D'Artagnan leaned back in his chair as he listened to the concerns of the old men who were warming themselves by the fire.

'If they raise the taxes anymore it'll cause riots,' said one of the men who had the collar of his thick doublet turned up despite having been inside for some time.

His friend, who was scratching the ears of a cat that had settled on his lap nodded, 'and people are clever now. They won't just blindly follow others. They'll be organised, mark my words.'

D'Artagnan nodded along but hid his amusement. The two old men had been berating the ministers and Royal family for some time, seemingly oblivious to the fact they were talking to one of the King's Musketeers. What had started as a lecture to the closest young man was steadily becoming a tirade of abuse aimed at the upper classes and anyone in charge. D'Artagnan hoped Athos would arrive before the men had finished. Athos was good at talking to people and subtly putting them in their place without them even realising.

Not that d'Artagnan felt the old men needed to be put in their place, what they were saying was true. The strain that was being placed on the general populace due to the continual raising of taxes was real and was creating a tension that would lead to problems.

Problems that the Musketeers would have to deal with.

'And you young people-'

The man with the cat stopped mid-sentence as a raised voice drew his attention. The cat scrambled off the man's lap and darted off, disappearing into the gloom of the tavern.

D'Artagnan twisted around to see what was happening. Two men were having a heated argument in a corner. They were close together, their foreheads almost touching.

D'Artagnan wasted no time getting to his feet and walking over. He gestured to a couple of young men to stay where they were; he did not want to antagonise the two men who were arguing.

One of the men, wearing a dark green jerkin, pushed the shoulder of the other man. The other man, who was wearing a neat black doublet, looked angry. D'Artagnan was quick to grab the man's arm as he pulled it back ready to strike the first man.

Both men looked up at him. The man d'Artagnan had grabbed tugged his arm free.

'What?'

'You need to stop,' said d'Artagnan.

'Stop what? We're just talking,' said the man d'Artagnan had grabbed.

A loud scrape of a chair preceded the man in the jerkin getting to his feet. D'Artagnan could not help the look of shock as he realised how tall and broad the young man was.

'What's your problem Musketeer? We're just having a civilised conversation and you come barging in and stopping us.'

'Yeah,' said the other man as he pushed himself to his feet as well.

Both men were taller than d'Artagnan who guessed they were labourers and, therefore, strong.

'You were about to get into a fight,' said d'Artagnan who unconsciously took a step back.

The man wearing the jerkin threw his head back and laughed before stepping closer and making a grab at d'Artagnan. D'Artagnan stepped back to avoid the meaty hand, he knocked into the table behind him.

'Oi!'

With the situation spiralling out of control d'Artagnan tried to apologise to the man whose drink he had knocked over.

'You think just because you're a Musketeer you have some sort of say. That you're better than us.'

'No, no, no,' said d'Artagnan with a shake of his head and his hands out in submission.

He backed off a little further. If they were outside with plenty of space, he might have considered taking the two men on. But the two men who were ganging up on him were soon six men as the spilt drink man and his friends joined the two labourers. The men advanced on d'Artagnan who realised he had allowed himself to become backed into a corner.

He reached for his gun despite knowing he could not risk firing it. One of the men stepped forward causing d'Artagnan to aim at him. The ploy from the men worked as two others worked together to grab him from the other side. One of the labourers grabbed his wrist and squeezed causing d'Artagnan to drop the gun.

D'Artagnan could not keep track of what happened next, but he knew it involved at least three punches and one kick.

'And stay out,' said someone angrily above him.

D'Artagnan realised he was lying in a puddle outside the tavern. One of the labourers was looming over him brushing dirt from his hands before he turned on his heels and walked back into the tavern. A raucous cheer went up dulled only by the closing door.

'What happened to you?'

D'Artagnan pushed himself up to sit as Aramis crouched beside him and began searching him for injuries. D'Artagnan stared at his friend for a few seconds as he tried to work out what had indeed happened.

'Shall we get 'im out of the puddle first?' suggested Porthos.

D'Artagnan was not given a say as Porthos and Aramis hooked their hands under his arms and pulled him to his feet before walking him to a low wall and sitting him down.

'Did you hit your head?' asked Aramis.

'This is not how you get out of Palace guard duty,' remarked Porthos.

D'Artagnan stared at Porthos blankly.

'The bruises,' Aramis said, 'you are going to have a fine black eye and therefore will not be presentable at court.'

'That could have been worse,' said Athos who appeared from nowhere. 'I spoke to the landlord; it seems our friend here picked a fight with a couple of regulars.'

D'Artagnan shook his head, 'they were about to fight. I stopped them.'

Athos raised an eyebrow, 'they are friends who often have boisterous arguments that include a little pushing and shoving. The landlord said that the rest of the regulars ignore them. But you did not give them a chance to explain themselves; you just went in thinking you were in the right.'

'But…' d'Artagnan trailed off as he thought through what had happened.

'You are lucky it was only you that got injured,' said Athos, who was unable to hide his disappointment.

'And I thought he was going to be diplomatic like you,' said Aramis, earning himself a withering look from Athos.

'You'll be the death of us all,' said Athos with a shake of his head.

'I thought I was helping.'

'Well you weren't,' said Porthos, 'and now you're soaked and injured and going to get in trouble with Treville.'

D'Artagnan sighed, he was still trying to work out what had happened. He wondered if his friends were right when they berated him for charging into situations without thinking. He vowed to think first next time.

Although he hoped there would not be a next time.

The End.

Whumpee: D'Artagnan. Featuring(briefly): Athos, Aramis and Porthos.