The sun shone mercilessly that day. The leather musketeer outfits were tight, and not breathable one bit; the entire regiment was soon sweating profusely. At least, Aramis thought, this would hide his fever. If everyone was hot, he wouldn't stand out. He could feel his temperature rising which could, most probably, only mean one thing. Infection. Aramis' mysterious saviour may have gotten him to Paris quickly, but obviously not quickly enough.
Aramis knew he had some emergency herbal remedies in his room for similar situations. He hadn't been able to concentrate when he'd been there, however now it was abundantly clear a medical concoction would be a very good idea. Unfortunately, Aramis knew that any fake excuse would only arouse suspicion therefore there was no hope of getting back to his room for a while. Maybe he could sneak out at some point when no one was paying attention... They had nearly arrived at the palace, however, so Aramis put any temporary ideas out of his head for the time being until he could find a moment to concentrate.
Aramis followed his friends through the ongoing preparations to the terrace where Captain Treville was discussing something with the King and the Cardinal.
'Your Majesty.' Athos bowed gracefully, with the others following suite. Aramis had to bite his cheek as his belt dug into his side.
'Cardinal.' Athos addressed the Richelieu through grit teeth, performing a quick bow in his direction. Reluctantly, the others imitated their friend. Finally, Athos turned to Treville.
'Captain.'
By the third bow, Aramis was rapidly blinking away tears as he struggled to keep a straight face. He fought to conceal his expression, when suddenly Treville called him forward.
'Aramis. Our Spanish translator had to head to Savoy on other urgent matters. We have failed to find a replacement on such short notice. I trust you will willingly step in?' Treville fixed Aramis with one of his signature stares, until Aramis replied only moments later.
'Of course, it would be... An honour.' Aramis only bowed his head this time, and caught Treville's eye as he straightened up. Aramis wanted to scream at him: no, I can't do this, I should be resting, I should be...
But he couldn't. The Captain, Aramis' friends, and, now, all of Paris was relying on him. All future plans Aramis had envisioned disappeared with the blink of an eye.
By the time the preparations were complete, it was past noon. Both regiments were to have a short break before resuming their posts. Aramis once again considered a trip to his room, but knew it would be better to spend his time off resting instead. Going to his room would only use up his energy which was currently at a critical level. Therefore, Aramis kept to himself- fighting dizziness and the overpowering urge to sleep. He knew his body needed rest. It was just that Paris needed him more.
Aramis had not eaten since a modest breakfast the day before, however he certainly had no appetite now. He managed to drink a little water, but that was about it. Aramis knew that his friends would put his odd behaviour down to anxiety. Aramis' upcoming task was making him nervous, however not as much as it would normally due to rather unfortunate circumstances. Aramis' wound was rather demanding most of his attention. As if he could forget.
As the end of the short respite rapidly drew to an end, Treville appeared. Aramis rose, ready to follow his Captain. With a few good luck wishes from the others, the two soldiers once note headed towards the palace.
Aramis' side had numbed slightly and would have probably felt much better if Aramis had taken the time to let it heal more. Unfortunately, duty calls and it was currently screaming at Aramis.
On arrival at the palace, Aramis was lengthily briefed on what to do, say, where and when to stand, sit... Somehow Aramis managed to process the instructions and, before he knew it, he was positioned at the King's side, watching a carriage's progress as it slowly rolled in front of the palace. A man clad in ceremonial clothes (not unlike King Louise's outfit) stepped out of the doors. Two guards accompanied him, looming menacingly on either side. Louise stood to attention, waiting for the Spanish ambassador to ascend the palace steps. Aramis felt his muscles tense and could feel everyone around him do so too. There was a lot riding on the performance that France presented there that day.
After what seemed like an eternity, the Ambassador reached the top of the steps and greeted the King.
'Buenas trades, mi nombre es Embajador Del Bosque.'
The gears in Aramis' brain began to turn automatically as he began to translate.
'Good afternoon, my name is Ambassador Del Bosque.'
The next few hours went by excruciatingly slow for Aramis. Upon his arrival, Ambassador Del Bosque was immediately taken to the Garrison where the musketeers were awaiting inspection.
'I hope the won't be any mistakes.' King Louise smiled in jest, though the look he shot Treville was deadly serious. Aramis translated immediately, addressing the Ambassador. A sense of confusion dawned on the Spaniard's face. At that moment, Aramis realised he had confused 'yerro' with 'hierro' and had just told the Ambassador that Louise hopes there wouldn't be any irons. After a hasty correction, all Aramis received (thankfully) was a strange look from the Spanish men before the tour was resumed.
Seeing his friends so formal and so obedient brought a smirk to Aramis' face. He could clearly see that Porthos was itching to just smash something to break the awkward silence. Calm and collective, just standing still... It was not any of their cup of tea.
The Musketeer performance was exemplary, apart from one unfortunate incident. Aramis went to go out of a soldier's way when he tripped over an unattended musket. He quickly held on to the nearest object for support. Unfortunately, that happened to be a table which came crashing down onto Aramis, along with all of the rifles soldiers had placed on it. Aramis' cry of surprise hid his reaction of genuine pain as the edge of the table caught Aramis in the midsection. It was not a direct impact on his wound, however the blow did disturb the area around it, causing the familiar painful throbbing to return.
Three blurry black shapes came into focus and, before he knew it, Aramis was being hauled out of the wreckage by two pairs of strong hands while a third lifted the table.
'Soldiers! Back to your commands!' Treville sounded infuriated, however Aramis could detect a slight touch of concern in his voice. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan reluctantly retreated back to their posts after hearing Aramis' 'I'm fine, I wasn't looking where I was going...'
Treville strode over to Aramis, raising an eyebrow at his soldier's questionable state.
'And you.' He instructed the younger man, however a hint of worry was not to be missed, reflected in his stern expression.
The rest of the day flew by, with Aramis feeling like he was in some sort of trance. He made few mistakes with his translations (albeit there were mistakes) and no more incidents occurred.
The Ambassador was settling into his quarters to stay the night, and Aramis was released. Finally free from his duties, Aramis stumbled down the palace steps to take his horse back to the stables. To his surprise, his friends were already waiting for him to accompany him back after a hard day's work for all of them.
'I could do with a drink!' Porthos laughed loudly, grinning at his companions. Aramis agreed however immediately intended to bail out as soon as possible and head back to his room.
Aramis prepared to hoist himself onto the saddle, when suddenly something caught his eye. Something had moved among the palace hedges. And this wasn't the animal type of movement- it was surely a human. Suddenly, the shape reappeared and Aramis managed to even make out a face among the hedges. A face he knew very well, but hadn't seen for many years. The face of...
Aramis' shock at his discovery caught him off guard, causing his foot to slip on the stirrup. Instead, it went through, kicking the horses side and causing it to rear up in surprise at the sudden contact. The horse bolted and, before Aramis could process what had happened, his feet were being torn from under him and he was being dragged around the palace courtyard, pulled along by his foot. Aramis could hear his name being shouted and was aware of hooves galloping after him, however another problem had just been added to his list, which was long enough as it was.
A distinct ripping sound could be heard as Aramis was torn between the horse and gravity and his stitches couldn't handle the pressure. Aramis could feel the blood flow being renewed and, with his last bit of strength and willpower, he managed to kick his foot free from the stirrup. The hard ground was a blessing and Aramis simply lay there, enjoying the reliable surface, until he heard several pairs of feet crunching in the gravel as they ran in his direction. Soon, Aramis was once against surrounded by his friends, and at the midst of a flood of questions.
'Aramis, are you alright?'
'Where's that blood coming from?'
'Shit, there's so much of it...'
'Aramis, what happened?'
'Who did this to you?'
'Wait... Is that from a musket ball?'
All questions were abruptly silenced as Aramis opened his mouth to speak. His eyes remained closed, but the image of the face he saw before was burned into his eyelids.
With his last bit of energy, Aramis managed to scrunch up his face and mutter in an annoyed fashion 'my needlework' before he finally lost consciousness.
After writing for over 2 hours straight, there you have it! I really hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll keep working on the next installment! Please let me know what you think!
