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ofahattersmind's A/N: *waves* Hello, Musketeers fandom!
Porthos was, well, stuck. Now, to be fair, the plan had been a magnificent one-truly brilliant, in fact. It remained so until things went wrong.
Porthos shuffled. Compared to his lumbering strut, this pace effectively disguised his normally confident swagger, transforming him into a timid giant. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he hated it.
Men and women shuffled ahead and behind him, all of them shackled together and forced to march only their captors knew where. Only them and Porthos, of course. But then, he wasn't here for the location. He was here to find out just how deeply this particular vein of corruption ran. They couldn't just eradicate slavery in France, but they could cripple it. And by God, Porthos intended to do just that.