Authors Note: This is Porthos centric, but they all get whumped. It is complete, I will post a chapter a day (real life permitting). There are eleven chapters.
Prologue
A freezing breeze swirled the piece of paper around and around in the corner opposite. The little boy watched it, wide-eyed. The paper danced and jumped about for a few seconds before it floated down to the dirty ground as the breeze faded away.
The boy turned back to look at the doorway, he wished he could find somewhere better to sit for the night-time. But all the other nooks and crannies were already occupied. No one would share with him. The doorway was the next best place he had found. He returned to the doorway each night, sitting on the top step, pushed as far out of the wind as he could get.
He knew it was not wise to settle on the ground. If it rained the water would find him, even if he was undercover. It would seep into his clothes leaving him shivering even more than he knew he would be anyway.
The boy unfolded his tatty blanket. His one possession. He knew to never leave his blanket. It would be stolen. He carefully lay the blanket on the step so that he could curl up on top of it with enough spare to pull over him. He shifted about a little, tucking his feet in as far as he could, wrapping his arms around his knees.
The breeze picked up again, but he did not feel it as harshly this time. Not now he was tucked into his doorway, his protective blanket covering him. The piece of paper began its dance a second time. The little boy watched it for a few seconds before something else drew his attention.
Something was moving at the end of the street. He could not make it out properly. But he saw that it was coming closer. Its movements were smooth as though it was floating.
The little boy wanted to look away if he looked away perhaps the thing would not be there when he looked back. But he could not look away, his eyes were fixed on the thing.
The thing was looking back at him. But not with two eyes. The thing had lots of eyes that blinked and shone.
The little boy knew the thing had seen him.
It was heading straight for him.
MMMM
Chapter One
A spring shower sent the courtiers back into the Palace in the wake of the King. The noblemen and women waited politely for the monarch to turn towards the steps leading into the large stateroom. Treville and the Musketeer guards had exchanged glances of bemusement as the courtiers jostled for position behind the King. Treville was sure they were not only trying to be near their King but also be the first to get out of the chilly rain.
As they entered the stateroom a couple of footmen moved to the hearth. They began to build up the flames to ensure the room was warm. The Musketeers positioned themselves at strategic points about the room. They watched the rich men and women who were milling around, brushing themselves down sending rain droplets across the polished floor. Treville moved to be near the King who was standing with his back to the fire continuing his discussion with a couple of the more flamboyant talkative courtiers.
Baron Cote, who wore far too many frills for Treville's liking, was regaling the monarch with a tall story he had heard. The King was listening with interest.
'... and the body was covered in claw marks, sire,' Cote said, his voice a stage whisper to add drama to his tale. 'The poor creature must have bled to death right there on the street.'
'And the killer - this mystery hooded figure - he's not been caught?' asked the King who was hanging on the Baron's every word.
'No, sire. They say he - or it - is not of this world. It shimmers with an ethereal light as it moves through the streets. Women and children flee before it.'
The King leaned closer to Cote, causing the others in the group to copy. Treville shook his head and rolled his eyes. The two closest Musketeers could also hear the outrageous story. Barbotin hid a smile, and Marc looked away, trying not to laugh.
'Where was the last attack?' asked one of the ladies, her face pale, her eyes wide.
She was clutching the arm of one of the young men who seemed to be enjoying the closeness of the enraptured women. Although the man had rearranged the woman's hand a little to stop her creasing the sleeve of his doublet.
'It happened in a dark corner off the Rue du Claire-'
'The slums,' remarked the man who was comforting the lady. 'The place is full of villains… I don't think we will miss a few of them.'
The young noble and the other men in the privileged huddle laughed. The King did not. The men sobered, realising they should not react in a manner different to the King.
'How many people have this… this being killed?' asked the King.
Baron Cote, had looked annoyed at the jibes from the other men, refocused on the King, 'nobody knows, majesty,' he said. 'But I have heard it could be more than twenty.'
The King straightened up; his face almost as pale as the worried lady. He looked across to Treville who sighed inwardly. The Musketeer Captain stepped forward when the King gestured to him.
'What is being done, Treville?' asked the King with a slight inquiring tilt of his head.
Treville noticed that the group were all looking at him, waiting for his response. The woman had moved closer to the man who had put his arm around her protectively.
'I have heard these rumours,' said Treville with a glance towards the Baron who momentarily glared at the Captain. 'And have monitored them. As far as I can tell there are no more attacks in that area than normal. This story of a hooded figure has probably been created by people who do not want to admit to being robbed when they let their guard down.'
Baron Cote huffed with annoyance at the barely veiled insinuation that he was adding fuel to an imaginary fire. The King, however, was not appeased by Treville's words.
'And what if this creature of the night decides to move its attacks to other areas of Paris? Is the Royal household safe? Will we be safe to walk around our grounds?'
'Majesty,' said Treville with a respectful nod of his head, 'I can assure you that you are safe within the grounds of the Palace.'
Baron Cote was about to say something but Treville continued.
'But as you have generously commissioned more men into your Musketeers, I believe the Royal guard can be reinforced.'
The King nodded his approval, 'and what of the people of Paris?' he asked.
'I do not have enough men to protect all the citizens.'
Treville knew he was pushing his luck with the comment, but the King did not react as he expected.
'You have just told me you have more men than you need, therefore, you will spare some of these men to find this… this night-time creature that is terrorising my people and deal with it.'
The other courtiers who were listening to the conversation looked impressed with the King's words. The monarch was doing all he could to protect his people.
'Bravo, majesty,' said the man who was supporting the lady. 'You will show this being that France will not be cowed by anyone… or anything.'
The lady wilted a little. Treville knew that was what the man wanted as he whispered something soothing in her ear.
Baron Cote looked smug. Treville had challenged his elaborate story and been put in his place by the King.
The Musketeer Captain bowed low to his King, 'it will be done, majesty,' he said.
The King nodded, 'yes, Treville, it shall. You are dismissed.'
After a second respectful bow, Treville walked from the room, knowing several of the courtiers were watching him go and whispering about the exchange to each other. He hoped his men could apprehend the robber without delay and that Baron Cote could be proved wrong regarding his suggestion it was a supernatural being.
MMMM
The Musketeer garrison was busy. A couple of the newly commissioned men were starting the next stage of their career by inducting cadets. The older men were supervising but on the whole standing back. The young cadets looked around nervously, watching as some of the Musketeers sparred with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Treville noted a couple of the men getting a bit too aggressive and having to be separated. He made a mental note to talk to the men later in the day and find out what the spat was about. They knew he had seen them and looked suitably contrite.
D'Artagnan and Athos were leaning against the wall, their doublets hanging on hooks nearby. Both men were flushed from exercise as they watched Porthos help Aramis up. The pair had been scuffling trying to trip each other up. Treville always wondered why any of them bothered to try to get Porthos on the ground, none of them ever managed it. The only Musketeer that had ever landed a punch hard enough to floor Porthos, was Luc, who at the time looked mortified at his achievement.
Porthos slapped Aramis on the shoulder as the pair laughed. Treville wandered towards them shaking his head.
'If you've quite finished showing off, I need to talk to the four of you. I have been instructed by the King to have an issue dealt with.'
Porthos smiled, 'and you're passing that issue onto us?'
Treville held Porthos' gaze for a few seconds causing the smile to falter on Porthos' face.
'Actually,' said Treville, 'I've picked the four of you because you, Porthos, are going to have the most knowledge about the subject.'
Treville could see his Musketeer trying to work out what he would know that the others would not.
Aramis slung his arm around his friend's shoulder, 'all Porthos is good for is bruising my pride and charming more food from Serge. What could he possibly have to offer?'
Porthos gave Aramis a friendly shove causing Aramis to push him back. Treville looked at them both causing them to stop and stand at attention. Athos shook his head and stepped into line along with d'Artagnan.
As his men realised the task was a serious one, they all gave him their full attention.
'There have been several attacks in the poorer areas of Paris, concentrated around the Court of Miracles.'
All four Musketeers reacted differently. Porthos' expression hardened, whilst Aramis looked angry. Athos glanced at Porthos with concern, and d'Artagnan took on the look of concentration he adopted whenever he was being given a mission.
'There are frequent attacks in those areas,' remarked Athos.
Porthos nodded his agreement, 'what's special about these attacks? For the King to be interested there must be something different about them. He don't usually care about the slums and my Court.'
Treville could see the distrust in Porthos. The Musketeer was generally able to rise above any snide remarks about his background or the people he grew up with. It was not often the King even acknowledged the desperately poor of the city.
'One of the other courtiers has heard about it, he's embellished the story and now the King thinks he will be attacked next. I am sure it is an embellishment, but he has instructed me to deal with it.'
Treville outlined all he had overheard from the Baron about the mystery figure.
'Claws?' said d'Artagnan. 'Are they saying they've been robbed by an animal?'
Treville raised an eyebrow, 'exactly. This is the kind of embellishment I am having to deal with. The Baron also said this… creature,' he shook his head at the description. 'This creature did not walk in a normal manner and there was something about it shining.'
Athos was looking at Porthos who had gone quiet and looked away.
'What is it?' asked Athos.
Porthos looked back at Athos and shook his head.
'Nothing, I was only thinking that it's annoying and disrespectful of the nobles to make this kind of story up. They're implying that the people who are poor and have no choices are somehow acceptable victims of their rumoured beasts.'
Porthos sighed and shook his head.
'Perhaps,' he continued, 'there is someone committing robberies in the area… More robberies than usual, but they can't be some freakish creature. It's a man and they've invented something around it to make it more entertaining when they talk about it.'
Treville knew the 'they' Porthos meant were the nobles. But there was something else, something that Porthos was not saying. Treville guessed Porthos was struggling not to say something out of place regarding the nobles and the King.
Athos said, 'it is too late now, we can ask some of the locals tomorrow and get a better description of this man.'
Porthos nodded, 'I'll go to the court in the morning and ask. We can work out what to do next once we have a bit more real information.'
'I hoped you would be willing to sort this out,' said Treville. 'I'll relieve the four of you of your other duties. Keep me informed so that I can update the King.'
Assured that his men would carry out the work without further direction the Captain turned towards the men that had been taking their sparring session too far. He had been watching them out of the corner of his eye as he briefed the Musketeers. The pair had wisely remained where they were waiting for the inevitable dressing down.
Treville could hear Porthos making suggestions of where they would find people who would talk to them. The Captain was confident the rumours would be dealt with in no time at all.
MMMM
The Next Morning...
The Court of Miracles was, perhaps, the only place in Paris that intimidated Athos. He was not a man who was easily intimidated but there was something about the place. It was true the vast majority of people who lived within its invisible boundaries were more fearful of him than he could ever be of them. But there were also several people who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Some people were so desperate that they would risk everything for a scrap of food. And desperate people were the most dangerous kind. Athos could never understand the people that existed within the court. He had never experienced their level of poverty. He may have given up his noble life, but he had never been poor, never needed to ask for charity to survive. He decided it was that difference that caused his wariness of the place.
Porthos, on the other hand, knew what it was to have nothing. He did not talk often about his life in the court. They knew enough and knew that he was lucky to have escaped it. Athos glanced at his friend as they approached the small unofficial kingdom within the city. Porthos looked tired and concern was etched across his face. The Musketeer disliked any kind of injustice, as they all did, but when it was directed at the people he had grown up with, it took on a personal nature.
'Let me do the talking,' said Porthos, without looking at him. 'At least to start with.'
Athos nodded, 'I only hope you can find some that are willing to talk. Even you have been away for long enough that they will be wary of you.'
Porthos glanced across, 'I know. It's odd. I knew the place once. Knew every inch of it, but now. Now it's a different world.'
'But not so different that you cannot be of use to us on this mission,' mused Athos with a smirk.
Porthos chuckled, 'glad to be of service.'
Athos watched Porthos' smile fade and his pensive expression return.
There was no definable border between the city of Paris and the court of miracles, and yet, Athos knew when they had crossed it. A heaviness filled the atmosphere, the people appeared furtive or fearful. The two Musketeers were greeted with suspicion.
Athos was also aware of a change in Porthos' demeanour. His friend pulled himself up to his full height and walked with a firm step. He did not look around. Athos realised Porthos was trying to give off the impression he was in no way intimidated. Athos knew that Porthos was not as welcome in the area as he had been a few years ago, but he still held some respect.
Two men in their twenties moved to block the Musketeers' way. The men wore leather and were armed with guns and daggers, a contrast to the majority of the locals. The court had its own militia. And that militia was on constant alert.
'Why are you here?' asked one of the men who sported a scar across the left side of his neck.
'We're investigating some robberies,' said Porthos.
'There's a lot of crime here,' said the other man, whose accent and skin tone marked him out as an immigrant. 'No one cares. We deal with it.'
'And most of the time that's fine,' said Porthos. 'But when it comes to our attention, we've got to do something about it.'
The scarred man laughed, 'and which of the hundreds of crimes are you going to do something about?'
Porthos took half a step towards the man, he was close enough to grab him if necessary. Athos knew which of the two men was at a disadvantage.
'Why don't you let us do what we need to and then we'll be on our way.'
The foreign man stepped closer and pushed his friend back a step.
'You won't be safe in here,' he said. 'We'll leave you alone... but I can't speak for everyone else. You'd be wise to be quick about your business.'
The two men backed off a few paces.
As they turned to go Athos saw them signalling to someone in a window of the nearest house. He could make out a figure stepping back, away from the light. The news that two Musketeers had entered the court would spread quickly. Athos doubted they would have to do much to find the victims of the mystery man.
Porthos was looking at the same window, he waited a few seconds before walking forward. They had only taken a few steps when a quiet, but insistent, voice broke through the sounds of everyday life in the court.
'I was robbed, messieurs.'
Athos turned towards the middle-aged man that had spoken. He was sitting on the bottom step of what would have been a grand entrance to a large house. He was not dressed in rags. His clothes were mud streaked and ripped in places. Further evidence of the robbery could be seen in his bruised face and the way he was holding his arm protectively.
'Was this recent?' asked Athos as he took a step closer to the man. 'What did they look like?'
MMMM
