This will be another 2-3 part one-shot.
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Aramis, at the moment, wished he listened a little more once in a while to his brothers' advice.
They said 'don't get involved'.
'Don't rush into things'.
They said 'sometimes he got in trouble when he should just keep quiet'.
In hindsight, he realized that in this particular instance, they were right. But it was too late now, he thought ruefully, looking down at the blood sweeping over his hands where they were attempting to stop the bleeding in his abdomen.
I meant well, though, his thoughts continued, as he sat in the middle of an otherwise peaceful field of green grass, sheep ignoring him as they munched away.
His thoughts then brought him back to earlier in the day.
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He had been given a couple of days off, and had promptly headed out of Paris to spend a day or two with a a young family who had graciously extended an invitation to stay with them if he was ever in the area. He had provided them some assistance when a pickpocket had relieved the couple of what little coin they had, and had returned it to them.
He had been delayed almost a day of that time on the road, when his horse threw a shoe, and he had needed to get it taken care of.
Ah well, he thought. Down one of his two days. But optimistically, he still looked forward even to one day of tranquility was better than none, looking around at the quiet, beautiful countryside full of grass and trees.
As he rode onto the small farm, his neck began to prickle, and he felt uneasy. He didn't know yet what was causing the feeling. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was quiet.
He dismounted, heading for the door of the farmhouse and knocking. Silence. He tried once more, with no response, no sound.
Well, he thought, there goes a nice quiet countryside day.
Mounting up again, he turned his horse around and slowly rode away.
Heading back down the road, he got a mile or so away when he got the niggling feeling again. Pausing, he thought, it's probably nothing.
All the same, he stayed where he was, uncertain if he should go back.
Finally making up his mind, he nudged his horse around and made his way back to the farm.
When the house and barn were within eyesight, he immediately knew he had made the right decision, as he saw several men herding the helpless family out the door of it the house.
Reaching for and pulling his pistol from it's holster, he kneed his mount faster, heading right for the group.
Reaching them and dismounting, he unsheathed his sword as his feet hit the ground. Stalking forward, he demanded, "What is going on here?"
There were three men with the family, and and now another two emerged from the barn, aiming pistols at him. One of them stood out from the rest, his attire immediately proclaiming him a nobleman.
Aramis had the unpleasant realization that maybe he should have lingered a few moments on the property's outskirts to watch and see what had been giving him the internal warning. Now, it was definitely too late, and he was up against too many odds.
He didn't lower his pistol, and they didn't either. To richly-dressed man in the second group of men who had come from the barn said, "Drop your weapons!" his voice ringing with authority.
Aramis stood his ground.
The man nodded, and a pistol was leveled at the woman's head. Aramis then heard a distinct click, and saw the poor woman flinch in terror.
Dropping his weapons, he slowly raised his hands in the air. He repeated his question. "What is going on?" he demanded.
"Not that it's any of your business, but we've come to retrieve something that belongs to me," the man said.
Aramis persisted, "Let these people go.
One of the others came over and said something in his ear. The nobleman's head swiveled swiftly back to Aramis, eyes searching him from head to foot and finally lingering on Aramis' shoulder where his pauldron was.
"Aw, so a King's Musketeer has come nosing around into private business. You are going to be very sorry you interfered in my private business," firing his pistol as he spoke. The captive woman screamed.
Aramis, shock at the unexpected shot registering on his face, clutched with both hands at his abdomen where the bullet had hit him. Then slowly, as his knees gave way, he slid to the ground.
Vaguely, as he lay there, he heard hooves under him, and a jarring motion that tore at his abdomen. Then, he was conscious of nothing.
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When Aramis at last came back to consciousness, it was to a blurry green landscape.
Lying still, he waited until his vision gradually came back to him.
He was in a field. There was no one around as far as his eyes could see, just sheep. Of the group he had encountered at the farmhouse, both the bad ones and the farm couple, there was now no sign.
A cramp in his leg caused him to move, and instantly, his abdomen's pain increased.
Seeing the amount of blood under and around him, he realized he had better attempt to take care of the wound. He knew most people died of wounds in the abdomen. He was no fool, and knew how bad his chances were, when there was no one who could help him.
As he slowly moved enough to tear a piece from his shirt and began to wrap it around the wound, the pain ratcheted up even more, his breath coming now in gasps as he stubbornly tried to ignore it and continue. Once he was finished, he collapsed back to the ground, waves of nausea now joining the pain in his body.
He hoped the makeshift bandage would help to stem the bleeding, or he wouldn't ever make it out of this field alive.
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He had been drifting in and out of consciousness, not really knowing any more what day or time it was.
He knew he could die if he couldn't get up and out of the field and find help, but his body wouldn't allow him.
And that was when he heard movement close by.
