The breeze caused the smoke from the musket fire and cannon fire to drift and hang heavy in the lower valleys while escaping the higher peeks. The men could see pops of red from the ends of muskets in the distance as the regiment drew closer to General Raboin's encampment. The marksmen weren't fighting a battle, but rather, they were firing random warning shots as men positioned themselves in advance of the battles to come. Barely visible, the Spanish flag flew in the distance across the field, the gully, and was stationed on the mesa in the distance. Tree trunks, clustered branches, and smoke partially hid the red and white military flag that extended with the force of the winds. The Spanish fired their cannons as randomly as the French fired their muskets. They checked their trajectory and made adjustments as the winds changed and the men moved into positions.

"Captain?" a voice echoed briefly and was soon followed by a man astride a bay gelding with a narrow blaze. "Captain Athos?"

Athos pulled Kelpie to a stop and motioned with his hand for the regiment to halt their movements. He shifted in his seat and relaxed his shoulders as the man approached. "I'm Athos."

"I'm Captain Comtois of the fifth company under General Raboin. I'm here to escort you and your men to your camp — your detachment unit arrived earlier this morning and have set up your tent and the cook's tent. You can keep your horses in the rope corrals behind your encampment, and your men can set up their tents according to your instructions."

Comtois turned his horse and rode alongside Athos as they passed several companies. The men nodded, a few shouted in welcome, others simply ignored them and continued cooking their meals, washing their clothing and wrapping their blistered feet, while a few picked lice out of their hair. Even on horseback, Comtois looked tall and gangly, with long red hair pulled back with a strand of leather. Freckles covered his cheeks, nose, and forehead. His red beard was well trimmed and cut at a sharp angle around his jaw.

"General Raboin has been expecting you — he wants to see you as soon as you're able," Comtois said. He leaned forward, pushed his hands onto the pommel, and shifted uncomfortably. "The Spanish have been moving farther south and in the process they've crossed the French boundary, which is causing Generals Thorell, Raboin, and Vires to spread their military forces along the border."

"And the Dutch military?" Athos asked. "Where are they positioned? I last heard they were in Lens."

Comtois shook his head and with a long sigh said, "Fleurus, to hold the line against the Spanish as they continue to travel south. They want to be near Wiesloch by the end of the year." He rubbed his brow and pointed toward the large tent positioned behind the encampments.

Behind the tent, and across a basin, stood the Chateau de Fontaine. The large two-story building was surrounded with a wrought-iron fence that was covered with ivy which, in the coming months, when spring arrived, would turn green and voluminous as it continued to grow over the entry archway that framed the home's arched double doors and the massive window above it. Four chimneys were visible from the field where they rode, and every window was latticed and bordered with shutters. Stables were visible behind it, and the greenery of a painter's pallet — despite the cold as November neared — expanded beyond the home and up the mountain that dwarfed it.

"The general is staying in his quarters — he prefers to be away from his men." Comtois shrugged and cocked an eyebrow. "He says he needs to work where it's quiet. For now, at least —the Fontaine family has been allowed to stay at the chateau. I have not heard if they will leave should the fighting begin. You'll see the children occasionally peek over the fences to watch at us." He chuckled and quirked the right side of his mouth into a smile. "You and your men are stationed next to my company on the other side of the chateau — it's a decent area, plenty of trees for cover — and the men will have access to water. We are closer to the front lines than the others, but," he shrugged, "I'd rather have access to water — my men agree.

"You'll notice behind my and your encampments that refugees are moving in. Raboin has not requested they be escorted from the grounds, but it's only a matter of time before he does. He doesn't want his men distracted, and refugees are a distraction."

"Are they French or Dutch?" Athos asked and looked at Comtois, who looked at him, confused.

Comtois scratched his head and shrugged. "I think they're French. The northern cities were attacked in late September, the refugees have been arriving since then — started about a month ago. I have not engaged with them. They stay to themselves and have very little interaction with the men — at least from what I've seen."

Athos rubbed his jaw and turned to look at Porthos, who nudged his horse's sides and rode forward. "Take the men to our encampment. Have them set up their tents like we discussed." He leaned forward and spoke in a lower voice to Porthos. "Set up the medical tents behind mine —"

"All of them?" Porthos asked with a frown.

Athos nodded. "Aramis will know what to do."

Porthos nodded.

"The general is expecting you," Comtois said, and looked at Athos. "The captains meet on a daily basis to discuss the events near the border and the activities of the Spanish. I encourage you to join us if you can."

Athos nodded, shook Comtois' hand, and said, "Porthos will see to the men while I visit with the general."

Comtois nodded, looked at Porthos and nodded. "Welcome."

Porthos looked at Athos. "We'll see you shortly, Captain." He raised his hand and the regiment quickly followed while Athos rode toward the general's tent.

Porthos smiled as he entered their encampment. Gentry, who had arrived earlier with the detachment, was busy cooking outside his tent. He had set up an open cover to protect his supplies while he cooked over an open flame. The aroma wafted upward and rode a breeze to the regiment as they arrived. They all looked hungry, and Gentry smiled, waved, and motioned to the three long tables that were filled with food. Men at war ate when the food was available, and before the shortages developed.

In unison, the men dismounted, cinches were loosened, and bridles replaced with rope halters. The horses too needed a break after the long, hard ride to Verdun. The men erected their tents, prepared their bedrolls, and started small fires in preparation for the cold night that would soon be upon them.

Porthos walked to the edge of the camp, looked toward the Spanish flag that was barely visible, and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked to his right as Aramis stepped beside him. "Athos wants the medical tents erected behind his."

"The men are already putting them up," Aramis said. "It's getting cold," he tilted his head toward the refugee camp behind them, "they'll need a place to keep warm."

Porthos quirked an eyebrow and nodded. "I have a feeling that something bad is headed our way." He rubbed the back of his neck.

Aramis took a deep breath and watched as another cannon was fired. "Me too."