All for One, One for All
The throne room, and a dead end. With one well timed attack, the palace was invaded and the king would soon be dead. Alone and pursued by seven mercenaries, it seemed that France would soon have a new monarch. They attacked in large numbers, overwhelming the red guard and swarming the palace. With the musketeers out on practice maneuvers there would be no rescue, and even the greatest swordsmen could not stand against seven opponents.
The king stood his ground; if he were to die then he would not be felled easily. He drew his rapier, prepared to give it the battle experience that royal blades rarely ever see. The mercenaries broke into the throne room to find the king standing at the ready. Two of them stepped forward as the rest settled in to watch the historic slaying of the king of France. He braced himself, ready to meet his challengers and the embrace of death when it came.
As the mercenaries came within striking range and readied their blades they were suddenly dropped to the ground, struck down in the flurry of a blue cloak. The cloak's wearer rose from his kill, the cloak was a familiar blue but the figure was shrouded by a hood. As the hooded man straightened he turned about and drew a pair of pistols, training them on the mercenaries and felling another two before they could react to the new threat.
The remaining three mercenaries charged, rage fueling their attack. The hooded man let the pistols fall to the floor as he drew his blades to meet his attackers. Clangs and clashes filled the hall as the combatants performed their deadly dance. With spins and flurries the hooded man matched his opponents blow for blow, adding each of them to the afternoon's body count one by one. With the threat neutralized the hooded man sheathed his blades and moved toward the window, opening it and looking out into the royal gardens.
His savior seemed on the verge of leaving, and the king was not one to ignore his debts, "Good sir, I would not have my savior leave before I have the chance to recognize him properly. Come, certainly a man who wears the cloak of a musketeer will accept his king's gratitude. Unless he wears that cloak in vain…"
The hooded man seemed struck by the notion that he would wear the blue cloak as a testament against the king's guards. He turned back to the king, stepping away from the window. He drew a pendant from under his collar and held it out to be seen, "I once swore an oath to defend the king and to protect the weak and fight for justice. I have since left your majesty's service but will not turn my back on an oath I have made, not unless your majesty is the one who I must protect the weak from or fight against in the name of justice. This pendant is testament to that oath, and it will not be forgotten." The man tucked the emblem of the musketeers back under his collar and returned to the window, stepping to the edge.
"Musketeer, all for one…" The king started the well known motto.
He was answered by the hooded man, "… and one for all. You have guests, your majesty."
The king turned as four musketeers ran into the throne room with pistols and swords drawn and ready. "Your majesty, we came as quickly as we could but-," the musketeer's voice trailed off as he noticed the bodies strewn about the floor. "Is this your handiwork, my liege?"
"No, Athos, this was the work of this man…" The king gestured to the window to find only the curtains blowing in the breeze. "It seems my savior would rather remain anonymous."
Another musketeer stepped to the window and looked out, "Well, I dare say that France is in his debt and the musketeers owe him our gratitude for being where we could not." The men relaxed and left to join up with the others to finish clearing the palace of mercenaries.