Paris was hot, unreasonably so, and with the warm weather came more beggars and thieves than ever before; the smell of the cities great unwashed grew stronger with every passing day, especially in the taverns the musketeers and their new young friend frequented. On one such day, as the heat of the sun faded into the blessed cool of evening, the four were sat around a table drinking and talking as they were wont to do when there was an almighty shout from the other side of the room. Heads turned, hands on their swords they looked over to see a young man with the palest of blonde hair throw a man nearly twice his size onto a table, knife at his throat.
Exchanging looks, they rose one after the other, and moved to investigate.
"You, Derain, are a lying cheating piece of filth!" The blonde man snarled, pressing the blade harder into the meaty flesh of his captives throat.
"I don't know what yer talkin' abou' Sir, honest, now get off o' me!" He replied loudly, his words slurred from drink, his beady eyes never leaving the sharp blade that could very well end his life.
"What seems to be the problem here gentlemen?" Aramis enquired, arms spread in a friendly, placating gesture, a smile on his lips.
Turning his head to face the Musketeer the blonde glared at him with the most striking violet eyes he had ever seen, a sneer on his full lips before turning back to the severely sweating man below him.
"This swine is no gentlemen; he is a cheat and a thief and unless he returns to me what he has taken I start taking it out of his miserable hide." He snarled, banging the man back into the table.
"I am afraid we cannot let you do that." Athos, ever the voice of reason, cut in as he drew his sword and placed it, blade edge down over the young mans hand.
With a growl the young man released his captive, sheathing the blade in his boot, hand returning to rest upon the pommel of his sword as he turned to face the quartet.
"Now, explain from the beginning why..." Athos began when the man surged up from the table and attacked, sword in hand. The young man swung around, drawing his own in the process and they met in mid-air with a clash of steel and the fight was on. The young blonde parried and slashed, pushing Derain back towards the wall, when another came at him from the side; duelling both the young man moved gracefully, his every motion flowing seamlessly into the next, almost as if he were dancing.
Aramis, having knocked out his own opponent, swept his eyes over the rest of the room and upon seeing the young man duelling fiercely against two larger men rushed to help. Catching Derain's blow on his sword, he engaged, and began to fight.
"What do you think you're doing?" The blonde demaned as he pushed the large moor away from him, and kicking him in the chest, sent him arse over head over the bar.
"Helping you, what does it look like?" The womaniser responded with a grin as he finally swept the legs from under Demain and knocked him to the ground.
"I don't need you're help, Musketeer." He snarled, sheathing his sword with an angry thrust he knelt down and began searching Demain's clothes before with a snort of derision pulled out what looked to be a finally made, expensive leather money pouch. Straightening up, he tucked the pouch inside the heavy leather overcoat he wore, pushed the fringe of his shoulder length hair out of his face and began to walk out when an hand caught his arm.
"You still haven't explained what this was all about Monsieur, and you won't be leaving until you do." Aramis demanded, his normal jovial tone gone as he stared down the young man who had more or less caused the fight in the first place. Tearing his arm from the Musketeers grip, the man levelled him a withering glare and folded his arms across his chest.
"What do you want to know?"
"You're name for a start, why you had him at knife point for another and what you just took from him."
"My name is Gabriel Dacian Cyrano Delacour, son of Grosvenor Cyrano Delacour, Marquis Pont-à-Mousson. I had him at knife point because earlier today I discovered that Demain, the man you saw me accost, who works in the stables at my home had stolen into my chambers after having drugged myself and the rest of small staff and stolen a gift sent to me by my sister along with my coin purse. I was aware he frequented this place and came to collect my property from him. Now, may I leave? I have infinitely better things to do with my time than waste it talking to a Musketeer." Gabriel sneered out the last word as if it left a foul taste in his mouth; the ugly expression did not, however, mar his beauty. Now, Aramis was a ladies man make no mistake, but even he could appreciate that this was a beautiful young man. High cheek bones, delicate jaw line, high brow and a long, elegant neck; he was the most beautiful and the most feminine looking man he had ever seen, had it not been for the total lack of breasts, prowess with a blade and military style clothing he would have sworn he was a woman.
"Yes, that should be fine, my lord, but in case we have anymore questions could you tell me where you are staying in the city?"
"The Delacour Residence on the Rue de la Tournon, knock and ask for Inès or if she is not available Corinne or Francois should do. They will know where to find me." Gabriel responded before sweeping imperiously from the tavern leaving the Musketeer to wonder if he would ever see the strange young man again.