D'Artagnan was glad that Athos hadn't bothered to keep his trail hidden, and so it was easy to follow the hoof prints. He pushed his horse as fast as it could run, knowing that Athos had a good head start. It took him a couple of hours, a few stops to read the sometimes confusing trails, to catch up with Athos, and apparently Porthos, who rode beside him. Once he recognized the two horses in front of him, he called out.

"ATHOS! PORTHOS!"

At the sound of the voice of their brother the riders stopped and turned around, sharing a relieved smile to see the Gascon up and well. Gladly they've headed in Treville's direction first, deciding that the older man may need more help than the young Musketeer, who was the best horseman of them all. They waited for d'Artagnan to completely catch up with them, before slapping his shoulder in greeting.

"Are you well?" Athos asked directly, his eyes scanning the Gascon's body with concern, who nodded with a small smile.

"I've managed to hide and escaped untouched. Not like Porthos, I guess?" He frowned once he noticed Porthos' exhausted experience and small trickle of blood on the side of his neck which had to come from a head wound.

Porthos grumbled at this and assured that he was fit enough, even though the slightly dozed gaze spoke differently. D'Artagnan was worried for their big friend just as Athos, but there were more urgent matters right now.

"You're searching for Treville?" He then made sure, which the other two confirmed.

TRAITORTRAITORTRAITORTRAITORTRAITORTRAITORTRAITORTRAITORTRAITORTRAITOR

After he had climbed on the tree and hid there, Treville watched the Guardsmen following his horse. But it wasn't long after that they noticed that it's rider was gone and took the same way back, separating slightly to find the First Minister, or better 'former' Minister, because he had surely lost his title with deceiving the King.

He watched with a dreading feeling, how the men now started to get a lot more intelligent than he had previous thought them to be. Besides the undergrowth and the path's they also looked into the trees and Treville knew that there was no chance he would be overseen once they came closer. He gripped the hilt of his dagger slowly, making a decision in seconds. It's always better to be the first to attack to have the effect of surprise on your side.

Even though his aim was not as perfect as Aramis', the dagger he threw found it's mark in the chest of the first Red Guard. Before the soldier beside his dying comrade could even look out for the attacker a bullet pierced his stomach, rendering him useless.

The shot was enough to give away Treville's hiding place and the Red Guards both aimed towards the tree. Treville jumped down before a bullet could hit him and pulled out his rapier. Fortunately both Red Guards had tried to shoot at the moving Treville and were now also down to use just their rapiers and daggers.

As the three men circled each other, Treville calculated his chances. Two against one had normally been a fight he would have taken gladly and with ease. But years out of the active service and age had made his muscles stiffer than usual, even though he had tried to train every now and then. In the mornings he felt a familiar arch in his back and shoulders and he'd noticed that his reflexes had become slower than they once had been. In front of him now stood two young and fit soldiers, maybe not as skilled as Musketeers, but whatever they liked to think of the Cardinal's men, the Red Guards were trained soldiers nevertheless.

However he parried the first stroke with ease, swirled around and attacked the other Guard. They exchanged a few fast strokes before Treville managed to hit one of them on the arm. It wasn't a deep enough cut to really stop the man but it was enough to surprise him and give Treville some time to concentrate on his other opponent.

He thought he held his ow quite well for a time, even though his breath was now coming in quick gasps and his muscles burned from the exertion. However he was still one man less than his opponents and had only his rapier left while the Red Guards had both, rapiers and daggers. This was what became his doom.

He was parrying one hard stroke and could not turn enough fast enough before a dagger was pushed through his skin, ripped muscles apart and finally stuck as it hit a rib. Treville grunted in pain and his left leg almost gave in. He somehow managed to stay upright, but now every stroke was followed by an agonizing fire in his side.

He did not quite know how, but somehow he managed to push his rapier through the chest of one of the men, killing him on the spot. Before his body fell to the ground, Treville pulled the man's dagger out of it's hand and now turned to his last opponent with a grin, teeth shining red in the midday sun.

He noticed, with a wave of joy, that the last standing man was the youngest of the Guards and now his determination had been replaced with fear as he looked around at his three death comrades.

In all his fury and fear the young an lunged forward and pushed Treville to the ground with a strangled yell. For a second, Treville saw nothing but blackness as pain was all he felt. His awareness came back once hands were wrapped around his throat, strangling him. He gasped and tried to get air to fill his lungs, his right hand grabbing and pushing at the offending hands while his other one was grasping on the dagger with determination.

As his vision got a black edge to it, he made his last move. He plunged the dagger into the Red Guard's side causing him to gasp, then pulled it out and then plunged it into the weakened man's stomach. With a gurgled yelp, the Red Guard let go of Treville's throat and fell to his side, hands grasping desperately at the bloody wound.

Treville sighed contently, knowing that he had eliminated the threat towards his Musketeers.