Chapter 3

Athos POV

The evening light had slowly faded as the last slivers of the sun had finally slipped behind a mountain range, relinquishing its hold on this day to let the darkness take over and turn dusk into night.

In a cloudless sky, the stars had been their steady companions and the full moon had helped guide their way for the last few league of the journey, since darkness had fallen.

Nonetheless, Athos heaved a sigh of relief when they finally guided their horses through the archway of the garrison gate, four sets of hooves echoing loudly on cobblestone. They made their way into the courtyard and came to a halt in front of the stables.

Athos dismounted with practiced ease and handed his reins to the stable boy who seemed to appear out of nowhere. A quick glance to the illuminated second story office window told him that Treville was still there, most likely waiting for them and the assurance of a successfully completed mission.

At least they would be able to deliver good news in that regard.

Turning his eyes away from the window and his thoughts away from the report he would have to give in a few minutes, Athos took a moment to study his three companions.

Porthos and d'Artagnan had dismounted as well, leaving their horses in the care of the stable boy who had returned to fetch them.

Porthos was slightly bending backward to stretch his obviously sore muscles, his movements extracting an audible pop from stiff joints. His large friend looked annoyed and tired, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

D'Artagnan was currently trying to hide a yawn behind the back of his hand. The young man had fought extremely well today, and Athos had been proud of the way he had handled himself both during and after battle. Now, however, his young friend looked weary and drained, the large bruise around his eye standing out harshly on his drawn face.

When his eyes came to rest on Aramis, he cringed inwardly. The man's face had seemingly lost all color quite some time ago. Only partly obscured by his hat, the stitches along his temple and the remaining dried blood and dirt gave him a ghostly appearance in the pale light of the moon.

Athos wasn't entirely certain how his friend had managed to hold himself in the saddle until now. He decided to credit that fact to the man's fierce determination and most of all, his stubbornness.

Aramis had spent the last hour of their journey painfully hunched over in his seat, one arm drawn tightly around his midsection while his breath seemingly refused to come as anything other than short bursts. And yet, no sound had ever made it past his lips, and his pace had never slowed.

The marksman was presently still seated on top of his horse; the reins held one handed in a tight-knuckled grip. Athos watched as Aramis's brow furrowed while evidently debating his next course of action.

His friend eyed the ground warily as if trying to decide whether dismounting his mare would land him on his feet or flat on his face.

He must have come to the conclusion that the former possibility would hold true. Keeping his right boot in the stirrup, Aramis swung his left leg over the horse's rear and with one hand on the reins and the other on the saddle, slowly lowered himself to the ground.

Clearly pleased with his accomplishment of remaining upright, Aramis turned away from his horse with a small but satisfied grin on his face. He lifted his head, only to find three pairs of eyes staring at him intently; Porthos standing only an arm's length away.

His brow furrowed again, this time in confusion and he asked slowly, almost petulantly, "What are you doing?"

With a sarcastic retort already on his lips, Athos opened his mouth to speak, when Porthos beat him to it, "Ah, nothin' much. Just makin' sure you don't fall on your face." The hand squeezing Aramis's shoulder belied the gentle mockery of Porthos's words.

"As truly touching as that sounds, I assure you, it is quite unnecessary. I am fine."

Athos's involuntary scoff drew Aramis's attention and put a scowl on his friends face.

He was suddenly grateful that sarcastic replies were never something he was in short supply of. "If you could see yourself in a mirror right now, you could fully appreciate how utterly ridiculous that sounds."

Before Aramis had a chance to argue any further, Athos persisted, letting just enough honest concern bleed through his words, "But all jest and bravado aside; do you need to see a physician before we speak to Treville?"

Aramis visibly deflated as he sighed deeply and held Athos's gaze while answering, "There is truly no need my friend. D'Artagnan's stitches are holding well, and there is nothing more that can be done for my ribs."

Athos accepted the statement with a curt nod as Aramis continued sheepishly, another grin appearing on his face, "I wouldn't mind a bottle of wine, however."

Clasping Aramis's shoulder, Athos replied, "After we've given our report, I will personally fetch you all the wine you desire." Turning his head to look at d'Artagnan and Porthos, he added, "I am sure we could all use some."

"Ah yes," d'Artagnan sighed, "and food; we could all use some food as well."

As they turned collectively to walk across the courtyard to the stairs, Porthos rested his hand on d'Artagnan's back, chuckling, "Don't worry. I promise we won't let you starve my friend."

Stopping in their tracks, they looked up when the office door creaked open, and Treville appeared on the landing of the balcony upstairs, a scowl on his face. "It's about damn time; I was starting to fear the worst."

Athos was still wondering how Treville could have known they had encountered trouble, when their Captain carried on, "What are you waiting for? We have much to discuss." Not waiting for a reply, but clearly expecting them to follow, Treville disappeared back into his office.

Athos briefly turned to his friends and was faced with three similar looks of confusion.

"That doesn't sound good," d'Artagnan decided.

He offered a quick shrug, "Only one way to find out." Turning back, Athos followed his captain up the stairs.

When the four of them filed into the office, they found Treville leaning against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed in front of him.

The captain's watchful gaze briefly settled on each of them, his eyes darkening considerably when he took in d'Artagnan's colorful array of bruising and Aramis's overall battered appearance. "What the hell happened to you?"

The question wasn't aimed at anyone in particular, so Athos took it upon himself to answer, "First off I would like to report that the king's missive was delivered without incident. We arrived at the Comte's chateau yesterday evening and left his grounds early this morning. He sends his regards to the king."

Treville nodded once. "That's good to hear. I will report to his majesty in the morning." Fixing Athos with an intense stare, he repeated his earlier inquiry, "Now tell me what the hell happened."

Athos nodded his head in compliance. "We were ambushed on the way back; about two hours away from the city as we were passing through the forest north of Paris. The set up was professional; paid mercenaries who were given written instructions to wait for us on that stretch of road. A total of thirteen men attacked us from two sides."

As he remembered the ambush, his gaze was drawn to Aramis and Athos realized that his friend's stoic facade was about to crumble as his frame had started to shake visibly with the effort of staying upright.

The remainder of the journey had evidently drained the last of his reserves, and Athos could feel the concern for his brother taking hold once more, his brow furrowing in the face of Aramis's deteriorating state.

He added to his report, trying to keep his voice level, "We discovered evidence that Aramis was the intended target" – Athos turned back to Treville and locked eyes with his captain –"and they damn near succeeded in completing their mission."

Clearly understanding his meaning, the captain's gaze darkened visibly as his eyes settled on Aramis, taking in the pallor of the other man's face, the long wound on the side of his head and the stiff posture in which he held himself.

Treville sighed deeply before he said, "so it is true then; another ghost has come back to haunt us."

"Captain?" Aramis was first to voice his confusion.

Treville pushed himself away from his desk, took hold of one of the extra chairs in the room and placed it next to Aramis. "Sit down son, before you fall over."

The relief Athos detected behind his friend's grateful expression did nothing to alleviate his concerns, as he watched Aramis slowly lower himself down into the chair. When he was settled, the marksman exhaled deeply and removed his hat, running one hand through his unruly curls.

"All of you, make yourselves comfortable, I have my own report to give." After his announcement, Treville turned to walk over to the cabinet at the back wall of his office, pulling out a bottle of brandy and five glasses.

As he started pouring the liquid, Porthos settled onto the windowsill, close to Aramis. D'Artagnan found another chair to sit down in and Athos leaned against the edge of the desk.

Each of them accepted their drink with gratitude, waiting for Treville to speak.

Their captain took a large swig of his brandy, almost as if he needed to gather his wits to tell the news evidently weighing heavily on him. Leaning back against the edge of his desk next to Athos and his eyes fixed to a spot on the floor, he began his report.

"Earlier this evening, there was a disturbance in one of the taverns, downtown. One of the patrons, a man named Albert, lost at cards to two of our men; Ballard and Francois." – Treville slowly raised his head – "Albert, evidently angered by his misfortune and heavily affected by drink, started to ramble about a plan in motion which would, and I quote 'teach the arrogant-sons of whores-musketeers a lesson'. He said that one of our own was marked for death."

Leaning forward with both elbows braced on his knees and his drink clasped in his hands, d'Artagnan used the captain's momentary pause to verbalize a thought. "You think this is related to the attack in the forest" – Turning his head, he briefly glanced at Aramis –"How can you be sure? For some reason we do seem to receive drunken death threats rather often."

Athos carefully studied the wary expression on his captain's face and correctly assumed, "There is more."

Treville nodded briefly before picking up the thread, "When Francois started to question Albert as to how he came by this information, he revealed that someone had been trying to recruit him for an assassination attempt on a musketeer. Of course he claimed not to be foolish enough to partake in any actions against the king's guard."

Treville paused again to take another swig of his brandy.

"Did they detain him for further questioning?" Porthos asked.

"No." Treville sighed deeply before continuing, "Albert is dead."

Athos felt his eyebrows draw together at the news, and a strange sense of foreboding suddenly spread through his system. He listened as Treville went on.

"Ballard attempted to detain Albert and escort him to the garrison. He reports that a shot was fired from a dark alleyway, shortly after they left the Tavern. Albert dropped dead instantly, and the shooter was able to escape."

Athos tilted his head sideways in question. "Did you have the dead man searched?"

"Ballard was about to search and deliver him to the morgue when the four of you returned from your little adventure. He should report to us shortly."

Treville's expression suddenly changed and Athos could detect a mixture of regret and sorrow on his face; two emotions Athos was completely unaccustomed to associate with the captain.

The feeling of dread Athos had started to experience earlier roared to a crescendo as Treville reluctantly spoke his next words.

"There was one other piece of information Albert revealed before Ballard escorted him out of the Tavern."Turning his head slightly, he locked eyes with Aramis. "He repeatedly said, 'Valois would have his revenge; no matter what'."

Aramis visibly tensed at hearing the name Treville had spoken, his voice a whisper of disbelief. "Valois?" Leaning forward in his chair, he braced his forearms on his legs.

When the marksman's breath started to quicken, Athos couldn't discern if it was due to his injuries or shock at hearing the news. He listened in confusion as Aramis continued, his voice raw. "It is not possible. Nicolas Valois is dead."

"I know that, son." Treville nodded slowly in confirmation. "How could I ever forget?"

Athos watched as another look passed between Aramis and Treville; a silent communication in a language nobody else in the room seemed to understand. He couldn't take it any longer.

"Who on earth is Nicolas Valois?"

After another heartbeat, Treville broke eye contact with Aramis and turned to Athos.

"Six years ago, Nicolas Valois was a musketeer in this regiment. Aramis, Marsac, Valois and another one of my soldiers- Charles, were tasked with the mission of escorting the king's cousin back to his home in Toulouse. Two days into the journey, after setting up camp," –

"Valois volunteered to take first watch and then killed Charles in his sleep. He slit his throat."

Aramis's voice was subdued and strangely devoid of emotion as he continued the story Treville had started, his glassy eyes holding a vacant expression as he stared at something in the distance only he could see.

"Valois betrayed us. He had been approached by a group of raiders days earlier and was paid handsomely in exchange for the details of our travel route and the promise to kill his brothers in their sleep. The plan was to kidnap the king's cousin for ransom."

"How did you survive?" D'Artagnan asked quietly.

Aramis managed a small smile. "Luck, perhaps. Or God's will. I am still unsure which. I woke up the second Valois leaned in to slit my throat." The smile disappeared completely and was replaced by a scowl with his next words. "I was able to fight him off and pierced his heart with his own blade."

"Five men arrived shortly thereafter to collect the king's cousin. Since the only musketeer they expected to find alive was Valois, Marsac and I were able to dispose of them fairly quickly. The king's cousin was unharmed, and we continued on to Toulouse the next day."

"Disposed of them quickly?" Treville raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You took a sword to the side and, if I recall correctly, were dead on your feet by the time you and Marsac finally returned to the garrison."

Having nothing left to say, Aramis just shrugged tiredly at the added detail to his story.

Porthos's face had seemingly grown darker the longer he had listened and with a strange mixture of anger and concern in his voice he asked, "How come we've never heard of this before?"

Treville replied somberly, "Valois was a traitor to his brother's and the worst disgrace this regiment had ever seen. Therefore, the king decided that it would be scandalous for people to learn that there was a conspirator among his own personal guard. No mission documents were ever filed, and only the King, the Cardinal, Aramis, Marsac and I ever knew the truth. As far as anyone else was concerned, Charles and Nicolas Valois died during the attack by the Raiders."

"I'd say it is safe to assume that someone else discovered the truth." Athos mused with a sideways glance in Aramis's direction. "The question is, how?"

If this entire mess had been set in motion because someone had learned what really happened to Valois and was trying to avenge him, then Treville had been right; another one of their ghosts had returned to haunt them.

Athos knew that just like himself, Aramis had his own nightmares to contend with. He hadn't known about this particular one, but it did not matter. Athos had noticed the shock on his friend's face at hearing Valois' name, as well as the sorrow in his eyes when he told his story. No matter what it might take, he would make certain that Aramis would not face this demon alone.

Before anyone else could comment on the facts that had just been revealed, a knock sounded at the door.

Treville turned his head towards the noise. "Enter."

The man who stepped into the office bore his usual stone gray leather doublet and his black hat sat firmly in place. Ballard had been with the regiment for several years and had proven himself to be a fine soldier.

At the moment, he was slightly out of breath and had a grim expression on his face. He bowed his head slightly in greeting before addressing Treville. "Captain."

"Ballard. What have you learned?"

The other Musketeer briefly glanced at Aramis, silently studying the battered man for a moment. Athos thought he detected a strange flash of emotion in Ballard's eyes but didn't have the chance to ponder it as the other man turned back to Treville and answered the question.

"I searched Albert before taking him to the morgue." He stepped forward, handing a folded piece of paper to Treville. "This note was the only thing of interest."

Treville unfolded the message and began to read aloud. "Should you change your mind, meet us at Duval's abandoned farmhouse south of the city gates after dark."

Ballard elaborated, "Before he was murdered, Albert said that someone tried to recruit him for an assassination. This farmhouse may have been the place they gathered before riding out to prepare the ambush in the forest."

"Makes sense," Porthos agreed. "It's worth lookin' into; we do need to get to the bottom of this. And fast."

Athos felt the same urgency that had apparently taken hold of Porthos. They needed answers before they were caught unawares again.

The captain addressed Ballard once more. "Anything else?"

"I had Francois search Albert's lodgings at the tavern, but he didn't turn up anything of interest. We also spoke to the tavern owner and apparently Albert did have the reputation of a man who can be hired for any type of work."

Treville nodded. "Thank you, Ballard. Well done."

Recognizing the Captain's obvious dismissal, Ballard briefly bowed his head once more and with another surreptitious glance at Aramis, he left the office.

Treville sighed deeply. "There is nothing more we can do tonight. Porthos, D'Artagnan, in the morning I want the two of you to ride out to Duval's farm and see if there is anything to find."

At Porthos's curt nod of acknowledgment, the Captain turned his head to Athos.

"I remember that Nicolas Valois had a son and that even during his time with the regiment, they had lodgings outside the garrison. If there is revenge to be had, close family members are always a good place to start. I will dig up the address, and you and Aramis can start your investigation there."

At the mention of close family members, Porthos produced the silver ring he had kept in his pocket. He handed it to Treville, and as the Captain slowly turned the small item in his fingers to study it, Porthos explained, "We retrieved this ring from one of the attackers in the forest. There is a V engraved on the inside."

"V for Valois?" Treville lifted his head. "Could it have been his son?"

"No," Aramis replied quickly. "The owner of this ring was too old to be Valois' son. He would have to be younger; D'Artagnan's age."

Treville nodded once. "Alright. At least now we know we're on the right trail. Tomorrow we will find out more."

Athos inclined his head in acknowledgment of the plan, but cautioned, "I would like to suggest we keep the details of our investigation secret for now. The perpetrators were somehow able to obtain undisclosed details of our mission to Rouen. Until we know how they came by their information, we need to remain vigilant."

Treville crossed his arms over his chest. "Agreed."

Athos's gaze was drawn to Aramis once more; his friend's voice having sounded absent and extremely tired when last he spoke. Feeling his brow furrow in concern, he silently watched the marksman.

Elbows still braced on his knees; Aramis supported his bowed head with one hand, his fingers rubbing slow circles on his forehead as if trying to rid himself of the persistent ache that resided there. His face was deathly pale.

Treville must have noticed the same, as his eyes were also fixed on the ailing soldier. He chose to conclude their meeting. "Alright. You should all go and eat something. I'm sure Serge has a warm stew waiting for you. Then get some rest. I get the feeling that tomorrow will be a long day."

His captain's voice must have penetrated the haze surely residing inside Aramis's head, because he started to rise slowly, seemingly unaware of the concerned looks aimed in his direction.

When he finally gained his feet, his knees buckled under his weight as his exhausted body seemed to protest the change in elevation. He would have hit the floor if it hadn't been for Porthos's quick reaction.

"Oi. Oh no, you don't." The larger man quickly seized Aramis's arm and for a moment supported most of his weight. "Steady now." Porthos locked eyes with his friend, silently communicating as they did so often. Only when Aramis gave a shaky nod, did Porthos release him, trusting that his friend would be able to stay upright by himself.

When d'Artagnan opened the door to leave, Aramis and Porthos followed closely behind. Athos was about to fall in line when Treville called him back. "Athos, a word."

He closed the door behind Porthos and looked back at his Captain expectantly.

"Make sure you keep an eye on him." Athos followed Treville's gaze and realized that he was watching Aramis through the window as the man carefully descended the stairs outside.

Sensing that the Captain hadn't finished, Athos remained silent.

"He will try not to show it, but having this particular nightmare resurface will take a toll on him. Being betrayed and almost murdered by Valois, his supposed brother, rattled him to the core." Treville turned his head away from the window and locked eyes with Athos as he continued. "And as we all know, that wasn't the only time he narrowly survived an assassination attempt in a forest."

Exhaling loudly, Treville concluded. "I strongly suspect that before this is over, Aramis will need to be reminded that this time he does not stand alone against the enemy, that this time he has true brothers fighting right alongside him."

Athos nodded his understanding. "I promise I will not let him forget."

He held Treville's gaze for another heartbeat, then turned and left the office to join his brothers for a late night supper and what he suspected to be the calm before the storm.

TBC

Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoy where this is going. More action and hurt coming soon. Reviews are most welcome :)