The past forty-eight hours or so had not been Wilbur's best moments.

Things had started off well enough. And as often was the case for him, they had started off with a beautiful woman. Life was too short to waste away not enjoying the finer things the world had to offer, pining helplessly for one tragic love like Phil did or having no interest at all in courtship like Techno seemed to. Wilbur had seen firsthand the effect a uniform could have on a lady. With a wink and a tilt of his hat, they basically came sprawling at his feet. He'd be amiss not to enjoy himself.

Until the husband of whoever he was finding companionship with came home. Then he had to make for a hasty retreat.

He'd landed on his feet - both in a metaphorical and almost literal sense. But things had gone steadily downhill since then and there was not much hope of them looking up. Phil was in jail, Cornet was dead and they had an unfortunate ally in the shape of one Thomas D'Artagnan who had entered their barracks with revenge in his heart that had not been sated yet.

A grin pulled at Wilbur's lips. Techno did often call him a poet. There was a fanciful edge to Wilbur's thoughts sometimes, maybe not befitting for a soldier. He could certainly get serious when needed though.

This was one such time. They had the man who could provide an answer to a lot of the remaining mysteries right in front of them. And they would not leave before they knew how to get Phil out of this fucking mess.

The man in question - a red guard Techno had an encounter with earlier when Wilbur wasn't present - was staring up at them with wide and frightened eyes. As if they had no clue why they'd been brought there. Either they were an exceptionally good actor or they were a fool.

"It's time to pay the reckoning for what happened to Cornet," Wilbur said, a bit of snide anger in his voice.

A whole squadron of musketeers, dead on the side of the road. He'd be lying if he said it didn't please him to pay it forward.

Techno stood next to him. He shouldered into Wilbur slightly, shaking his head. "I bet he's going to say 'I have no idea what you're talking about'."

Wilbur hummed in agreement. "And then we'll have to hurt him."

"At which point he'll suddenly remember he killed them all," Techno agreed.

The man shook his head, no more than a frightened moan passing his lips at the intimidation tactics. Wilbur supposed he couldn't fault him. The poor sod was tied up in front of two very angry musketeers who looked down at him with nothing but malice. Any reasonable soul would be scared out of their wits.

Techno nodded at Wilbur and Wilbur nodded back.

"Why wait?" Techno asked with a small shrug then. "Let's just hurt him now and get it over with."

The man's eyes got so comically large they almost popped out of his head. Wilbur chuckled and knelt in front of him.

"It could go like that," he suggested, "or we can just skip straight to the confession part. It would save us time." He patted the man softly on the cheek. "And it would save you pain. A lot of pain."

Tommy didn't say anything. He was leaning against the wall, watching this go down. Wilbur did have half a mind to wonder what he must think of them, honorable musketeers as they should be. The king's regiment, favored soldiers and brave men.

No, with Phil in danger, Techno and Wilbur both knew all bets were off and there were no lengths they'd refrain from going to if it would help. Wilbur hoped Tommy could understand a thing or two about friendship and loyalty.

"It's not like that-" the guard choked out. "I was just following orders." His cheeks were red with strain, one vein bulging unpleasantly on his face.

"He was just following orders," Techno echoed, monotone.

Wilbur stood up and nodded. "Ah yes, of course. We better let him go then."

The man barely sighed in relief, not smart enough to know better. Until Techno hauled him up by the front of his garments in the next moment and shoved him against one of the wooden pillars. This warehouse was a deserted one, used for storing musketeer items in the dead of winter. Nobody would bother them. Nobody would know what transpired there except the men already in the room.

"I can't- can't tell you! They'll kill me!" the man insisted. Wilbur put his hand on Techno's shoulder.

"No need for that, we're not brutes." He gave the man a moment to catch his breath, a blink to let hope sink in. And then squashed it under his boot. "We should just shoot him."

Techno laughed over the red guard's feeble protests, reaching around to bind the man's arms around the wood and keep him there while Wilbur retrieved his musket.

"You know, people say I'm quite good with these," he commented, spinning the iron ball around in his fingers.

"Good? He's the best," Techno said jovially. "So modest, Wilbur."

"Oh, well, I don't like to brag," Wilbur said.

Techno smirked at him. "Liar."

"The musket is not the most reliable weapon though," Wilbur continued, speaking more to himself than anything. "From a hundred yards I'd definitely miss as many times as I hit my target." He finished loading the gunpowder, closing the gun. "From this close?" he added, gesturing at the less than ten feet between them. "Now that's another story. It becomes just a question of what vital organ I want to hit."

"No, no, please listen-" the man tried to beg.

"Heart?" Techno suggested, walking up next to Wilbur. He was probably enjoying himself a little too much.

"Too swift," Wilbur said. "The liver, perhaps. Or a stomach shot? Death is inevitable but you'll bleed for hours first." He put the gun against his shoulder, taking aim.

The red guard pushed himself back against the pillar, shaking wretchedly. "Please… this is murder."

"Well, we won't tell if you won't," Techno joked.

Wilbur blew slightly on the musket's lit fuse, watching sparks float down to the dirt ground. He saw Tommy cross his arms as he prepared to shoot, but the younger man did not intervene. Wilbur's gloved finger pressed against the trigger, watching the man that was cowering before him. Watching the fear of death dance in his eyes.

He pushed down on the trigger.

The sound of an unloaded musket being fired was akin to a hiss, the gunpowder failed to catch. But it made the man whimper and flinch away from nothing, thinking their death warrant had already been sealed. Wilbur laughed slightly.

"Oh, my bad." He retrieved the metal ball out of his pocket again, looking at it and then back at the red guard with an almost sheepish expression on his face. As if this wasn't orchestrated at all. "I forgot the bullet. This time though." He tilted the musket up to reload it.

And just like that the red guard's secrets came spilling out of him.

"It was Captain Gaudet, a captain of the red guard."

A captain? Wilbur tried not to show his confusion. "Talk!" he demanded, completely through with their games. This was what they needed to clear Phil's name.

"He said he needed some men for a special mission, something about stealing letters. It was unofficial, off the record. But when we got there, Gaudet just- he went mad. He was the one who murdered all those men, not us. None of us knew it would turn out in a blood bath."

Wilbur did not comment on how hard to believe that last part was. One man could not take out a whole regiment of musketeers, the red guards must have surely helped their captain even if they disagreed with the command or did not understand its purpose. They were cowards through and through.

Techno held up the gold coin to the man's face. "You took this from Cornet?"

"His saddlebag was full of Spanish gold," the red guard said while desperately nodding, still hoping to confirm his innocence. "Gaudet said we could share it between us, I just-"

His confession cut off into a choked groan when Tommy suddenly surged forward and grabbed the man's shoulders. He shook him wildly, unrestrained. When he yelled, his voice was so full of anger it sounded as if he was close to breaking.

"Who murdered my father?! WHO?!"

"It was Gaudet," the man managed to choke out. "It was all his idea, all of it!"

Techno pulled Tommy off him by the back of his shirt the next moment, probably as concerned as Wilbur was that Tommy would kill the man right then and there. But this anger was still misplaced. Their gambit had worked, Gaudet was the one deserving of all their ire.

"He did it to ruin Phillip's name," the red guard continued, pale as a sheet and trembling. "I'm not like him, I'm not- I'm not-"

"Tell us where Gaudet is now," Techno barked at him, losing his patience with this whole affair.

"He has set up a camp in the old ruins outside the city gates. I can show you where, just don't kill me." There was not a smidge of honor left in him. Wilbur condescendingly petted the man's cheek again.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

At last, it was time to put an end to all this.


"There's too many of them to fight head on."

Wilbur frowned, but he had to (begrudgingly) admit Techno was probably right. They were surveying the camp from on top of a hill a little ways off. The ruins were a church once, outside the capital but next to one of the more frequently used roads. Gaudet had been strategic in picking this location.

Whether the Cardinal was aware of what his favorite troops were getting up to remained a mystery.

"We need a distraction to get inside," Wilbur said, folding up the spying glass he had been using to get a better look. "There's a single entrance with a lone guard, but passing by him without being noticed is the tricky part. Once we're inside we can be sneaky."

"They'll be weary of any man randomly approaching."

"What if it's not a man?" Tommy asked.

Wilbur squinted at him in the darkness of dusk. "What did you have in mind?"

"Wait here." Without giving an explanation, Tommy was gone. Wilbur sighed, but they didn't have any choice except to stay put. If taking on an entire camp with the three of them was impossible, doing it with two was out of the question. No matter how good Techno and he were as soldiers.

While they waited, Techno pulled out his revolver and started to clean it. Wilbur watched him do so.

"What do you make of him?" he prodded eventually. The whole ordeal with Phil had occupied their attention, but Wilbur did want to address the elephant in the room.

"Of Tommy?" Techno didn't look at him, Wilbur still nodded. "I guess he's alright."

"That's a glowing recommendation, coming from you." Wilbur laughed, especially when his comment made Techno look a little offended.

"He's a bit too loud for my liking."

"Everybody is too loud for your liking." Turning over so he could watch the camp better, Wilbur wondered what Phil was doing. How the cells of Paris were treating the old man. "You don't suppose he will stay, do you?"

"Probably," Techno said.

"Probably?"

"He was looking at the recruitment pamphlet in the barracks."

Wilbur hadn't seen that, though the notion didn't bother him. Tommy seemed like a good kid, exactly the sort of boy the musketeers were fitted for.

They sat in silence and prepared their weapons until Tommy finally returned. He had brought a woman with him, the same one who had interrupted their impromptu duel during their first encounter. Wilbur vaguely recalled her being named Niki.

"I heard you need some help." She was already pulling her long hair up into a bun, sleeves bunched around her elbows. A working-class lady, she lacked the delicacy of what the royals would proclaim a woman should be. Her face was brimming with excitement at partaking in the action.

"Four should help even the odds," Wilbur hummed and handed her a gun. "Do you know how to use this?"

"Better than most." She nodded at him.

The guard of Gaudet's encampment could curse himself later that he had not been more suspicious of somebody traveling these backroads this late at night. Just because Niki was a woman, they'd underestimate her.

And clearly, she had learned how to use that to her advantage.

With Techno's help, the unconscious man was rolled into a ditch and their entrance to the camp had no hurdles left to overcome. Wilbur went first, leading the way. Around the corner of a parapet, they hid to get a better look inside.

"There's not as many as I feared," he said. It had been hard to say from outside how many red guards would actually be camping there. They were outnumbered only four to one. Not the worst odds in the world.

Definitely not the worst odds Wilbur and his companions had ever overcome.

Gaudet was easily distinguished from his men, both because he wore much flashier armor and also because he walked around with an obnoxious amount of self-importance. As if the king himself would kiss his ass if he asked kindly enough.

"We're going to get them unaware," Wilbur told the others. "Wait for my signal, surprise is everything."

The words had barely left his mouth or a shape barreled past him, a scream tearing from their lips. It took Wilbur a moment to realize said shape had been Tommy, still intent on revenge and thus running straight for Gaudet.

"Well," he muttered. "Surprise would have been everything."

Techno laughed, shoulder bumping into his when he went to join Tommy in the mayhem. Wilbur pulled his musket back against his shoulder.

They had a slight advantage in that these red guards did not expect to have to fight so suddenly. Their weapons were ill prepared and many of them weren't wearing their armor. Wilbur had no problem taking a handful of them out with his gun before they were even conscious of what was happening. When he ran out of gunpowder, he discarded the musket in favor of his sword.

He kept an eye on the others from the corner of his vision, not wanting to lose them in the chaos in case they needed aid. He was not worried about Techno, they'd fought many battles together. Unless something went horribly wrong, Techno was more than capable of looking after himself. Tommy had proven himself a fine fighter in the barracks. And Niki-

A red guard that had been trying to sneak up on Wilbur's rear fell to the ground, the bullet from Niki's revolver striking him perfectly in the tender flesh of his neck. She gave him a little nod before turning around.

So no worries there either.

Before long Gaudet was the only one left standing. And then even he was on his knees, Tommy's sword pressed to his throat.

"Don't!" Wilbur yelled. "Tommy, we need him alive."

He was sure Tommy wouldn't listen. That in an instant it would be Gaudet's blood staining into the ruin's grounds.

But then Tommy spat at the man's feet.

"Dying here would be too fucking good for you," he said. "I'd rather see you hang." He pulled back his sword and stepped away, turning around to head in Wilbur's direction.

Despite everything, he felt relief. Killing somebody was not something one could walk away from. Wilbur himself was burdened with the knowledge of every man he had killed, on the battlefield and sometimes beyond that as well. He revisited those memories in his dreams. He saw it in the weight with which they pulled on them, every time Phil picked up the bottle or Techno wiped the blood off his face with a vacant expression.

He didn't want that for Tommy.

As usual, the world did not care what Wilbur wanted.

Because when Tommy had turned his back on Gaudet, the man decided to die in combat was the only trace of honor left for him. Wilbur called out a warning, scared he'd be too late. Gaudet was raising his arm, in his hand the dagger he had hidden on his person. Tommy spun around, instinctively bringing up his own sword.

And buried it in Guadet's stomach.

The captain of the red guard crumbled like a house of cards under a sudden breeze, soundlessly. Wilbur was next to Tommy a few seconds later, but all help would come too late.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead.

Tommy nodded vaguely. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright, we have all the proof we need here." Techno held up a bundle of cloth and threw it before them. "The stolen uniforms. Between these and our friend's confession back in the warehouse, Phil will see his freedom."

"But we won't get any answers," Tommy said bitterly.

Wilbur reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

It probably wouldn't help to say out loud that life was rarely fair and revenge never did feel sweet.


The courtyard was horribly quiet when Wilbur walked into it.

Phil had been spared the gallows. A soldier of his esteem would go out by firing squadron, as per the laws of France. The muskets were loaded, the men were lined up.

Had they been only half an hour late, they would have been forced to collect Phil's corpse. He was standing there with his eyes upcast, watching the sky for one more fleeting moment before death.

As it was though, Wilbur managed to run between the line of fire before such a disaster could occur.

"Hold your fire!" He held up a rolled-up piece of parchment. "I have an order of release, signed by the king."

The one in charge of the firing squad wasn't hiding his surprise, but he did command his men to lower their guns with a wave of his hand. He beckoned Wilbur over so he could inspect the letter, which Wilbur gladly handed over. He knew it would all be in order. Sam made fast work of it. Once they had the evidence they needed, not even the Cardinal could deny that Phil had been framed.

Eyebrows pinching together, they eventually nodded and allowed two guards to undo the shackles around Phil's wrists. Phil himself hadn't spoken, only stared at Wilbur and the others who were waiting along the outskirts of the courtyard in bewilderment. If Wilbur didn't know any better he'd think the poor guy was in shock.

If there was any man who could look death in the eye and barely blink, it was Phil.

"Get these chains off him," Wilbur said, helping the guards with the task. Techno stepped forward too, helping him shake off the last of the shackles.

When the metal fell away properly, Phil smiled.

"And here I was thinking I finally had shaken you two off."

Wilbur laughed, a matching chuckle echoed from Techno. "Oh, believe me, there are easier ways."

No, the universe should have figured out by now that they were inseparable.

They walked out like that, the three of them side by side. On the edge of the courtyard, Tommy was waiting. He nodded at Phil and Phil nodded back. Wilbur couldn't help but think this was the start of an important change in their group's dynamic.


They celebrated their success at a bar that night. It was well time that Tommy would get to know about those finer things Paris had to offer and which Wilbur so enjoyed.

He shared a table with Techno and Tommy, joking around and drinking. They regaled the much younger boy with stories about their musketeer careers that definitely would have compelled him to join - hadn't Tommy already told them that was his intention. He had nothing to return to in Gascony, he had faithful men who followed his father and who would look after the town. Tommy would do well in their regiment.

And Wilbur found he could get used to the thought.

"You come to Paris to kill Phil and end up helping us safe his life." Wilbur nodded at their friend, who was sitting at another table. One tucked into the corner, where he could be alone with his fourth emptied glass of wine. "After a few drinks, I'm sure he'll appreciate the irony."

"What's wrong with him anyway?" Tommy asked. "He's so... fucking gloomy."

Techno scowled. "Woman trouble."

Wilbur almost giggled at the way Techno said that. As if it was one of the worst things imaginable to him. "There was someone special once," he explained to Tommy. "She died. That's about all he ever said, but it tortures him to this day."

"I better stay behind," Techno sighed. "Somebody needs to carry him home."

With a grand gesture, Tommy put his own glass down. His expression showed that he wasn't enjoying the taste. "That bad?"

"Sometimes. Let me teach you some gambling tricks while we wait." Out of nowhere, Techno pulled out the cards he almost always had on him.

"You two can have fun with that," Wilbur said. He clapped them both on the back when he got up. "I will find my entertainment elsewhere."

"The Cardinal's wife again?" Techno asked. "Right after his men tried to frame Phil too."

"Gaudet's crimes are his own."

With a vague grunt of confirmation from Techno and another moment of squeezing Tommy's shoulder, Wilbur left the bar. The walk to the Cardinal's home was short, the streets alive at every hour in a city like Paris.

The Cardinal himself would not be home. He almost never was, staying at the royal court more often than not. His wife, Adelle, was not the first neglected woman to seek shelter in the arms of another.

Wilbur rang the doorbell. A maid came to answer.

"I'm here to see Adelle." He tipped his hat at the maid and offered her his most charming smile. That usually did the trick.

Except this one sneered. "She isn't home."

"She isn't?"

"The Cardinal was called away to deal with something, a red guard taken into custody had something wrong with him. He died unexpectedly, I suppose. And he was meant to confess still."

Housekeepers were always prone to gossip, but Wilbur knew there was often a kernel of truth in every rumor.

The red guard in custody… The one who they had apprehended as part of proving Phil's innocence?

If he was killed to keep the silence, then this went much above Gaudet's station.

"She asked me to give you this, though."

The maid turned away, picking up a parcel left near the door. Perfectly wrapped in wax paper, deliberately put there with him in mind. It contained a revolver, such as a red guard might use. There was a stain of blood on the barrel and one shot had been fired.

And at that moment, Wilbur knew Adelle was not alive anymore either.


And that's the end...

Well, the end of this fic anyway. Who knows if I'll ever get around to writing the other parts. We'll see ;)