AN: Thought I would aim for a longer story this time! Thanks in advance for reading. Will aim for regular updates. Enjoy!
Treville stood on the balcony, enjoying the late summer sunshine that bathed his little corner of the garrison, watching the hustle and bustle of the men moving below. It was mid-afternoon, men were returning from their day duties, others leaving for afternoon shifts or patrols. He watched some of the newest recruits attempting to look favourable as they fought each other with swords. They all had some good moves, but would all require some careful tutelage to bring them up to standard he expected of them. Mathis, the seasoned musketeer currently providing tutoring could be heard even above the general noise giving his opinion on some of the less audacious moves.
A lone figure crossing the floor caught his attention; d'Artagnan, arms full of a straw bale heading towards the stables. Even in a garrison full of men, d'Artagnan seemed to cut a lonely figure. Perhaps because usually three other men, The Inseparables would often be found close by. Since the young Gascon's dramatic arrival almost a year ago, it seemed to Treville a strange sight to see him alone. Of course, they all had separate duties and carried out solo missions, or missions with other musketeers but the men seemed to gravitate towards each other. Thinking back over the past few weeks, however, Treville was hard pressed to recall seeing all four of them together. He thought back to yesterday evening, the sight of d'Artagnan sat alone at what had long been considered The Inseparables table, slowly eating his stew without apparent enjoyment, and trying too hard not to watch the gate.
Treville couldn't fault d'Artagnan's work. He was at the garrison at first light, was often the last to leave, and often needed to be reminded to eat. He did anything Treville ordered, and often quicker and with less whining than anyone else before carrying out other duties that certainly did not fall within his remit.
D'Artagnan had always been a hard worker though, and Treville had come to expect nothing else. From the first few weeks of joining as a recruit, d'Artagnan had worked all hours. At first Treville, and most of the other musketeers had assumed it to be the result of an overeager recruit and waited for it to naturally settled as d'Artagnan became accustomed to the ways of the musketeers.
It hadn't, though. Treville had come to expect d'Artagnan to be working before he stepped out onto the balcony at first light. He had watched d'Artagnan train long and hard, putting everything into learning all the ways of the musketeer. D'Artagnan was a natural with the horses, and the horse master had long used his experience to help train the young colts in his meagre spare time. Treville had come to expect when he started sending d'Artagnan out on short solo missions for them to be carried out quickly and efficiently and he was certainly not complaining about the hard work.
But before, d'Artagnan had had three other men to remind him about the importance of other things too. Treville had seen one or other of them physically pull d'Artagnan to sit and eat with them or drag him away in the late evening to some tavern or other. They had all played their part in training d'Artagnan, especially Athos who had taken great interest in improving d'Artagnan's already impressive sword skills, but they had all had a hand in reminding d'Artagnan to have fun also.
Whilst d'Artagnan was working just as hard now, there was no one to remind him to stop a while. To eat and to rest and to have down time. Treville would not have been a good captain if he hadn't noticed what had been going on but it frustrated him that he didn't know why. The three other men had been doing their duties, and he had no cause to complain on that front, but it was with a distraction that wasn't like them. The easy camaraderie between the three had been missing. Biting comments or stony silence, so unlike the usual banter appeared to have driven d'Artagnan away and was slowly eating away at what Treville had always considered an unbreakable bond.
He didn't think there would be an easy fix to the situation. As he watched d'Artagnan emerge from the stables leading a young grey colt, Treville resented the fact he didn't have a suitable mission to send the four on. There were no pressing deliveries, no nobility to escort. He idly wondered if locking them all into a room for 48 hours would help. It would have to be made of thick stone he mused. And he'd have to consider how to lock it without worrying about all of their superior lock picking skills. And he'd have to put in wine; he wasn't a cruel man and he didn't wish to incite homicide after all. He shook his head slightly dispelling the vision, hiding his smile by taking a sip of wine, watching d'Artagnan training the horse, getting him used to crowds and noise of fighting and musket shots by weaving in and out of the men training in the garrison, watching the horse grow sure footed under d'Artagnan's patient command on the slippery, uneven floor.
There wasn't going to be an easy solution, he considered, but he knew he had to try something. This afternoon, however, maybe he could at least encourage d'Artagnan to have a little break, help him to have a little fun, and demonstrate to the new recruits exactly what they had to attain to be a musketeer.
He waited till d'Artagnan had finished with the horse before descending the steps, calling him over. He also gestured to Mathis and the recruits he had been training. Mathis sneered slightly as he took in d'Artagnan, looking less than esteemed in sweat stained shirt and dirty breeches. Treville ignored it from long practice. The sneering of some of the older musketeers towards their fellow brothers in arms simply because of their position of birth irked him, however there were some battles he was never going to win and he'd long since learnt to pick his battles carefully. Mathis, after all, was a good musketeer, if a little long in the tooth. And for all his condescension and sneering he did a good job training the raw recruits.
'D'Artagnan you have been neglecting your sword play.' Treville started. D'Artagnan startled at the accusation, as Treville expected him to, but did manage to hold his tongue, something Treville knew 6 months ago he wouldn't have been able to do. 'Perhaps you could remedy that, and you and Mathis demonstrate some of the moves for the recruits.' Both d'Artagnan and Mathis knew that wasn't actually a suggestion, and nodded almost as one.
The pair pulled their respective swords, the metal on metal singing sharply at the movement. They settled to a traditional start, respecting the custom by saluting each other. Mathis's sneer seemed to have settled on permanently on his lips. Whilst he wasn't quite to Athos's standard, and despite his ever increasing years, Mathis was a master swordsman, and Treville could see in his confident stance that he fully expected to beat a young upstart like d'Artagnan.
Treville wasn't so sure though. He'd seen, like The Inseparables, d'Artagnan's raw ability with the sword when he'd first arrived. Long hours of practice, the patient tutelage of Athos, and crossing swords with any musketeer who stood still long enough to be asked meant that the raw ability had long since been crafted into something close to an art form. He was getting perilously close to Athos's own skill, though Athos still usually came out the victor in any fight and the fights between the two were often spectacular to watch. Either Mathis had not been so enthralled as the rest of the garrison, who usually took great delight in spectating and betting on such fights, or his ego would not allow the thought that someone of d'Artagnan's breeding could better him. Either way, Treville settled back to enjoy the show, seeing other musketeers around the garrison doing the same.
The two men circled each other, both waiting, watchful, the tension in the air growing with every step. Treville was surprised when Mathis broke first, sending a swinging swipe that d'Artagnan easily defended, immediately returning with a parry of his own, forcing Mathis onto the back foot.
The fight was evenly matched, one would go on the attack, forcing their opponent back until they managed to get in a strike and the fight would turn in an instance. Treville knew he wasn't the only one who lost track of time as the fight bobbed and weaved, peaked and troughed, moving all around the courtyard of the garrison. Treville, watching d'Artagnan relax into the fight, the natural smile that lightened his face, was just giving himself a mental pat on the back when d'Artagnan decided to up the game slightly.
Letting Mathis have the attack for the moment it looked like d'Artagnan was being forced back into a corner. Even Treville let himself be lulled into the thinking, not even considering that d'Artagnan was deliberately letting himself be guided towards the horses' water trough behind him.
Without even a backward glance to check the position, d'Artagnan simply jumped up and back slightly onto the edge of the three foot trough, not even teetering on the narrow edge before he was leaping into a front twist, straight over the stunned Mathis's head, tapping him gently on the shoulder in defeat before the older musketeer could even turn. Yells of appreciation at the audacious move echoed around the garrison from the spectating musketeers and recruits, as d'Artagnan simply smiled slightly, ducking his head slightly.
D'Artagnan moved towards Mathis for the customary handshake, visibly startling at the stormy look on Mathis's face when he turned. 'You cheated!' He hissed in accusation. D'Artagnan faltered, an uncertain look on his face. 'Flashy moves only lead to one outcome and that's your fellow musketeers dead whilst you're showing off!'
D'Artagnan opened his mouth in protest but didn't get a chance, Mathis roughly knocking into him as he stalked past, disappearing into the shocked crowd. Obviously unsure and embarrassed, Treville could see the rough red colour creeping up the young Gascon's neck as he also turned, glancing at Treville before walking out keeping his head deliberately high.
Treville simply sighed.