Thanks for the follows and faves! Here's a short 'midway' chapter to keep you going!
Chapter 2: Roasted & Razzed
As an esteemed soldier of the king and part of one of the most respected units within the musketeers regiment, Athos merely endured the skyrocketing temperatures with a disgruntled frown on his face, the only indicator that he too was subject to external forces.
Unable to move, seek shade or strip of their heavy uniforms, Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'artagnan suffered miserably under the intense gaze of the direct sunlight, forced to stand to attention for hours on end as the king played croquet under the shade of an umbrella, knocking balls through hoops on his perfectly trimmed lawn.
Though he was sure he would never hear the end of their moans and groans about the unfairness of guard duty later on that night, Athos relished in these moments of heated silence, his growing headache lessening slightly as his fuzzy mind drifted away from the hellish position.
No amount of pay, respect, women or wine could seek to comfort the mens' spiralling moods as they stood in silence, rocking on the balls of their feet to keep the blood in their stiff legs while they watched on as the king played on in ignorant bliss.
Sweat pouring down the inside of their jackets to itch their skin in the most uncomfortable of places, Athos began to think that not even Aramis, with his well maintained hygiene and bottled perfumes would be able to remove the body odour they were cooking up today.
They would surely pay for their apparent nonchalance attendance later, imagining they could procure a sunburn that rival even the brightest of red parrots he had seen abroad.
Oh how he wished he could find some shade and a glass of cool, refreshing water.
~o0o~
As he had predicted, six hours later in the stuffy confines of the tavern, Athos was forced to endure the ongoing bickering of his friends as they let loose a storm of cusses and human rights rants at the day just passed.
He would have smiled at their discomfort had it not been for his blistered skin that threatened to crack and peel, should he attempt and expression of any kind.
And so he settled for becoming a human sponge, soaking up as many liquids-specifically wine- as he could, that the tavern had to offer.
Only when he was well and truly drunk did Athos decide to move his newly stiffened legs from their propped position on the stool across from him.
Though he highly doubted Treville would call them in for active duty again tomorrow, he couldn't risk losing any sleep to restore his depleted strength should he decide to do so.
And so with a pocketful of change strewn on the table, Athos stumbled up to his room, brothers in tow, their whining having graduated to drunken grumbles and disjointed arguments about the inferior values of croquet, before finally, they fell onto their beds and quickly drifted off into slumber.
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