Athos pushed past the guards and opened the doors to the library. General Raboin sat at his desk, his lieutenant next to him, peering over his shoulder at the maps.
"Your men are about to be slaughtered, General," Athos said. "What are your orders?"
Raboin widened his eyes and shook his head. "My orders are the same today as they were yesterday, Captain. Hold the line." He tossed his quill onto the desk with a flick of his wrist, and pushed himself away from the edge. "I find your defying of orders disgraceful… particularly for a man who wears the Musketeer uniform. Perhaps King Louis has permitted your insolence, but I will not. I expect my orders to be followed." He clenched his jaw as Athos continued to step toward them.
Grimaud grabbed the map and quickly rolled it. He glanced at Athos, and then stepped back, the map tightly held in his right hand.
"Who is leading this endeavor? You?" Athos looked at Grimaud, who returned his stare with a cold one of his own. "Or you?" He turned his attention to Raboin. "You will not have an army left, sir, if this continues. Your men are short on supplies —"
"Supplies are coming. Minister Treville," Raboin stood, shoved his chair back, and slapped his right palm on his desk, "has reassured me!" He clenched his hand and relaxed it to east the pain.
"You've been saying that for weeks!"
"I will not be spoken to in such a manner by you or by anyone, Captain Athos. My orders remain the same. Hold the damn line or I will find someone who can do what you cannot." Raboin stood erect and clenched his jaw. "This is war. Soldiers die in wars every day.—"
"Are you trying to convince me of that or yourself, General? You have repeatedly said as much! And I am well aware that we're at war. I'm also aware that men die. What I'm not familiar with is the disengagement of a general who has been known to lead his men into battle."
Raboin flared his nostrils and shifted uncomfortably. "What I was once capable of and what I'm capable of now is vastly different, Captain. While you see a lack of involvement… others see a planner. Had you not acted with such foolishness… we may have already defeated the Spanish. I will not be responsible for your foolish endeavors or feel guilty for doing what the king has asked that I do in the manner I see fit."
Athos frowned and looked at Raboin in question. "This isn't about your perceptions. The facts are that the Spanish now have a better trajectory on where your military camps are located," he glanced at the map Grimaud held and for a brief moment caught his eyes, "and, as I've stated before, General, your military will not survive against cannons."
Raboin retook his seat and inhaled deeply. "So be it," he said, grabbed his quill and resumed his letter writing. "Hold the line, Captain." He glanced upward. "If you're battling cannons… I would suggest you stay out of the way. The Spanish will simply run low on supplies… and when they do," he raised his eyebrows, "then you attack."
Grimaud stared at Athos and ground his teeth. "Perhaps a tea with that dose of humility, Captain?"
Athos looked at Grimaud and shook his head. "I'd rather have wine… the taste isn't as bitter." He looked Grimaud in the eyes.
"I've heard you favor wine," Grimaud said. He quirked the corners of his mouth.
"Yes," Athos relaxed and raised his right eyebrow. "I do favor wine, but not nearly as much as an assassin favors blood."
Grimaud frowned, tightened his hand on the map, and the parchment crinkled within his grasp. He avoided the look from Raboin as Athos nodded to both of them and then turned and left.