Thank you for all the support and reviews, I'm really proud of this story so far. I've honestly not had many last this long or accomplish so much, so thank you so much for the motivation once again!
Love you guys! This chapter finally catches up to our beloved D'artagnan, what could he have possibly been up to for so long!?
(FLASHBACK 3 HOURS EARLIER)
It had been a dangerous trek back into the centre of town from the majesties palace; the unseen potholes covered over with mud and strewn twigs making it impossible to ride faster than a trot should D'artagnan risk injury to his horse or himself.
It left for a stressful journey, as he could neither take the caution to slow down, nor could he waste any time for the queens sake- and possibly his own in this worsening storm.
It was to D'artagnans utmost delight that he finally spotted a lanterns light thirty paces ahead through the sleet and dark night, a symbol for hope if there had ever been one.
Though he wasn't exactly pleased with the half hour it took to blindly find his way here, he would have to accept it for what it was and make use of his time finding the blasted, seemingly invisible surgeon.
Reigning his mount to a halt outside the stable, D'artagnan hopped down- and conveniently landed in what felt like the biggest rain filled pot hole in all of France.
D'artagnan let out a vile torrent of curses as he stepped out of the large mud puddle, feeling the need to kick it to inflict some revenge- though of course that would be pointless.
It was as if he was destined for bad luck! As soon as he thought he had struck lucky with warm feet in dry boots, a puddle had magically conjured itself below this very spot and invited him in for a swim. D'artagnan was not amused.
Tying his horse up in the dry stables which offered idle hay upon its floor, D'artagnan squelched over to the weathered door of an inn, swinging it wide and relishing in the warmth the shelter provided.
"No, no, no, no, no! I'll not have a giant puddle on the inside of my house, thank you very much" came a croaking call of an elderly woman from a counter to his left.
Heedless of her instruction, D'artagnan drank in the sight of the small but cozy in as heat began to settle back into his bones and cause goose bumps to form all over.
The inn itself was constructed of old wooden logs instead of bricks- as was common for the poorer folk, but seemed sturdy enough to hold its own against any weather. As for the interior of the inn, it split directly in two, with a staircase dead ahead, a large fireplace and small public tables to his left in the main room and a crudely built stone kitchen peeking out from a partially walled off area on his right.
" Are you dumb son? I said git' those darned boots off lest I take you by the ear! I aint going to have any disobedience from my guests, I don't care how good your coin is!" the old woman hollered through all of her five rotten teeth, drawing D'artagnans attention back to the present.
"Oh, uh, yes, I apologize sincerely ma'am. I lost myself there for a moment. I'm having a rough day you could say" D'artagnan fumbled, feeling like an insolent child as he hobbled around trying to maintain his balance and dignity while struggling to get his suctioning boots off.
"Yes, I can see that, I ain't blind like you may think" the woman countered sharply. "Now do you want a room or not, I'm up past my bed time and id rather like to get under warm blankets monsieur."
D'artagnan resisted the urge to sass the lady or roll his eyes as he would have under natural circumstances, but tonight was not the night.
"Um, actually no ma'am. You see, I've been sent here to seek out the local surgeon, I-"
"You don't seem injured" the woman rudely interrupted, eyeballing him suspiciously with beady, watery eyes.
D'artagnan held back a sigh of frustration, " You're correct ma'am, you see ive been sent here to retrieve a surgeon" he finished, emphasizing his goal so she could not argue with him.
"Oh, well there isn't any surgeons in here right now. We're all out I suppose" she joked, her dark humour not helping D'artagnan in the slightest.
Resisting the growing urge to pick up his sodden boot and launch it at her ugly, wrinkled face, D'artagnan held fast. "Well would you happen to know where I could find one? Its important" he insisted, tone serious and completely dropping the ma'am. This woman, thing, was definitely no lady- of decency at least.
" Perhaps…I may be forgetting the exaaact where abouts" she hinted, rolling her crooked eyes skywards. Shovelling his hands through his pockets, D'artagnans cold fingers seized what he assumed was a handful of coin and al but threw it at her.
"WHERE?" he demanded fiercely. She took a step back but continued to scowl, giving his the surgeons address, to which he more than happily departed to.
The surgeon being a man of academic achievement and caring persona was quick to hear D'artagnans desperate tale and accompany him on his journey back to the palace, without the slightest hesitation to D'artagnans gratefulness.
After gathering bountiful supplies and packing a small cart, with accompanying horses, the duo set off at a daringly fast pace in the general direction of the palace, hoping they would get their in time.
They had reached perhaps a third of the way there when suddenly the cart hit a muddy rut and there was a loud SNAP as the back axle of the cart suddenly gave way.
The broken axle quickly triggered the supplies inside to slide to the right and put an overwhelming amount of pressure on the right wheel, thus snapping it off the axle completely and causing the entire rig to list dangerously before overbalancing completely.
It was all over in a matter of seconds. D'artagnan couldn't believe it. He had one task and it seemed like everything under the power of the sun wanted to prevent him from completing his mission. It was almost laughable but D'artagnan felt more like dropping to his knees and giving up.
But he refused. He would get them through this pathetic storm, else he shouldn't be called a musketeer. He was being counted on and by god he was going to reach the palace come hell or high water- which seemed a plausible possibility judging by the non stop downpour.
And so, D'artagnan didn't bat an eye as he scooped up what salvageable medicinal ingredients and tools that he could, untied the horses, placed the surgeon on one while he lifted himself and his supplies into the other.
Finally, as a precaution, he tied a thick rope from his mounts saddle to the bridle of the surgeons mount. No way was he risking losing the man he sought to deliver. And on they rode, hunkered low against the sleet, wind and torrential downpour.
He just hoped this was all worth it.
Ahh, so that's what he's been up to! Poor D'artagnan was just trying to do his best and look out for his brothers but it seems he's having a tough time pulling through with it. Will it really be all for nothing?
Lets find out together shall we? ;)
