting for Athos to continue.

When he did not, D’Artagnan asked, “And?”

“And if I had not done so, you would have been spared being-“

“The recipient of a nice bath, a comfortable bed, good food...”

“A severe beating, Porthos!  You can still see his bruises, are you blind?”

During Porthos’ and Athos’ exchange, D’Artagnan threw Aramis a smile, waving his hands about as if to say, what’s wrong with him?

Aramis shook his head as if to respond, so many things…

“Athos.  There is no need to apologize.  You had no way of knowing that I would be taken.  And to be honest, it was I that was not alert enough to keep myself from being captured.”

Porthos’ eyes went wide.  “Oh right!  It was your fault you got caught!  See, Athos!  Ya should be yellin’ at ‘em for getting ‘imself captured!”

“Alright, enough.  Athos, as you can see, you have been absolved of any wrongdoing, hmmm? Now can we just move on and be thankful that this entire affair is behind us?”  Aramis suggested.  “Now D’Artagnan, after you finish your meal, I would like to tend to your bruises again, if you do not mind.”

D’Artagnan then got a little peevish.  “Um, if you do not mind, Aramis, I would prefer my bruises heal on their own, if that is alright with you?”

“But if I can apply some more salve, they will disappear sooner.  Do you not wish to-?  Oh my God.”

“What?”  Porthos asked, confused.

D’Artagnan gazed in embarrassment.

“You- would like to elicit some more sympathy out of Serge, in order to obtain extra grub out of him for a bit longer, hmmm?”  Aramis accused his younger brother.

D’Artagnan’s pathetic nods of ‘no’ were rendered null and void by the guilt on the young man’s face, confirming Aramis’ prognosis of the situation.

D’Artagnan finally confessed, “It’s just that, his stew is so good…”