It's been a busy day at work and I wanted to get these posted before time got away from me. Thank you everyone for your wonderful support. I will do my best to reach out to all of you who have left comments, but it might take me a little longer than what I like.

There's so much more to come!

Athos rested on his knees. He grasped the hilt of his sword that pierced the ground before him and rested his forehead on his wrists. He breathed through his mouth as he worked to catch his breath and regain his strength. He had expected the battle to last a few hours. It had lasted two days. Mud was splattered across his face, neck, and matted in his hair. His hands shook, his lungs burned, and his pulse pounded through his veins. He looked across the expansive field as the fighting continued. The men's movements were slower, more calculated, and less determined. Exhaustion, hunger, and time were proving to be the greatest threats.

The beauty of the morning contradicted the battlefield he stood in. Men lay in heaps, some crawled to safety, others cried for their mothers, lovers, and children. A few prayed, while others struggled stoically to their feet as the weight of mud, rain, and weariness cursed their bones and their muscles. It was a stoic act.

Athos looked to his right as Aramis swung his sword and caught his assailant beneath his chin. The man fell backward, grasped at his neck, and pushed himself backward with the heels of his boots. Aramis looked up, caught sight of something, and then Athos watched in horror as a pistol was fired and Aramis jolted backward, arms flung to his sides, and he fell back into the trench, disappearing from view.

"Aramis!" Athos struggled to his feet. He gasped for breath, and then forced his thighs that burned from exhaustion and screamed for relief, into action. He fell forward, braced himself with his left hand, and kept his hold on the hilt of his weapon with his right. Again, he pushed himself upward, pulled his sword from the ground, inhaled deeply, and then shouted, "Aramis!"

"Captain!" Jacques called, and rushed toward him from the southern side of the battlefield. He waved his arms as though running through water and struggled to keep his feet beneath him as each step caused him to sink deeper into the muddied ground.

"Aramis!" Athos shouted again and continued his efforts toward the trench.

"The Spanish have sent a messenger… their General has requested to see you!" Jacques shouted and finally pulled himself to a halt. "Sir." He gasped for breath and looked at Athos, who continued to stare at the trench. "Captain!" He shouted louder.

Athos, wide eyed, turned and looked at the young man.

"The Spanish General wants to meet with you?"

"Why me?"

Jacques shrugged and then pointed toward the southern ridge. "Captains Comtois, Pruette, Duris and Guidry are all present, but the Spanish want to see you."

"Captain Fain?"

"Injured, sir. He's being seen to by a physician."

Athos looked again at the trench in the distance and felt his heart clench.

"Comtois believes it is a potential cease-fire." Jacques looked in the direction that Athos was preoccupied with. "Captain? Are you hearing me? This might be a potential cease-fire!"

Athos rubbed his face and then pointed toward the trench. "Check on Aramis… I saw him… I saw him fall." He slipped his sword back into its scabbard.

Jacques nodded. "Of course, sir." He pointed toward the ridge again. "They're expecting you."

Athos clapped Jacque's shoulder and nodded. "See to Aramis."

Jacques nodded, watched Athos struggle to his right and then battle the mud as he walked to the south of the battlefield. He turned occasionally and glanced at the trench.

There were moments when the conflicts of doing what was right and doing what was needed outweighed everything else. A cease-fire would allow the men to rest, eat, collect their injured, and their dead.

Athos rubbed his neck as he walked along the outer ridge of the ongoing battle. The fighting had become less severe, but the men continued as ordered. The clangs of swords, grunts and groans of men, and the slaps and suctions of mud continued.

"Captain," Billy said as he trotted toward him with Kelpie in tow. The big black followed at a leisurely gait, ears perked forward, and his head raised. "Your horse, sir."

Athos paused and looked at him. It took a moment to understand why the boy had run toward him with his horse in tow and when he realized, he nodded, grabbed the reins and then slowly hefted himself into the saddle. Kelpie arched his neck and pranced forward.

"Good luck, sir," Billy said and stood back. He dusted the flanks of his doublet and placed his hands on his belt as he watched Athos nudge Kelpie's sides and gallop toward the meeting site.

Men paused in their actions as they turned to watch. Even the Spanish halted and turned in the direction where the Spanish flag flew, while below it rode the general of the Spanish forces and his aides. Several men sat astride their horses behind him. Across from them, the distance of the battlefield rested the French flag and several captains astride their horses. Breaths were held, shoulders held tight, and knees and thighs shook from exhaustion.

Athos pulled Kelpie to a stop and looked at the captains. "Where is General Raboin?"

Captain Comtois shook his head, shifted forward on his seat, and then pointed toward the chateau in the distance. "The Spanish have asked to see you — not the general."

"I have no authority—"

"General Sanchez has asked to see you, Athos," Captain Duris said. He held his reins and rubbed his thumb across the smooth leather. He looked toward the Spanish General who remained statuesque with the sun shimmering off his armor. "If the general were worth his salt, perhaps the enemy might ask to meet with him but right now," he shifted on his saddle and shifted his heels downward in the stirrups, "he wants to speak with you and I for one think you should meet with him." He pointed toward the battlefield and the men who watched and waited. "We need a reprieve… even a short one."

Athos clenched his jaw, looked toward the general, and then toward the men he had trained and those that fought alongside them. He nodded, nudged his mount's sides, and walked forward. The captains followed, each held their position in military formation as they rode behind Athos, and motioned toward their men to wait.

When the Spanish general rode forward alone, leaving his men behind, Athos paused and looked toward Comtois, who rode beside him.

"Wait here," Athos said with a sharp nod.

Comtois nodded and then turned toward the others, who also halted their horses and waited.

Athos rode forward and then pulled his horse to a stop when he came alongside General Sanchez, who looked at him and then at those a short distance behind them. He was older, with silver streaks through his dark hair, crows feet at his eyes, and around his mouth. A long scar ran from the corner of his right eye and disappeared into his hairline. He was clean shaven with a strong jaw and thin, narrow lips. There was not a speck of mud on his armor that shined against the sun.

In broken French, the Sanchez said, "I wanted to meet the man who organized an attack on Spanish soil."

Athos shifted and said, "You're standing on French soil, General. And your men," he motioned to the ridgeline behind the general, "are standing on the lands belonging to the Dutch Republic."

"The Dutch have yet to gain their independence, Captain, and while they may have the French to assist them on their journey toward it, they have also failed to recognize a few skirmishes will not detour King Philip."

Athos inhaled deeply through his nostrils and looked at the general in the eyes. "Why is it you requested to see me, General, and not General Raboin?"

"General Raboin and I have fought many times, and he has yet to impress me." Sanchez paused and looked at Athos. "You and your men slipped behind enemy lines —"

"You were under manned."

Sanchez chuckled and adjusted the reins in his grip. "You didn't know that…" he paused, "even so — Raboin did not have the men to combat me head-on." He cleared his throat, looked straight ahead, and said, "But, when a captain outmaneuvers my men." He choked back a chuckle and shook his head. "I knew it wasn't Raboin — the man only knows how to use military tactics he is comfortable with — none of which," he looked at Athos, "are original." He raised his eyebrows and looked across the battlefield.

"I'm asking you, as a man of honor — a Musketeer no less," Sanchez said, "to allow us time to collect our dead and our wounded without threat. My men are tired, and see neither side," he looked hard at Athos, "winning this battle."

Athos clinched his jaw several times and his jaw muscles flexed and relaxed. "I cannot make guarantees on behalf of General Raboin, General…" he pulled back on Kelpie's reins as the big horse took a step forward, "but I can make the request on your behalf."

Sanchez huffed, shook his head, and leaned forward with his forearms on the pommel of his saddle. "Raboin is about as trustworthy as a viper. If King Louis' Musketeers keep their word and do not strike against my forces, I will agree to a temporary cease-fire." He pointed toward the captains, who stood watch a few lengths behind Athos. "If they agree to my terms, we can all have a bit of time to," he shrugged, "reassess the situation."

"Two weeks," Athos said. "We will agree not to strike for two weeks."

"That is a lot of time," Sanchez said. He rubbed his jaw, squinted when the sun hit his eyes, and then nodded. "Once the field is cleared, you will not see a Spanish soldier for two weeks."

"Why all the cannons?" Athos asked.

Sanchez quirked a smile and said, "If I tell you that, Captain, you may learn too quickly my military tactics."

"I know your tactics, General," Athos said. "Why so many cannons…? I would expect them in the north."

General Sanchez took a deep breath and looked at Athos. "Two weeks, Captain." He turned his horse and slowly rode back to his awaiting entourage. He turned in his saddle, placed his left hand on the horse's rump and said, "I look forward to fighting you again — but this time, I'll be more prepared."

Athos exhaled, turned, and returned to the captains. "We have a cease-fire," he said and looked toward the field of men who watched intently. "Collect your injured and your dead."