D'Artagnan watched his father panic as he followed the carriage that had come two months ago arrive again. He didn't leave when his father told him to. Not this time.
He snuck around the side of their small worn cottage and climbed up. It took a few leaps but he found a hole where the ceiling often leaked and peered down into it. Sure enough he saw the two men, one in black and one in red, as well as the woman in white.
"...Treville insists you come out of hiding." The man in red was saying. "You're the only one who can match the assassins blow for blow."
D'Artagnan's father chuckled bitterly. "Maybe before La Rochelle. Now? No, you seek to flatter me, Richelieu."
The man in grey spoke next, his tone impatient. "Still, it is your duty, Charles."
His father was still smiling, but his voice went cold, a borderline sneer. "Pere Josef, Comte Rochefort. Pretty titles, but what has a coward like you ever done to truly earn them?"
The man went to draw his blade, but the last in White stopped him.
"We're all templars here. Our cause is the same."
Richelieu nodded. "The Assassins have stoked the hearts of the Hueguenots. The longer we delay is the closer to our doom. If you can't help us, then who will?"
"My son. I taught him everything I know. I would need special dispensation for him, you eminence."
Josef tensed. "I would be better suited for..."
Richelieu cut him off with a gesture. "Draw him up his papers, Charles. Afterwards, have him show them to Treville. If he has them, he'll have his dispensation."
D'Artagnan watched his father nod. "May the father of understanding guide us."
Everyone else repeated the phrase and began to file out of the shack. Hastily, D'Artagnan clambered down from the roof.