XII. A General's Order

"Assemble!"

General Suard's order rang through the entire camp. Every musketeer, no matter what he was doing at the moment, immediately headed towards the larger space in front of the gate, some more enthusiastically than others.

Porthos, who had used the night to get at least two hours of sleep, stood next to Aramis and Athos. He and Gino had helped both of them out of the medic's tent where they had been forced to spend the night under the medic's watchful eye. Aramis' leg wound had stopped bleeding, but as Gino had predicted, it was possible that some nerves and muscles had been damaged. The marksman limped badly, however that hadn't stopped him from attending the muster.

Athos looked only slightly better than before. Judging by the violet circles under his eyes, he hadn't slept either, and he was still rather pale. He moved around very stiffly, but Gino had assured Porthos that the bruising on the back wasn't connected to any permanent damage. And Athos was in an exceptionally bad mood, but truth was, after they had left the civilians yesterday evening, none of them had been in a good mood.

The general was standing in front of the lines of soldiers, his arms folded in front of his chest. It was the posture of a man who knew his rank, and who was aware of his authority. But he was unaware of the men he was commanding, as could be read from every face Porthos was looking at right now.

"Men, for those of you who haven't met me yet, I am General Suard and I have been assigned to take command of the musketeer regiment in the absence of Captain Tréville. Commander Décart has given me full authority over this fortress. I've been appraised of the situation, and the musketeers Athos, Porthos, Aramis and Arthur have assisted in laying out a plan for our next steps." He made a dramatic pause and took a brief moment to let his words sink in. But the assembled musketeers, disciplined as they were, showed no reaction. "The citadel is besieged by Buckingham. Commander Décart has the situation under control."

Porthos just threw him a skeptical glare. It had sounded differently during the meeting yesterday.

"Our concern is the English general calling himself 'Lord Eadmund'. Some people refer to him as 'the Butcher of La Rochélle', an untrue statement by the way." Suard put on a confident smile. "I have been in La Rochélle, and I assure you, it's a title he has given himself. He's an ordinary general, the same as I am."

Nobody said a word, and nobody dared to move. Except for Gino. Porthos caught him rolling his eyes at the statement, even snorting in disbelief. He narrowed his eyes. It was unusual for Gino to show his emotions so openly.

The general now made a wide gesture with his hand, and his eyes locked on Athos. "Would you mind?"

Athos nodded and slowly took a few steps forward. His left arm was still pressed tightly against his chest, and Porthos knew Athos was in more pain than he cared to admit. He was moving around so stiffly Porthos wasn't sure he would be able to fight if necessary. But the swordsman reluctantly joined the general and turned towards the crowd of musketeers.

"We have information that there is still a group of civilians outside, near a barn, a short distance from here. We will take our empty supply cart. I'll lead the group...," and that comment earned him a warning glare from Gino, "and I'll be joined by Théo, Fréderic, Dorian and Gabriel. Our only goal is to get the civilians out."

"And how to we plan on feeding them?" the cadet Fréderic addressed Athos. Suard just watched in silence. "We barely have enough supplies for ourselves."

Athos stayed calm. "Would you prefer to have them killed out there? I'm inclined to follow my orders, and I advise you to do so, too." That comment earned him a satisfied look from the general.

Now the general stepped forward again. Athos stayed in the background, his head low, and his hands folded in front of his chest.

"Additionally, we will have patrols securing this area to prevent the English from penetrating further in our direction." Suard now looked straight at Aramis. "I only made minor changes," he said with a low voice, before he looked up again into the unmoving crowd of musketeers.

"Two Patrols will head out this morning, one scouting south-west towards the village Cévry, and the other one heading south-east, in the direction of the citadel. Do not, under any circumstances, get close to Saint-Blanceau." He made a short pause again, and pulled out a piece of paper, the one Aramis and Athos had handed him the night before.

"One patrol consists of the musketeers Valentin, Maxim, Félix, Charles and Martin. The other one has the musketeers Arthur, Porthos, Daniel, Philippe and Aramis. You'll leave in thirty minutes. For the rest of you, I've worked out a plan on how to reinforce this fortress, and how to ration our supplies."

Porthos scowled. Suard hadn't done that, that had been Porthos. But he bit his tongue and looked straight ahead as the general continued.

"We'll have to share with our guests." He threw a meaningful look towards Lucien, who was standing at a short distance with the rest of the civilians. "Any questions?"

"Sir, the musketeers Aramis, Athos and Philippe are in no condition for duty today." All heads turned towards the musketeer who dared to face the general so bluntly, and in a tone that bordered on disrespect.

Suard's eyes flickered towards the source of the statement as well, and Porthos curiously eyed Gino, the medic, who had made the statement. Aramis had told him that Gino's reaction to the general's arrival had been unusual, but he hadn't wasted more thought on it.

Porthos quickly exchanged a look with his friends. Athos paid him no attention, but his brow was furrowed and his arms crossed as his eyes rested on the medic, not shocked or surprised like everyone else, but skeptical.

Aramis on the other hand caught Porthos' gaze. Porthos knew for a fact that Aramis hadn't assigned himself to one of the patrols, as he and Athos had used the entire evening to talk him out of it. That had been Suard's doing.

The general looked at Gino with such a cold expression it could freeze the entire island over. "And how do you reason your statement?"

Gino lifted his head, and it became clear that he didn't have any respect for his superior. Which was unusual, since Gino's sense of duty and authority could compete with Athos'.

"Sir, Aramis can't walk without help. Philippe's injured shoulder prevents him from using his swordarm, and the head injury Athos suffered is nothing to take lightly. He might collapse during the mission."

Suard raised an eyebrow. "I have given Athos the order, and he complied, giving no indication he was not fit for duty."

Gino's face remained inscrutable. "It's a risk." He now looked at Athos. "And you know that."

Athos nodded. "I do."

The medic shook his head and opened his mouth to continue but Suard cut him off. "Philippe," he called, obviously not knowing which musketeer to look at.

Philippe, with a sling around his arm, made his way towards the front row and stood at attention. "Sir?"

The general's eyes flashed dangerously. "You musketeers know how to fight with both arms, correct?"

Philippe blinked in confusion. "I am capable of wielding a sword with both hands, sir, if that's what you're asking."

Porthos gritted his teeth to control the anger rising inside him. To assess how fit someone was for duty was the task of a regiment's medic, not it's commanding officer, no matter the rank. This seemed to be Gino's thoughts exactly, and he didn't hesitate to speak up.

"General, with all due respect, it's my responsibility to inform you when soldiers are unfit for duty. Sending them out means risking the whole operation, and can be considered careless and impulsive."

All the assembled musketeers exhaled simultaneously, and Porthos could see the general's blood boiling. But he was in control of his emotions, and when he spoke, his voice didn't even tremble.

"You're suggesting that Aramis and Philippe remain in camp?" Porthos noticed how Athos' task wasn't even up for debate. It seemed to be decided.

Gino exhaled between clenched teeth. "I fear I'll have to insist."

Suard's eyes flashed dangerously. "As you wish. But you will take their place in the patrol then. Aramis can take over your duties for the time you are gone."

Now Porthos witnessed Aramis open his mouth to protest, but apparently, he had caught the warning glare from Athos first. It was subtle, but the swordsman shook his head. Not because he agreed with the general, but because he knew that this was a lost battle.

The general raised his chin and looked at them with so much confidence it could not be truthful. "You are dismissed. The patrols will leave in thirty minutes."

The musketeers slowly took over the positions they were given, but they did so in silence. Porthos wasn't aware of one word that had been spoken among his brothers.

Later that Day

Aramis was restless. If he could have, he would have paced all over the tent, but his trembling and hurting leg prevented him from doing so. Instead he was restricted to sitting on the table in the medic's tent, Philippe by his side, with a calmness Aramis couldn't help but envy. He had known that he would be of no use on any patrol, which was why he hadn't assigned himself to one. That had been the general.

Aramis couldn't understand the man's motives. The general seemed sure of himself, and eager to win this battle, even though every musketeer here knew that Commander Décart had sent them here as a distraction. But that seemed to be something the general didn't want to see or accept, and under different circumstances, Aramis would have had the greatest respect for that. But still, his superior officer had assigned wounded soldiers to missions when there were plenty of healthy ones to choose from. He had sent their only medic on a dangerous mission, fully aware of the risks involved should the camp lose its medic.

"I could've done it, you know," Philippe said with a voice devoid of any emotions. "I could have done the patrol."

Aramis huffed. "I know. But that doesn't mean you should have."

Philippe raised an eyebrow. How could he still be so calm? "But then Athos shouldn't have gone towards the barn. And..." He lowered his voice, as if he was scared someone might listen. "and the general shouldn't have assigned our only medic to a mission." He was hissing the last words, clearly unable to hide his anger.

Aramis shrugged. "I don't know, but Gino and the general seem to have a history. I won't ask unless someone tells me, but if whatever it is gets Gino killed, we will have a major problem here."

The other musketeer answered with a dry laugh and rose from the table. "We already have some major problems, if you ask me. We lost two men in the first night. We are forty musketeers, against an army of what...hundreds? We know nothing, but still we are expected to do...what exactly?"

"Prevail," Aramis retorted simply.

Philippe sighed. "Great." He angrily kicked a stone over the ground. "Just great."

"Athos' group should have been back by now." Aramis stared towards the tent's exit as if he expected his friend magically to appear there. "What is taking them so lo..."

He didn't get to finish his sentence. The silence that had settled over the entire fortress was suddenly gone. There was yelling, and the sound of boots running over the stamped earth. Aramis was on high alert and as quickly as he could, he limped towards the tent's exit. He had expected the return of one of the groups, but instead, there were musketeers in front of the gate, talking loudly and warningly.

And then, the sounds of cannons being fired drowned out all other noises.

Ten minutes earlier, north-east part of Ré island

Athos was blinking rapidly in order to maintain his focus. Sweat was running over his forehead, and he was breathing heavily. His pistol was in his right hand, and he held the reins of the horse with the other.

They had used the one cart they posessed and sucessfully found the remaining citizens of Cévry. They had hidden in a small building right next to the barn. Athos and his group had saved three children, two women and four men in total. They had loaded the civilians onto the cart, and luckily, these people had been more grateful than Lucien and his group. They had reported the sighting of English soldiers the past night, but apparently, they hadn't approached the French Fortress.

The cadet, Frédéric, seemed to have a problem with the orders Athos had given. When Athos had told them to stay covered, Frédéric had refused and said there was no immediate threat. When Athos heard the sounds of distant hoof beats and ordered to the men to prepare their pistols, Frédéric had argued that Athos could be imagining it due to his concussion. The boy seemed to have a serious problem with authorities. Or, as Athos had figured, perhaps he merely had a problem with Athos, Aramis and Porthos.

Now, Athos was carefully leading the cart, pulled by one of their two horses, off the main path and between the trees that provided cover for them until they were able to reach the fortress. His skull felt like it was going to explode soon, and he cursed every time the horse shook its head and pulled on Athos' injured arm. His vision had blackened twice already, but luckily, Théo, the only other commissioned musketeer in their little group, had noticed and quickly covered him from the curious stares of the cadets.

"Halt!" Athos had spotted movements a great length ahead of them. It could be just an animal between the trees, his slightly blurred vision made it impossible to determine. But he wasn't taking any risks. He didn't want to run into English soldiers. What comforted him was the fact that the fortress was not far anymore.

"There's nothing Athos, let's keep moving," Frédéric just said and continued walking, while the other two cadets did as they had been told.

Athos hesitated for a brief moment, but then he stepped forward, secured his pistol on his belt and firmly gripped Frédéric's upper arm. The cadet looked up in surprise, and Athos realized how his vision darkened again, but luckily, Théo had understood. The musketeer grabbed Frédéric's other arm and together, they pulled him backwards and firmly slammed him against the back of the cart.

"I said stop," Athos growled. "This is your last warning."

Frédéric's eyes flashed with hate. "Since the general arrived, he has the command. You have nothing to say to me."

Athos knew something of Frédéric's background. The nephew of a noble, a baron, residing in the northern part of the kingdom. The man showed all the characteristics of a spoiled child – arrogant, entitled, and with a lack of respect for other men.

Athos opened his mouth, but a wave of dizziness hit him and he clutched the cart for support, the words he had prepared getting lost in a wave of pain. Théo took over.

"I don't know who you think you are, Frédéric, but you are a musketeer now. And Athos and I, we both are of higher rank than you. As long as there is no general present, or no captain, or no lieutenant, you have to do as we say and treat us with the appropriate respect." Théo's voice was deadly calm.

'Did you like being pushed around by Athos and his friends?" Frédéric counted, obviously not learning his lesson. "How he and Aramis and Porthos just gave orders to us, without being authorized to do so?"

Théo's eyes flashed dangerously. "They were authorized by the captain himself. Besides, is there one order they gave you which you believed to be questionable?"

Frédéric closed his mouth. He didn't seem to have an answer.

"From now on you will do as we say. You may voice your doubts about our orders, but you will not ignore or disobey them. Do you understand?" Théo's voice was firm and controlled.

The cadet said nothing, he just stared at the two musketeers with disgust.

"Did we make ourselves clear?" Athos growled, and had to restrain himself in order to not yell.

Frédéric pushed Athos' arm away. "Yes," he brought out between clenched teeth, turned on the spot and disappeared behind the wagon, obviously trying to escape Théo's and Athos' gazes.

The two musketeers grabbed the reins again and continued heading towards the fort, slowly and carefully. The movement Athos had seen earlier turned out to be a wild animal, but he had no regrets. It was better to play safe, especially in their current condition.

He could already see the fortress gate in the distance when a loud noise forced them all to freeze. Even Frédéric stopped, and they all turned their heads, anxiously searching for the source.

Almost immediately the earth trembled and their world was drowned by a loud crashing sound in the distance. A sound Athos, especially after his last experience on Ré Island, would recognize everywhere.

Cannons.

After the initial shock had passed, and their entire group had realized that they had not been the target, Athos lifted his gaze and instantly spotted the smoke in the distance, in a south-westerly direction. One shot after the other followed, and the musketeer had to restrain himself not to jump into action.

"Fortress. Quick!" Athos ordered and Théo bellowed at the cadets to get moving. The civilians on the cart were clinging to each other, scared and frightened. But Athos' only thought as he clenched his teeth and forced his body into a faster pace, was that the cannons were bearing down close to where the village of Cévry was located.

And, at the same time, where some of the musketeers were patrolling.

"What's going on?" The general had left his tent and joined the crowd of musketeers assembled around the cart near the fortress' gate. Aramis was standing at the sideline, and though he was relieved that Athos had safely returned from the mission, his worry was not eased one bit.

"Cannons were fired, sir," Athos reported to his superior. Athos looked as bad as he had in the morning, but Aramis chose not to say anything in front of the large crowd. Instead, he focused on the general's reaction.

"Any suspicions where?" the general threw a quick look towards the civilians Athos and his men had just rescued from the barn.

"Our guesses are that the village of Cévry was the target, sir." That was Théo's voice.

"Your guesses?" Suard repeated and arched an eyebrow.

"Our information about the geographical distribution of this island is not completely reliable," Aramis chipped in and limped two steps forward. "But, given that they are not firing at us, it's the only reasonable target."

Suard targeted him with a skeptical look, but eventually, he nodded. For a moment, nobody said a word. The assembled musketeers were staring at their superior, and the civilians were talking quietly and rapidly, some were crying at the news that their home was the possible target of the cannons.

"Sir, one of our patrols!" That was the musketeer who had risked a look behind the closed gate of the fortress.

"Open the gate!" someone yelled desperately from the other side, a voice Aramis thought to be familiar. "It's us, open the gates!"

The general hesitated for another split second, but eventually he made his way over to the gate and inspected what was behind it.

"Open the gates!" Suard lowered his head towards the musketeer standing at the entrance. He whirled around and made a wide gesture. "Prepare the medic's tent."

The gate was soon opened and three men stumbled through. Aramis instinctively stepped forward to offer a helping hand, and he could feel Athos by his side.

The first face he recognized was Arthur. It was stained with dirt and blood, and he was bathed in sweat. There was a larger flesh wound on the side of his face, open flesh on his jaw where once was his beard. The cadet Daniel was there too, looking as if he had just seen a ghost, and the front of his uniform was stained with fresh blood. Aramis could not yet determine where it came from. The most horrifying sight however was the limp figure between them, the head lolling on its chest, being supported by the musketeers from both sides.

With his heart dropping in fear, Aramis recognized Gino.

"Bring him in the tent, now!" Aramis ordered immediately, almost automatically, and made some hectic gestures towards the tent. Daniel complied and took all of Gino's weight, while Arthur stayed where he was and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Through all the fog and shock in his brain, Aramis tried to recall all the information from the morning until he remembered the names of the men he had put on the patrol. Gino had replaced Philippe and himself, but there were still three others. Arthur, Daniel...and Porthos.

His head snapped to the side as his eyes searched the entrance of the fort for any sign of his friend. Athos next to him seemed to have come to a similar conclusion.

"You were four," Athos assessed calmly, but with hidden panic in his voice. He looked straight at Arthur. "Where's Porthos?"

Arthur stared at him, lifting his shoulders in dismay. "Unknown."

To Jmp: Thank you for your review! And I hope that the next chapters will give you a clearer impression of the new General! :)
To Laureleaf: Thank you for your nice words! Yes, all three of them are going to have a difficult time with the General, for reasons that are yet to come. Thank you for your review, I so love to hear your thoughts!