Author's Note: I knew when I saw the challenge topic this month that I wanted to participate. However, it turned out to be a far busier month than I anticipated, so this was written late. A huge thanks to my beta, Mountain Cat, who proofed this in record time. I do apologize for a few periods of missing time, but editsw were necessary to stay in the size limit of the challenge.
Fuming, Treville stomped out of his office onto the porch overlooking the yard when he heard the sound of hoofbeats coming through the gate. He fixed his glare on the four musketeers as they rode through the archway then drew their mounts to a halt in the courtyard. Before the toes of their boots could hit the ground, he bellowed, "You four. My office. Now!"
Even though it wasn't unexpected, the four musketeers exchanged uneasy glances before Athos, who was still seated on Roger, looked up and addressed their Captain. "Sir, I don't think you..."
But an irate Treville cut him off. "Athos, I'm not engaging in a debate with you. Up here now!" With that, the Captain stomped into his office, slamming the door behind him.
Once more the four exchanged apprehensive glances.
"I'm guessing he didn't get a very good look at us," Aramis surmised correctly.
"Ya think?" Porthos remarked sarcastically as he looked at his pants.
"Do you think we should make ourselves presentable first?" d'Artagnan questioned as he examined his own clothes.
Swinging off his horse and handing the reins to the stable boy, Athos decisively replied, "The Captain said now and now it shall be." With that, he headed toward the stairs and began climbing them. The other three shrugged and trailed after their Lieutenant. Once they reached the porch the four made their way to Treville's office door where they came to a halt.
"Should we knock? The door is shut," Aramis noted as they stared at the closed, heavy wooden door.
"It is shut," d'Artagnan confirmed needlessly. In a hesitant voice he suggested, "Perhaps we should knock."
Porthos grimaced at his friends with disbelief. "Knock? The Captain told us to come to his office. He's expecting us. Why the hell should we knock?"
Aramis gave one of his little shrugs. "I like to be polite."
Porthos opened his mouth to retort but Athos' actions forestalled him. Athos was tired, wanted a drink, and didn't feel like listening to a prolonged debate on whether or not to knock. Making a command decision, he knocked, then immediately opened the door and walked into Treville's office. Once inside, he scanned the area, spotting Treville sitting behind his desk. Moving across the room, he stopped, standing at attention in front of the Captain's desk. The other three musketeers fell into line next to him to wait upon their Captain's pleasure.
Four sets of eyes fixed themselves on the wall behind the desk and didn't blink when the Captain rose from behind his desk exclaiming, "What the hell happened to you?"
In a voice that was drier than he was, Athos quietly stated, "It rained."
Treville sighed, bowing his head for a moment, almost as if in prayer. He already recognized how this was going to go and he knew by the time it was over he'd have a raging headache.
"Athos, am I going to have to drag this tale from you one sentence at a time?" he asked with exasperation. "I ask again, what happened?"
Promptly, the Lieutenant answered, "We slipped." Then, realizing he had once again uttered one brief sentence, he supplemented with, "In the mud."
As if to confirm the statement, a patch of dried mud slid off of d'Artagnan's jacket and plopped onto the floor. All the eyes in the room were immediately drawn to the patch of dirt now residing on the Captain's once clean, wooden floor. D'Artagnan quietly murmured, "Sorry, Captain."
Treville lifted his blue eyes to track the muddy foot prints which were clearly visible from the door of his office to where the Inseparables stood. "My floor," he exhaled sadly as he shook his head.
In that infuriating, logical tone Athos used when he knew he was right, he said, "I tried to suggest we have this conversation…outside."
Glaring at his second for all he was worth, Treville shook his head again, before moving to lean against his desk. His eyes raked each one of them up and down, observing the inordinate amount of mud covering their bodies. "My Uncle was a pig farmer. Even after his pigs wallowed in the mud, I swear they were cleaner than you four."
"As you know, it has been raining for quite some time. The ground is saturated and very muddy. I don't believe there is a dry spot to be found anywhere on the streets of Paris." Athos actually appeared pleased with himself that he had uttered such a long, informative statement.
"Yes, it has been raining of late," Treville concurred. "However, I still don't think that explains your condition or the fact that a messenger from the King was here with a letter and a very curt message requesting my presence at the Palace, after his Majesty has 'recovered'. It makes me wonder what the King and, since the messenger was a member of the Red Guard, I'm guessing the Cardinal, have to recover from." Treville stopped talking and peered expectantly at his four best, and most vexing, musketeers.
"So, you haven't actually spoken with the King or Cardinal yet?" Aramis asked with a mixture of curiosity and delight.
"What makes ya think this has to do with us?" Porthos demanded a bit brusquely.
Treville gave the streetfighter a withering look before drily stating, "It always seems to be about you four."
Porthos and Aramis glanced at each other and shrugged. Their Captain's statement was accurate.
"Fair enough," Aramis agreed, "Though there is a small chance this has nothing to do with us at all."
"And how much would you like to bet on that small chance?" Treville inquired, quirking an eyebrow at his men. When all four of them looked distinctly uncomfortable, he added, "As I thought."
D'Artagnan, who'd been quiet up to this point exclaimed, "But it wasn't our fault. Not really. We did what we were ordered."
"So, someone ordered you to get covered from head to toe in mud?" Treville asked skeptically as he shifted his focus to the newest musketeer. Since he was not as experienced as his brethren, the Captain found the Gascon could often be exploited as the weakest link.
Shifting his weight in discomfort, d'Artagnan replied, "Ah, not exactly, but it was a by-product of the order."
"I see," Treville uttered in a tone that clearly indicated he did not. "And by chance, did anyone else end up in the same muddy condition as you?"
Another uneasy stillness settled over the room as the four musketeers did their best not to squirm under the intense, probing gaze of their Captain. Finally, Athos, as the leader of the pack, broke the silence. "Others did get…inconvenienced."
"How inconvenienced?"
Though his tone was mostly dry, there as an undercurrent of amusement in Athos' reply. "Apparently enough to demand your presence at the Palace."
With a grunt that indicated exactly how he felt about this situation, Treville pushed off the desk, walked behind it and dropped into his chair with yet another sigh. He held up a parchment, with a broken seal that indicated it was from the King. "Suppose we start at the very beginning and you tell me all about this inconvenience."
