Tomas sat alone at the long table as the tavern patrons drank, ate, and continued their day without suspect. He looked up as Evan stepped and weaved between customers, grabbed a beer from the makeshift bar created by two barrels and a door. He took a long drink, wiped his upper lip, and nodded toward Tomas as he took a seat across from him. Evan's long blonde hair frayed from the ponytail he kept tied at the base of his skull. His stained jerkin smelled of sweat and the sleeves of his blouse were frayed near the cuffs. He was a big man, broad shouldered, with large callused covered hands.

"Well," Tomas asked, and rested his elbows on the table. "What did you discover?"

Evan smiled and exposed a gap between his two front teeth. The divot in his chin moved, and he licked his bottom lip. "Aramis enjoys his women," he quirked an eyebrow, "and they enjoy him. He rarely stays at the garrison —"

"Whores?"

Evan shook his head and chuckled. "Nobility mostly," he said. He looked over his shoulder as a table erupted in laughter. "Beautiful women who seem to enjoy his…" he shrugged, "boyish charm." He placed his pewter mug on the table, rested on his elbows, and leaned forward. "He'd be easy to target… his trust in the female counterpart is a weakness, and if we don't use it to our advantage, someone else will in time."

Tomas shook his head. "Like I've said before. We have other plans. The others?"

"Porthos gambles and seems to enjoy his good fortune." Evan smiled. "His size and strength are unmatched, and that gives him confidence." He relaxed his shoulders and resumed his previous position. "He enjoys his drink — not like Athos — but don't underestimate his desire for a night of overindulgence or his fighting skills… He's devoted to his friends and will be a challenge if provoked." He relaxed his shoulders and took a pull from his beer. "He's strong — it will take more than two of us to take him down and keep him down."

"Athos?" Tomas looked toward Evan. "Does he need the drink?"

Evan forced his lips into a scowl, grabbed the pewter cup, and shifted it across the surface of the table. "No, but he loses himself to it when the melancholy overtakes him — he tends to drink alone, but his friends stay close." He shrugged and licked the corner of his mouth. "I find it strange that his quarters are not at the garrison?" He looked to his left as a bar wench giggled when a stranger grabbed her buttock. "The others look to him for guidance — everyone at the garrison does. According to a few of the red guards, the musketeers would follow Athos to hell and back. He just need ask."

"You know of him?" Tomas asked, quirked an eyebrow, and tapped his finger on the table.

Evan nodded, chewed the inside of his bottom lip, and then ground his teeth. "He lives by his honor and his duty," he looked up and met Tomas' eyes, "he will not bend to your will — whatever you have planned, should not include him."

Tomas huffed. "He'll not be easy to compromise," he raised his eyebrows, "then we'll compromise his friends." He ran his hand long the wood grain of the table and turned as someone spit into a chalice. "The other one?"

"Farm boy from Gascony. He's skilled, but impulsive and in love with a married woman who can't decide if she wants him or not — frankly I find their relationship," Evan shrugged, "taxing. One minute they're apart, the next they're practicing hip thrusts."

"They're predictable," Tomas chuckled. "Predictability is good, Evan, no matter how many thrusts it takes." He finished his beer and watched as members of the red guard entered and ordered drinks. "What else?"

"Treville is stern, an old soldier with high expectations and gives allowances when needed. He's devoted to his king…" Evan raised his eyebrows, leaned over the table, and said, "trained the king as a boy in the art of swordsmanship — he's devoted to him."

Tomas pursed his lips and ran a hand over his face. "Is he aware of the threats against the king?"

"Not as yet." Evan relaxed his shoulders. "But if he learns of it," he arched his lips into a frown and shook his head, "he and his men will no doubt find the culprit." He rubbed the table with the flat of his thumb and felt along the indentations and scars. "They're all good men with convictions outside of our," he shrugged, "relaxed view of the law." He took a deep breath and twisted his mouth. "The main four are your biggest problem — but there isn't a man at the garrison who wouldn't break his own back for the king or for France."

Tomas nodded, rubbed his bottom lip, and stared at the hammered cup. "They cannot learn of the threats… my employer has made that abundantly clear." He exhaled slowly and glanced at the door as more patrons entered and exited.

"I've five former members of the red guard who will to join us." Evan chuckled, licked his lips and smiled. "Their animosity runs high. So much so that they were willing to offer a few insights into Aramis and Porthos — they've been musketeers longer than the other two. And, since the Spanish queen of France has grown quite fond of them — Aramis in particular since he saved her life — the red guard have turned their animosity toward the musketeers as the queen is untouchable." He shrugged. "The farm boy, d'Artagnan, is the king's champion." He raised his eyebrows and squared his shoulders. "If you don't kill him — and word of you and your scheme gets back to the king — they will hang you… or worse."

"Will the red guard be trustworthy?" Tomas asked and looked sideways toward the group of men who entered the tavern. "Just because they're bloodthirsty does not make them honorable."

"But it does make them expendable." Evan chuckled. "They're out for blood — and would provide an excellent distraction for the musketeers — if," he paused, "that is what you're thinking." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. "Your employer?" He looked up and met Tomas' eyes, "fear the musketeers will once again outshine him?" He ran his tongue over his front teeth and cocked an eyebrow. "Petty, isn't it?"

"It's the pettiness of pride that brings men to their knees, Evan, and the reason men like us are easily employable." Tomas handed Evan a sealed letter with Richelieu's stamp.

"Richelieu wrote this?"

Tomas quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. "There's a messenger within the king's company that will deliver this to Treville tomorrow morning — he'll be waiting for you by the rug merchant — the cardinal is out of town for the next few days so he will not be available to verify the contents of the letter until he returns." He said as he stood. He rested his hands on the edge of the table's ledge. "You'll be riding to Nivernais in the morning… use Baron Serres lands —"

"Omar is," Evan shook his head, "unstable at best — is that wise?"

"It's the reason you'll travel there he's… unassuming and easily swayed since the death of his wife. This," he pointed toward the letter, "will get the musketeers out of Paris — once they're out, I can place the remaining pieces into play… The baron has resources you can use until I arrive." He looked around the tavern and tapped his finger on the table. "The musketeers are the closest guards the king has," he met Evan's eyes, "perhaps we should encourage them to share the names of Cardinal Richelieu's finance intendants." He pushed himself off his palms. "I'm tired of living like a vagrant —"

"Tomas," Evan said, and brought him to a halt. "These men… despite what you think them capable of… Kill them outright. The longer you let them live, the more likely they are to escape. I've heard the stories, brother, the inseparables are known for having…" he paused and shrugged, "for having an unnatural gift for escaping death."

"I'm less interested in killing them." Tomas smiled and raised an eyebrow. "I'm more interested in learning what they know." He nodded and left.

Special thank you to the following who submitted comments... when I had to delete this story to try and repost, it deleted everything.

Beeblegirl, pallysAramisRios, and Musektball1: I hope to not disappoint any of you!