Thank you everyone. PallysAramisRios and MountainCat for letting me know the story was down again last night! And Helensg and Suzy Apple for some info about AO3 - I'm on the waiting list. I'm still crossing my fingers things here will straighten out. I'm posting early as I normally do on Fridays. Three more chapters will be posted tomorrow after sundown.

In the meantime... onward we go!

Athos walked back to camp. With his right hand gripping Kelpie's reins and his left on the hilt of his sword, his strides increased in determination and resilience. It was the silence that concerned him the most. The lack of musket fire, the lack of explosive cannons in the distance, and the lack of orders and shouts echoing across the grounds. The lack of noise from the battlefield sent chills down his spine, even the lack of smoke when the wind caught it and forced it beyond the battlefield and into the forest beyond the camp, and when it hovered like mist within the branches of trees.

The men in the fields waited, while those fortunate enough to return, eat, and sleep, sat by their night fires and told stories, shared their meals, and stared at the flames. Kelpie nudged Athos' right shoulder and kept in stride with him. The big black perked his ears forward and focused his attention on the line by Gentry's food tent. Rationing had started, but Gentry continued to work his magic by forging for mushrooms and nuts. They weren't starving, but the potential was there should the shipments not arrive from Paris.

"Captain!"

The faint but familiar voice sounded to Athos' left, and he looked toward the night fires to find the voice.

Jacques waved, stood, and then called again, "Captain!" He looked toward the men he was seated with. "Can we ask you a question?"

Athos took a deep breath and walked with Kelpie toward Jacques' tent. He nodded to the men and recognized Labarr, the young man whose father had built bridges, and Laury, the shortest musketeer in the regiment who had helped save the king's life. "Gentlemen," he said and nodded.

Empty plates of food rested by their feet on the ground and on a vacant stump across from him. A pile of wood was slowly feeding the fire, and the tree next to them helped block the breeze that persisted throughout the night.

"What is it?"

Jacques rubbed his thighs, shrugged his shoulder, and cleared his throat. "The boys and I have made a wager?" He shifted nervously as he glanced from Athos to those beside him.

Athos cocked his left eyebrow and lowered his chin. "And?"

"It's not not a big wager — just based on something we've all heard," Jacques paused and swallowed, "you don't have to tell us, sir, we just —"

"Jacques, what is your question?" Athos said. He didn't mean to sound impatient, but given the young man's skill at dragging out a question, much less a story, it would be days before he was able to return to his tent.

"There's a rumor going around that you ran naked through the Chateau de Chenonceau," Jacques said the words and squinted with a pained expression as he looked at Athos.

Athos shrugged and pulled Kelpie back when he noticed Labarr had not finished his meal.

"Some of the men don't believe you would have done such a thing while others," Jacques shrugged, "think that you might have." He bit the inside of his cheek.

"And you believe?"

"I think you did, sir?" Jacques blurted. He exhaled slowly, and then suddenly relaxed his shoulders.

"You think I would run naked through a chateau?" Athos raised an eyebrow. If Jacques could, he would have hidden behind the rock he had been sitting on. Athos frowned and cocked his head when Laury fed Kelpie a piece of bread to ease his discomfort.

Laury chuckled and rubbed Kelpie's muzzle. He tried to ignore the situation.

"Don't encourage him," Athos said, and shook his head.

"I think you would have — if your duty called for it," Jacques said stoutly.

Athos quirked a smile and looked at all of them. "How much did you wager?"

"Three livres, sir." Again Jacques shrugged and then motioned toward those he sat with. "They don't believe you would have done such a thing."

"I did run through the Chateau de Chenonceau, but I wasn't naked — half naked would be more appropriate."

Laury chuckled and shook his head. "Why would you do such a thing?"

The others around the fire watched their captain and listened intently.

"We were looking for a ledger," Athos said.

"It must have been an important ledger, sir," Labarr said.

"It was — at the time," Athos said. He pulled on Kelpie's reins again, and said, "If you hear any more rumors — ask Aramis or Porthos," as he walked away and said over his shoulder, "they might give you more details."[1]

Jacques smiled, motioned with his hand for his winnings, and said, "I knew it!"

Again, the others chuckled and dug into their pockets.

Athos handed Kelpie's reins to Musketeer Billy. "Where was he this afternoon?" He said and motioned with his thumb toward Kelpie. "I had to borrow another horse."

Billy winced and said, "He ah," he scratched his head, "managed to open the gate to the corral — I spent a few hours chasing horses. I finally caught him at the river where he was playing in the water." He tightened his hold on Kelpie's reins. "It's probably why he's gelded, sir. The damn horse would probably organize an offensive if he wasn't."

Athos chuckled. "You're probably right." He clapped Billy on the back of the shoulder and walked to his tent. He could see the flickering of light from a lantern and he opened the flap and found several captains waiting for him.

"Gentlemen," Athos said. He unbuckled his weapons belt and placed it on his cot and then stood behind his desk. "What can I do for you?" He rubbed his face and took a deep breath.

"Raboin is unstable, unreasonable, and a threat to France — if he continues in the manner that he has — we may face a deadly spring." Captain Fain paused and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the others. "We're at war with too few men to defend the northeastern border — Raboin knows this — and dare I say it," he clinched his jaw and then tighten his hand around the hilt of his sword, "I believe he has planned it this way."

"We're in the middle of winter, low on supplies, and I for one, will not stand by and allow my men to suffer a fate of death." Captain Duris said. He shifted his feet and looked at the simplicity of Athos' tent.

"I will not discuss a mutiny," Athos said and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If we combine our efforts — physicians, supplies, and care for the refugees —"

"The refugees are a part of the problem," Captain Guidry said. He stood with his arms over his broad chest. His long, black hair was bound at the base of his neck, and his long beard was cut blunt near his sternum. Hooded blue eyes glanced from Athos to those in the room. "We cannot continue to care for them in the manner they have become accustomed."

Athos huffed and looked at him. He placed his right hand on his desk and leaned forward. "The refugees have become an essential part of our regiments. Not only are they chopping wood, foraging for food, washing and darning clothing, and assisting our cooks." He looked at each of them critically. "The more that arrive, the more information we can gather about local support —"

"The locals will not support Raboin, Athos. He has offended and outraged the local nobility — even those who refuse to leave their lands and will fight to the death to defend it. If Raboin was on fire… the locals wouldn't bother to piss on him to extinguish the flames." Comtois said. He shifted Athos' weapons belt and then took a seat on the cot. Comtois rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

"I will not abandon the refugees," Athos said. He crossed his arms over his chest and then rubbed the right side of his cheek.

"Several of my men have come down with winter fever… several others are coughing." Captain Guidry said. "We're running out of medical supplies."

The others nodded.

"Where is Captain Boucher?" Athos asked.

"Captain Boucher is of the belief that Raboin is doing the best he can under the circumstances," Guidry said. He adjusted his position and shifted his weight to his left leg.

"What do you want us to do?" Comtois said. He raised his hands in question and leaned back.

Athos parted his lips in question and then frowned. "I'm not your general, nor do I have the —"

"You have more authority than the rest of us, Athos," Comtois said. "Raboin knows you have the ear of the king and if the king trusts you, so do we. I'm not willing to stand by and allow my men to be slaughtered or starved because of a general's incompetency. I fight for France. I fight for the king. I will fight for you, but I will not surrender to Raboin's unjust requests."

Athos rubbed between his eyes and clinched his jaw several times as he heard the others agree with Comtois' remarks.

"Think about it tonight," Duris said. "But tomorrow — we need to know how to move forward." He turned and left the tent while the others quietly followed.

Athos took a seat, rested his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his forehead. He could hear his heart beat, the rush of blood through his veins, and the grinding of his teeth as he listened to the faint cracks and flickers of the lantern on his desk. The men outside were still chatting, the fires were still burning, and the scent of Gentry's cooking wafted throughout the air. It was a welcomed scent compared to gunpowder and horseshit. He looked up when the tent flap opened and Aramis stepped inside.

"You need to rest," Aramis said. "You look tired."

Athos nodded and said, "We all need to rest." He took a deep breath and pushed himself back against the chair and shifted his feet forward. "How many men are we down?"

Aramis sat on the edge of Athos' cot and ran his fingers through his hair. He yawned suddenly, covered his mouth with his hand, and shook his head. "It was a quiet day. Edward and Nathanial are both returning to duty in the morning —"

"You removed someone's limb just hours ago. Who was it?"

Aramis shook his head and said, "One of Captain Duris' men… was hit on the battlefield with a musket that shattered both bones below his left calf." He looked at Athos and then rubbed his temple. "I was the closest… he would have bled to death if he hadn't been brought to our medical tents."

Athos nodded. He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked passed Aramis toward the tent exit. "Raboin is threatening the refugees —"

"More arrived tonight," Aramis said. "Porthos is helping them get settled. More are expected in the days to come."

Athos closed his eyes and muttered, "Damn it."

Aramis chuckled. "It could be worse."

"It may very well end up worse if we run out of the supplies we have."

The echo of coughing resounded as d'Artagnan entered the tent. He shrugged, ran his fingers through his hair, and coughed once more. "We have two horses that were injured on the battlefield today — neither will survive the night."

Aramis looked at Athos and shrugged. "It's not ideal, but they would provide some meat for the men… at least a small amount for each of them."

D'Artagnan nodded. "Both can be slaughtered… Walnut has offered to help us and Gentry knows what he's doing…" He coughed again, and this time turned away from both of them. The wet cough caused Aramis to stand and walk toward him.

"How long has this been going on?" Aramis asked and, without invitation, placed his hand on d'Artagnan's forehead. "You're feverish," he turned and looked at Athos, "winter fever is making its way through camp. He needs bedrest and teas —"

"I'm fine?" d'Artagnan said and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You're not fine." Athos winced and looked at Aramis. "He's on the sick list until the fever clears —"

"I'm fine," d'Artagnan said. "It's just a cough."

"I'm not explaining to Constance that her husband died of an unacknowledged cough and poor judgment."

D'Artagnan cocked an eyebrow and then rolled his eyes.

"He's right," Aramis said. "And, knowing Constance, she would remove your blade from your grave and replace it with a sign that read," he indicated with his cupped hand the writing on the board, "damn fool." He placed his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder and shoved him toward the exit. "Your tent or the sick tent?"

D'Artagnan grumbled something and shoved the tent flap aside as he exited.

Aramis followed, paused at the exit, and then said to Athos, "You need to rest."

"Whatever you need, Aramis, I will not face the wrath of Constance." Athos quirked a smile and watched Aramis nod in understanding and leave.

[1] See "The Plessis Ledger"