Athos entered the tent that had been erected for him and looked at Porthos, who pulled meat from a bone, d'Artagnan, who had kicked his feet up onto the chair across from him, and Aramis, who sipped at a glass of wine he had poured from a bottle of Athos' private store.

"Making yourselves at home, I see," Athos said and walked to his desk where he tossed his hat. He ran his fingers through his hair, rubbed the back of his neck, and took a deep breath.

"Everyone is settlin' in," Porthos said. "Gentry 'as got the food on the fire 'nd the men are slowly makin' their way to 'im as they complete their tasks. Levi an' Marc 'ave already dubbed one of the medical tents as a bathhouse." He shrugged and shook his head. "I'd rather eat first." He raised his finger into the air and said, "The problem with bein' the first to bathe in a regiment full of men who 'ave not bathed in weeks… is realizin' 'ow bad everyone smells." He laughed and with a devious smile said, "I figure it's time for 'em to be taught a thing or two about battlefield decorum."

Aramis snickered and raised his cup of wine. "Make them suffer."

D'Artagnan looked questionably at Porthos and Aramis and then rolled his eyes. "What's your first assignment under Raboin's command?" He asked. "Captain Comtois has a loose tongue," he looked at Aramis who nodded, "It seems Raboin is about as beloved as an abscessed tooth… the men say he's been troubled."

"Regardless," Athos said, and rubbed his face. "My first task is to evict the Fontaine family from their home." His statement, though matter-of-fact, was laced with frustration.

The eviction was nothing more than a test. Removing the Fontaine family from their home was unnecessary, regardless of how close the battles were. Generals did not dictate to nobility their living situation, instead, nobility had to decide for themselves when to stay, and when to fight for their homes and land. Nobility were many times the first line of defense for the king and his generals.

Aramis frowned, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. "So the prince can have a warm bed to sleep in every night?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Careful, Aramis," Athos warned. "Regardless of how the men feel about him or what we think we know," he rubbed the back of his neck as he draped his cloak on the back of his chair, "we still need evidence to prove his guilt, and regardless of his actions… if he is guiltless, then we have no grounds to move forward and will instead follow his orders and the Musketeers will do their best against the threat to France."

"You mean innocent?" Porthos asked with a frown. "You said guiltless — what did you mean by that?"

"None of us are innocent, Porthos. Raboin may not be committing treason or sedition, but that does not mean he is innocent of wrongdoing."

Porthos shrugged and shook his head. "If 'e's guilty… we'll find what 'e's guilty of."

"Would you like us to join you?" Aramis asked, and watched Athos flip through the maps that had been placed on his desk.

Athos thought for a long moment and then nodded. "Yes," he said.

"Levi and Marc?" Aramis stood, adjusted his weapons belt, and then looked at Athos, who quirked a smile.

"Let them bathe," Athos said. "They will regret it later." He quirked a subtle smile.

"I'll get the horses," d'Artagnan said and quickly left.

Porthos stood, finished his meal and slapped his belly. "Does this family 'ave someplace to go?"

Athos exhaled slowly. "I hope so."

"An' if they don't?" Porthos asked.

Athos looked to the flap of the tent as d'Artagnan peeked inside and said, "We may need to close the bathhouse… they can use it as their temporary living quarters."

"When the fighting starts, Athos, we'll need that tent for the injured," Aramis said, as he followed the others outside.

"It would be temporary," Athos said and took Kelpie's reins. "I would prefer them to stay where they would be safe — their home — but for now," he shrugged, "that tent will have to do." He mounted Kelpie and waited for the others to follow suit.

Athos looked toward the regiment as they set up their camp tents, started small fires, and made themselves as comfortable as they could while the threat of war lingered. Several men waved, nodded, and said, "Captain," as they rode by. A few gathered together to talk quietly, others took the time to appreciate the quiet solitude as the evening slowly encroached. Others watched the smoke from the Spanish cannons and French muskets as trajectories were calculated.

They rode through the Musketeer camp, and along the outskirts of Captain Comtois' company. The trees, despite having lost their leaves, stood strong amongst each other. Roots on the oak trees had risen above ground and crept like serpents around their bases. The broad branches of the sycamore trees stood out boldly amongst the forest. Fires sent sparks upward and through the branches. As night approached, the men would watch the red sparks slowly fade as they flew upward, only to stare at the stars and allow the moon's bright light to highlight the lives they now led. Athos' men were also preparing for the evening. Quietly eating, sharing stories around small fires, bathing from wooden buckets, and a few were having their hair cut. They looked as comfortable as men who had been fighting together for years. Brothers in arms, and bound to their duty and to their king.

The elegance of the chateau became more noticeable with the hint of red that hovered above the horizon. A forest of trees surrounded it, and it looked out of place amongst God's creation. Ivy had grown around the massive arched gate entrance and along the wrought-iron fence that ran along the front and behind a canal. The horses' hooves struck the stone pathway as they walked over the bridge and beneath the entry. The rose garden had been put to bed, and the base of the plants were surrounded with dried leaves and their stems had been cut back. The evergreen hedges were trimmed and ready for the winter months.

Athos pulled Kelpie to a stop and quickly dismounted. He spotted one of the Fontaine children peek around a bush and look at him and the others. The boy quickly disappeared as the front doors to the chateau opened.

"May I help you?" The woman said. She was older. Her long gray hair was braided into a serpentine loop around the back of her head. She dried her hands on a stained apron tied around her robust waist.

"I'm Captain Athos of the King's Musketeers. We're here on behalf of General Raboin. Is Monsieur Fontaine available?"

The woman frowned, swallowed, and then nodded. "He's at the stables around back." She pointed her finger to the back of the chateau.

Athos nodded. "Thank you."

Aramis, who had dismounted, gripped his horse's reins, nodded toward the woman and followed Athos with Porthos and d'Artagnan trailing behind. They walked around the chateau and were surprised to see the expansive stables and the well-bred, copper-colored draft horses, with blonde manes and tails, and thick necks. The horses peered out of their stalls and perked their ears forward as the newcomers entered the courtyard. Two drafts stood tied to the posts outside their stalls. A tall man with wavy brown hair moved between them. He quietly spoke, scratched their withers, gently ran his hand along their backs, rumps, and along their tails as he moved from one mare to the next.

"Monsieur Fontaine?" Athos said and pulled Kelpie to a stop. He looked at Aramis and then handed Kelpie's reins to d'Artagnan. "You and Porthos wait here."

Aramis tied his mount to a hitching pole and walked with Athos to the draft horses. Piers Fontaine stepped from between the mares and tossed a damp cloth into a bucket.

"May I help you?"

"Monsieur Fontaine?" Athos said and paused when he glanced to his right and a sizable man stepped from the shadows of the stable. The man looked at Piers and leaned the rake he had been using against a stall wall. He stood a head taller than Porthos, broader through the shoulders, with well-defined muscles on his forearms. He was bald, with large brown eyes, and a well-trimmed beard and mustache. Despite his size and bald head, the family likeness was noticeable.

"I'm Piers," the man between the horses said. He looked at his brother who continued to walk toward them. "What can I do for you?" He looked at Athos.

Athos exhaled slowly and introduced himself and the others. "I've been ordered to inform you that General Raboin will require your chateau for the duration of his stay in Verdun —"

"I told you!" the big man shouted in a voice that resembled a deep growl. He rushed forward. In spite of his size, he hastened quickly, and with purpose.

"Walnut, don't!" Piers stepped backward when his two horses shifted their hips and blocked his view.

Athos and Aramis both took several steps back in defense and raised their hands. Suddenly, the man grabbed Athos around his neck with one hand, picked him off his feet, and pushed him against the wall of the feed barn.

"He will not take our home!" The big man shouted. Spittle flew from between his lips, he clinched his jaw, flared his nostrils, and tightened his fingers around Athos' throat.

Aramis pulled his sword and threatened to strike.

Piers pushed himself between the horses, rushed for his brother, and stood between Walnut and Aramis. "Walnut, let him go!" He grabbed Walnut's arm. "Walnut!" He looked toward the musketeers. "Don't hurt him — he doesn't know his own strength. Walnut!"

Athos struggled, grasped Walnut's arms with both hands, and tried to force the man to release him. He shuffled his feet, striking the back of the barn with his heels, as Aramis joined Piers in trying to pull Walnut off. Each took an arm and tried prying him away. Porthos dropped his horses' reins and ran toward them. He pulled his weapon, and was followed closely by d'Artagnan.

"Let 'im go!" Porthos shouted. He tightened his grip around his pistol, clenched his jaw, and winced when he couldn't get a clear shot.

"Walnut! I said let him go!" Piers demanded and caught his brother's eyes. "Please!"

Just as quickly as Walnut had grabbed Athos, he released him. Dropping him like a sack of grain, and watched him fall to the ground. Athos struggled to his knees, grasped his neck with his right hand and steadied himself with his left. He choked and coughed several times while gasping for breath. He spit, wiped his mouth, and then leaned back on his haunches. With both hands on his thighs, he looked toward the ground, and collected his breath.

"Athos," Aramis said. He squatted and gasped Athos' shoulder and tried to look at his neck.

Athos slowly caught his breath, grasped Aramis' arm, and nodded. "I'm fine. Porthos, put your weapon down… Porthos!" He raised himself to his right knee, rested his elbow upon it, and rubbed his neck. Aramis still next to him, kept his grasp on his shoulder.

Porthos took a deep breath and slowly returned his weapon to his belt. He stood watchfully next to Aramis and Athos, and glared at Walnut.

"Can you breathe?" Aramis said, and kept his attention on Athos, but was aware of Walnut's presence behind him.

"I'm… fine," Athos reassured with a nod, and with Aramis' help, slowly stood. He continued to rub his neck as he looked at Piers. He felt Aramis tighten his grasp on his arm in reassurance, and then slowly release him.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Piers said and with a frown motioned for Walnut to stand back. "My brother is protective of myself and my family, surely you can understand his concern when we're asked to leave our home — none of us could bear to see anything happen to him because of this — he would not normally attack anyone unless he believes us threatened."

"They're trying to take our home!" Walnut said. Then, in frustration, he punched a hole the side of the barn, causing the wood to snap beneath his blow. "Don't speak of me as though I'm not here!"

Athos coughed again, wiped his mouth, and looked at Walnut, who struggled to keep his temper in check. Athos cleared his throat and nodded. "I have no ill will, Monsieur, against you or your brother. It's not my request that you leave your home, but I've been given the orders to carry them out." He coughed again, spit, and then wiped his lips. "At least until you can find someplace else to go, there is a sizable tent in the Musketeer encampment that you and your family are welcome to use — at least temporarily."

Piers clinched his jaw, raised his arm up as Walnut took another step forward. "My horses… My family has heirlooms, and my wife will be beside herself to abandon them. This home has been in my family for generations… surely you can understand my concerns." He looked at the chateau, the trees he had climbed as a boy, the stables where he raised his horses, and the hills behind his home where he had hunted. "I cannot leave my horses."

Athos raised an eyebrow. "I was ordered to remove you from the residence… I was not ordered to oversee what you'll be taking with you."

Piers looked at Athos, and within a moment of understanding, he nodded. "How soon do we need to depart?"

Athos swallowed, wiped his lips again with his left hand, and said, "Tomorrow morning." He cleared his throat once more. "Your horses will be safe with the Musketeer remounts and whatever it is your wife feels the need to bring," he shrugged, "makes no difference to me." He slapped Aramis' hand away as he tried to pull back the collar of Athos' doublet.

"My daughters?"

Athos quirked his lips, looked side-eyed at Aramis, who shrugged, and chuckled. "The Musketeers will treat them as their own daughters, Monsieur — and they too are welcome to take whatever it is they cannot depart without."

"Piers, please, call me Piers."

D'Artagnan frowned and said, "Walnut… it's an unusual name?" He shifted uncomfortably behind Athos and watched Walnut turn his brown eyes toward him. D'Artagnan swallowed and instinctively stepped back.

"Show the gentlemen," Piers said, and motioned with his hand for Walnut to display his ability.

Walnut frowned, cliched his jaw, and then bowed his head. Within moments, his bald head took on the shape of a walnut, the bumps of his scalp shifted and formed into small rises and dips. Even as he stood, his face angered and red, the protrusion of the shapes became more evident.

"My brother is what my mother always called her miracle child." Piers looked at his brother, who rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "He's never had hair," Piers said and then patted Walnut on his shoulder. "When he was a boy — just a baby, my father said he had the head of Walnut when he was angry." He chuckled and then shrugged. "He's not a violent man."

Aramis raised his right eyebrow in disbelief.

"He's as devoted to my family as you are to your king." He looked at Athos. "He meant no offense in attacking you."

"I can speak for myself," Walnut said. "Anyone goes near one of my nieces," he looked them each in the eye, "you'll wish you'd died in the womb."

"So…" Aramis shrugged his shoulders, glanced at Athos' neck, and said, "violence is just something that —"

"He's protecting his family, Aramis," Athos said.

"Perhaps his strength will come in handy one day," d'Artagnan said and then stepped aside when Porthos threw him a side-eyed glance.

"He's a good man," Piers said. "Just do not try to harm one of us." He smiled genuinely and then grasped Walnut's shoulder and motioned for him to return to his duties in the stable. "We'll be ready to depart first thing tomorrow, and if, Captain," he rubbed his jaw and scratched at the stubble near the end of his beard, "if you wouldn't mind being here to escort us to the tent… I would greatly appreciate it — I hate to say it — and I despise gossip, but the rumblings about General Raboin are anything but favorable."

Athos nodded. "As soon as possible, Piers, we'll make sure you get your home returned to you."

Piers paused for a long moment, looked hard at Athos, and then said, "Something about your countenance makes me believe you."