Hey look, we're early!

I hope everyone's late spring seasons have been going well. Hopefully this chapter is just as enjoyable as you all have found the story to be so far.

Thank you for all the reviews (although even without them we would have kept writing regardless.) Most likely my co-author shall return when he is in his second semester classes as one type of computer coding is taking much of his time and the second should be significantly easier. Oh boy does he have some catching up to do!

But do not worry as we are still collaborating; he knows what I am writing and gives his approval most times before I do any posting or advises on changes.

Again, hope you're all having fun,

MlleDeLaRoseBlanche

Buckingham sat at his table in the cabin, peering at the tiny scroll between his fingers with a half smirk brushing across his face. The message was from Richelieu, of all people, and it was very short. But he was able to derive from its well-chosen words that the Cardinal was looking for a truce to protect himself from the Duke's efforts against the King and against France. Buckingham hummed to himself as he pulled a piece of parchment towards him.

He phrased his words carefully, neither giving his full acceptance of the truce nor denying the offer. If Richelieu too was held in his power then Buckingham would have free reign to seek his revenge on Athos and attack France in the name of war and the feared Statesman could do nothing against him. He folded his reply, heated his sealing wax, dropped a dollop on the fold, and finally pressed his signet ring hard into the hot wax. His coat-of-arms showed itself back to him when he lifted the ring away.

His captain came in, saluted and bowed and opened his mouth to speak but Buckingham cut him off.

"Land the ship before the nearest gate into Paris and inform Milady to prepare for her departure."

"Yes Milord." The soldier bowed again and left to spread the orders amongst the men. Buckingham chuckled to himself and tapped the completed letter against his arm. He hoped that when the gate was opened that someone would manage to get by. He would like a chance to demonstrate that he does not go against his word once it has been made.

The ship lowered its belly and several soldiers leapt from the deck, dangling on the guide lines until their feet touched the ground and away they ran to secure them to stout trees or iron pegs they sunk into the soft dirt. The stacked sails on either side of the vessel creaked with the wind and the flapping of sailcloth was all they could hear for a moment until the sounds of the land-bound army stationed nearby reached their ears. Milady looked out over the rolling terrain and spotted some tendrils of smoke coming from where soldiers were camping, waiting for orders beyond that of fetching supplies for the floating crafts from the fields surrounded the ancient city of Paris.

Milady was awaiting Buckingham, whom had wanted to see her off in the carriage that had been procured for her, though where it had been taken from, she did not know. She brushed her hand idly over a green and gold fabric fold of her skirt and adjusted a couple of pins that held her hat in place on her freshly curled head. Buckingham had had an adequate seamstress brought in order that she would have a sufficient new wardrobe and although the girl had been brought aboard for a week and quaking with terror; she had done her job well when left alone after taking the necessary measurements and being brought her materials from the city.

"Ah, there you are my dear," said a smooth voice behind her. She turned to see Buckingham approaching her in his splendor, dressed from head to toe in a suit of deep, bloody red trimmed with gold and a lace collar bound tightly around his throat. She offered a handsome smile and held out her hand for him to kiss in greeting, which he did immediately.

"You are looking quite radiant today, Milady," said Buckingham suavely, his lips turning up in a half-smirk. "I suppose you are wondering why we have landed?"

She would never admit to being curious. Besides, when one plays with the powers of two kingdoms, one learns to always be aware of everything. She already knew of the Cardinal's truce by applying her unique attentions to the man whom had brought Buckingham the missive, but she was unaware if the Duke had accepted the truce.

"I hope you will tell me," she said, "because I want to help in any way I can."

"Oh you certainly can help now, my dear. I want you to act as my emissary, in secret of course, and deliver this letter to the Cardinal."

"But His Majesty has seen me before as your emissary," Milady pouted. "What am I to do if he recognises me?"

"That fool would not remember what shoes he was wearing, let alone a simple emissary; even if you are particularly worth remembering."

"Yet, there is a chance he could remember me," she muttered. Buckingham shook his head.

"Then see the Cardinal at his own residence instead of his office in the Louvre," said Buckingham, slightly irritably. "Do not forget your main duty: find Athos."

Milady gave a small sigh, took the folded and sealed letter from the English Duke, and tucked it into her bodice before she turned to head towards the gangplank leading off the ship, Buckingham following behind her.

The carriage was waiting there decorated in red and gold and looking very conspicuous. Although the lack of subtlety made Milady want to roll her eyes at the 'operation' she restrained herself and instead thought of how nice it would be to drive on the ground instead of way above it. It had been some time since she had been able to walk anywhere and she found it a pleasant change.

But now is not the time for this, she thought, because I am on a mission and the offer proves to have better results than any of Richelieu's protection.

She climbed into the carriage, picking up her skirts so as not to trip, and once she was seated the horses were whipped into movement and the carriage rolled off towards the nearest entrance into the city to wait for an anchor to be lifted and allow them passage. Standing on the outside of the carriage were four English soldiers disguised in the livery of footmen.

Within the walls of Paris, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were exiting a tavern after staving off their hunger and thirst and were in high spirits (or at least as high spirits as Athos could appear to be.) They had thrown opinions around about the still increased patrols that lacked any action (Porthos very much against them as they stole many a good night's sleep from him) and about when Buckingham would finally make any move (with Athos thinking sooner rather than later as Buckingham had never been a very patient person.) D'Artagnan was not with them as he was taking the rare time off to visit Constance at the Louvre instead of sleeping the entire day away; he had already dozed through the morning.

The streets were busy with people and it appeared that the Parisians had returned to their normal routines without all the scurrying about in fear and the panicked fights for food in the markets. The city was well supplied for now but none wished to consider what would happen when those stocks ran out.

The three musketeers passed through a market square that had gathered a silent crowd in the middle, leaving the vendors quite put-off around the edges, and they stopped for a moment to see what drew the peoples' attention so thoroughly, hearing only a keening voice coming from within the mass. Porthos pushed his way through the wall of people, Athos and Aramis close behind, until they were able to see the scruffy, unkempt man standing in the middle of the crowd. Athos' face began to darken as they listened to the man call out to the people to defy the orders of the King & the soldiers and go out themselves to get the food they would need rather than rely on others.

"If we continue listening to the King and his court, which have more than any of us could dream, then we will all starve! We must take action. We must get the food we need to survive for our children, our wives, and ourselves!"

"If this madman continues, he'll incite a panic," said Aramis with a frown. Porthos made to move forward but Athos grasped at his upper arm to halt him in his tracks.

"Athos, what are you doing?" Porthos demanded, trying to pull away.

"If you go after him in such a way then the people will truly turn against all the soldiers and the last thing any of us need in the wrath of the Parisians keeping us from our duty." Athos explained lowly, looking around to make sure none were listening to him.

The people around them were growing restless and their expressions were a mixture of nervousness, determination, and anger. Their voices began to rise in assent with the unkempt man.

"To the fields! We must have food! Let us out!" the people cried.

Their exuberance and manner drew in others that were entering the square late or simply passing through and Athos, Porthos, and Aramis soon found themselves being swept along with the mob, trapped between men and women as they all were led like sheep towards the nearest outer wall, the yells and chants ringing in their ears.

As the mob rounded a corner and faced a gate, they found that many soldiers had heard the yelling, the catcalls, the threats, and the cheers, and were now lined up along the wall top and the street below to block the path. But the people would not be deterred and, after a brief moment of silence, a roar resounded and the people rushed forth. The soldiers were surprised and the ones in the street found themselves swarmed. Athos was shuffled into the middle of the fray and seeing a burly young man slamming a Guardsman's head into the stones; he leapt forward to throw the peasant off and helped the guard back to his now unsteady feet. Athos could hear Porthos bellowing somewhere nearby but he could find no sign of Aramis. Worrying for the mostly gentle man, Athos pushed men and women and soldiers hither and thither in search of black-haired man with no success. He did manage to reach Porthos though, who was holding two men by the back of their collars and promptly dropped them upon sighting Athos.

"Have you seen Aramis in this mess?" Athos demanded. Porthos shook his head.

"He was next to me until these fools charged and then I didn't see him."

But Athos and Porthos needn't have worried, for Aramis was sound despite being pressed into an alley that had no other exit besides the way he'd come through. The roars grew more intense as the gates were suddenly opened wide and the soldiers fought back harder to stop the people from flooding out. A pair of grey horses pulling a red carriage picked its way through the mess, able to get far enough for a couple of the footmen to hop down and shut the gates once more. The women in the crowd gave anguished, defeated cries and the men became fiercer. They abandoned their charge on the street soldiers and instead took to the stairs that led up to the wall top. It was utter chaos. What was left behind was several unconscious men, a couple of dead bodies, and a woman who looked like she had been trampled by her fellows in their haste.

Aramis looked at all this in disgust. He lifted his eyes away from the sight briefly as he took hold of the cross about his neck in his hand and before he began to whisper the Last Rites, his eyes flicked to the window of the carriage as it passed and they became as round as gold coins. No, it cannot be!

He tried to get closer but now that the street was mostly cleared, the carriage rolled away faster, the horses spurred by the driver and the footmen swaying on their posts as they held fast to the corners. Aramis forgot about the Last Rites and stared at the vehicle, or where it had been, until suddenly Athos and Porthos were upon him. Porthos caught him in a strong, one-armed embrace, quite happy to see that he was unharmed. Athos asked him if he was alright as he looked like he had seen a ghost. Aramis did not know how to respond to the inquiry as he was not quite sure what he had seen.

"It's nothing," he said over the noise on the ramparts above them. "I thought I saw someone I knew."

Porthos pulled Athos and Aramis forward a few paces as a soldier suddenly fell from above where they had been standing. The two older musketeers quickly forgot their inquiries and the three drew their swords and took to the stairs in order to try and help their fellows stop the frenzied crowd.