Things had rapidly gone from bad to worse.

Tommy's hands wouldn't stop shaking. He was trying to hide that, desperately keeping his elbows locked against his sides so he could reel in the trembling. He'd been with the musketeers for a couple of weeks now, he had seen people die before. Had watched the way a musket ball could tear through flesh, or a sword could cut out a man's innards. He had watched his own father bleed out.

Maybe that was why. Blood seeping out of Techno's neck fast, soaking into the sandy ground of some random backroad with nobody to help or provide medical aid as far as the eye could see. Wilbur's panic was foreign to Tommy. Even with Phil accused of murder and almost seeing the gallows, Wilbur had been tense but not at a wit's end. Techno's wound had to be really bad if Wilbur was freaking out this badly over it.

And Phil's reaction was even more concerning.

Tommy wouldn't have guessed in a million years that Phil would be cold enough to put any of their lives in danger. Why the fuck would he try to insist they keep riding when it would mean a certain, painful death for Techno?! Tommy couldn't wrap his head around it. He could only be grateful that after a little bit of pushing, Phil had changed his tune and was now directing them towards a nearby place. Even if the fact that it took this long for Phil to relent still left a bitter taste at the back of his throat. The silence hung over them heavy and uncomfortable. Phil was leading the front, while Wilbur took the rider's seat at the cart. Bonnaire was quiet for once. He was pale and restless, drained of all humor. A shadow of the grandiose man Tommy had seen him pretend to be before.

Tommy didn't know if he had enough empathy to be worried about Techno, or if Bonnaire was only worried about his own skin.

Because another mystery was who exactly was after the trader and why. Apparently, he managed to piss his former business partner off enough that Monier saw fit to hire a gang of bandits and ambush a group of musketeers. That was pretty extreme behavior, even if Bonnaire had scammed Monier out of a ton of money by making him fund extravagant trips to the continent for years without paying anything back. And Monier had insisted the scouts tracking them had nothing to do with him, implying it was another enemy of Bonnaire's. Not to mention the Spanish officials back at the pub-

God, Tommy was about to start praying again if it meant they all made it back to Paris in one piece.

"How much farther is it?" Wilbur asked tersely. Every once in a while, he shoved the reins into Bonnaire's hands and crawled into the back of the cart. He didn't even care anymore that Bonnaire might try to run off. He was solely focused on checking in on Techno. Tommy hadn't heard the other man in a while. Either he had fainted or he was very good at hiding how much pain he was in.

"We're about there," Phil said. "Past this town."

"Town?" Tommy dug his heels into his horse's flank, joining Phil at the front. He hadn't noticed it since they weren't following a road, traversing on Phil's navigational skills alone through thin undergrowth and farmland. But Phil was right, there was a town ahead of them.

Or maybe calling it as much was generous. The village could not consist of much more than seven houses or so, scattered in a semicircle with a decent distance between them. Some people were lingering around outside, talking and carrying baskets of harvest. One woman was drawing water from a well in the middle. This land must be rife with farms - they'd passed field after field in getting there, Tommy just had been a little too preoccupied with his worry to spot any homes. But in a sense, it was very similar to where he grew up, although more sparsely populated.

Tommy wondered what noble owned this land.

As they rode between the houses, still following Phil, he noticed all the villagers' eyes on them. Not unexpected, since they probably didn't see musketeers around these parts often. Something else felt off about it though. Nobody came up to them, or asked them what they were doing there. They whispered among themselves, voices too hushed to make out. They were all staring at Phil.

Phil, who was very stubbornly keeping his chin up and his eyes fixed ahead of him, not acknowledging the attention they were drawing.

"This is uh, this is weird, right?" Tommy asked Wilbur. Wilbur blinked up at him for a moment before responding, too preoccupied with the dire situation Techno was in to really register Tommy talking to him at first.

"Yeah, there's usually a lot more cheering when we arrive somewhere," Wilbur quipped back lamely. The attempt at a joke was lackluster at best, but Tommy appreciated him for trying to lighten the mood.

But when Wilbur looked around again, it was clear he also noticed the villagers had a certain disbelief to them, a certain anger. The kind that only came with recognition. And all of it aimed at Phil. It made Tommy swallow uncomfortably.

"There we go." Phil sighed and sat back in the saddle. They had just crested a small hill on the other side of the buildings, staring at the grassy plain that sloped down beyond and was clear of trees. And in the hollow of the valley, Tommy saw one of the largest manors he ever laid eyes on.

"Woah…"

If Phil had told him this estate was a summer house the king used for vacation getaways, he would certainly have believed it. The building was made of a pale yellow stone, three floors tall with a massive amount of windows Tommy couldn't even begin to count. There had to be over a dozen rooms in there! And Phil simply led them towards it, showing no concern or surprise that they'd find such a lavish place in the middle of nowhere.

A mystery only deepened when they arrived at the heavy wooden door of the manor and Phil simply pulled open the entrance as if it was nothing.

Wilbur had Techno's arm slung over his shoulder, not wasting any time rushing inside. But Tommy took a moment to take it all in. The inside of the manor was dusty, and while there was furniture, all of it was covered in white cloth. Phil walked with purpose, giving the appearance that he knew exactly what he was doing. They ended up in a sort of sitting room. While Phil undid the latches and allowed waning sunlight to fall into the room, Tommy pulled away one of the fabrics that hid a settee from view. With the room no longer dark, it was really hard not to notice how absolutely abysmal this place looked. As if nobody had stepped foot inside it for many years.

"I'll tell you something," Bonnaire said as he walked in after them, bag slung over his shoulder. "If this palace is for sale, I'd certainly be interested."

"It's not," Phil said coldly, unlatching the shutters on a second window.

Bonnaire looked around the drab, abandoned interior. "No, you're right. I guess it is a little dark in here."

"I don't suppose there's anything to take the edge off?" Techno asked, pushing himself upright with laborious breathing. He had one hand clutched against his shoulder, over the improvised bandages Wilbur had fixed him up with on the road. They were already soaked through with blood.

Tommy frowned at how pale Techno was, and the sweat that trailed down the side of his jaw. Wilbur said that if Techno couldn't get stitched up soon, he wouldn't see the next sunrise.

"There's a fully stocked wine cellar," Phil said.

"Oh, I got something better!" Bonnaire dropped his bag on the ground and started to riffle through it. Tommy could tell Phil wasn't much in the mood for the man's antics, but then Bonnaire pulled a dark green bottle from his supplies. "They call this little number 'Kill Devil' in the colonies. It's made from sugar molasses, highly potent."

Techno held his hand out for the bottle. "Good enough."

Tommy briefly wondered if alcohol really did numb pain. He'd never tried it before, though he assumed at this point anything would be better than nothing. He watched Phil open the final shutter, then lean onto the sill for a moment.

He was almost as pale as Techno, though for a very different reason probably.

"So… how did you know about this place?" Tommy asked carefully. Yes, they had to get Techno tended to as quickly as possible, but he couldn't help being really curious as to why Phil seemed very familiar with this manor and the village. And why he'd gone as far as almost risking his best friend's life if it meant he could avoid setting foot in there again.

Everything about this was so fucking suspicious.

And Phil must know too, because he did not hesitate in answering. He turned around, eyes dark. Tired with a burden that Tommy could barely grasp.

"I own it," Phil said.

Wilbur was cleaning his hands in preparation for what he was about to do.

Patching people up had always been his job. Phil and Techno were his patients, mostly. But he knew his way around first aid well enough that most of the musketeers had relied on Wilbur's skill at one time or another. He had little formal training, just mountains of experience. Being more comfortable wielding a gun over a sword meant Wilbur was often not as close to the battle as most soldiers, firing at enemies from a safe distance. This led to situations where - unless he got very unlucky and caught a bullet himself - he often stayed relatively uninjured compared to the other two.

So it made sense that Wilbur taught himself how to fix them up in dire emergencies. Especially when there wasn't a medic on hand.

"You were the comte de La Fère?" Wilbur asked Phil. The man had taken to the wine himself after Techno drank all the good stuff. Wilbur did not need to be a genius to realize Phil was hoping to get pretty drunk tonight so he didn't have to face that he was sleeping in his family estate, once beautiful and loved, returned to an abandoned shell of former glory.

"I never hid that I was highborn," Phil said with a little shrug.

"Sure, but you failed to mention you were a count. That's pretty high up in the nobility." Wilbur wiped his hands one final time. The last thing they needed was for Techno to get an infection when it was half a miracle he hadn't bled out yet. "How many servants did it take to run this place."

Phil was drinking another mouthful straight from the bottle, before wiping his chin with his sleeve and answering. "Only about twenty."

"Heh, quite modest then," Wilbur scoffed. Phil ignored his sarcasm.

"Servants make me uncomfortable."

Wilbur turned around to where they had laid Techno down on a table. The settee was too low for him to work on. As he pulled out a leather pouch that had some simple stitching supplies in it, Bonnaire paled slightly and started to get up.

"If you gentlemen don't… don't mind, I'll wait outside. The sight of blood makes me feel faint." He tried to head for the door, but Tommy was leaning against it. The younger man shook his head.

"No fucking way. Sit down."

"That's- That's fine too, I suppose." Bonnaire did as he was told, hunching in on himself a little as he shuffled to the table's other side. He might be speaking the truth about being squeamish, but he was also still formally under arrest. The musketeers could not risk him trying to weasel away while they were busy with Techno.

"I'd thought you'd be good at this yourself," Wilbur pointed out. "You're always on those adventures, are you not?"

"Ah, well, I'm better with sails than skin," Bonnaire said.

Techno propped his chin onto his hand to look at him. He was lying on his stomach, since the wound was mostly near the back of his shoulder and the side of his throat. His long hair, messily undone from his braid, hung to the other side. How he managed to grin despite the pain had to be a testament to how stubborn he was. "Wilbur isn't good at a lot of things, but he does some fine needlework. He should have been a seamstress."

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Rich words coming from the guy who got stabbed." He gently poked at the wound to assess it, which made Techno wince. Then he redirected to point at a scar on Techno's other shoulder instead. "Two inches deep, that blade went. You wouldn't say from looking at it, right?"

Techno chuckled as if it was funny.

"This one I fixed up in the middle of a battle, actually." Wilbur indicated another scar, lower on Techno's back. He had to fish a musket ball out of flesh for that one. Tommy stepped a little closer too, curious. Every musketeer had scars, but Techno's skin was a canvas on itself. "Stitching that's fine enough for the Queen's chemise," Wilbur said proudly.

"Weren't we in a fucking hurry?" Tommy asked suddenly. Wilbur glanced at him, feeling bad that the kid had become this anxious while he was messing around. He'd felt his own panic at first, but since they got to shelter Wilbur was a lot more calm since he could control the situation again. He knew he could make sure Techno would be alright.

"Right, right. If you would prepare the patient." He waved over Phil, who had been standing against the wall in silence for the entire time. Too preoccupied with the whole 'tragic-family-past' thing Wilbur was hoping to pry out of him later. They'd done this song and dance many times before though. Phil knew what was expected of him. He came over with resigned reluctance. This was always his least favorite part.

"Techno," he said, tapping the man on the arm so he would look up.

Then Phil reared back and slammed his fist into the side of Techno's face as hard as he could manage.

Techno was knocked out instantly. Again, this wasn't the first time they'd done this. Tommy was looking at them in complete shock, however. Wilbur forgot this was a first for him.

"What the fuck?!"

"You're a bunch of brutes!" Bonnaire cried out, as if this action was singlehandedly the most barbaric thing he'd ever seen.

Wilbur carefully peeled back one of Techno's eyelids to assure himself he was fully passed out, while Phil walked back to his spot at the wall.

"It's the best thing to do when it comes to Techno," he said. "We've learned from experience, trust me."

"His fight or flight instinct skews a little heavily to the fight side," Wilbur added, getting out needle and thread. He had to work swiftly, to get the job done before Techno came around again.

After all, he always preferred a patient who wouldn't try to stab him in the middle of getting their stitches.

An hour or two later, Techno pushed himself upright on the couch again. He rubbed his jaw, gingerly flinching when his fingers pressed into the fresh bruise. "Did someone punch me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, we'd never do that!" Tommy answered quickly - so quickly it almost had Wilbur choking on his glass of wine.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

The sun had fully set outside, allowing the room to be cast in darkness aside from the few candles they lighted before. Phil was off again, Wilbur didn't bother to ask him where he'd be. The man was clearly in a foul mood and Wilbur had a sneaking suspicion it would not improve until they were long gone, back on the road to Paris. Sadly, they would probably need to spend the night before that could happen.

"Better than before," Techno muttered. He was regaining some of the flush to his cheeks, though that might just be the alcohol he drank to numb the pain.

"You should rest," Wilbur told him anyway. Techno made a noise that wasn't quite an agreement, nor was it a refusal. For a man like him, it was about the best Wilbur could expect.

Self-care had never been one of Techno's virtues.

"I quite like staying in a place such as this for a while," Bonnaire felt the need to put in. He was pouring over some papers where he sat in his own spot on the ground. "It's delectably lavish, isn't it? Even if it has seen better days. I suppose I'd love to have a place like this one day, in the colonies."

"I believe the king is tied to a treaty with Spain," Techno said. "So France won't be building any settlements on foreign soil for a while. He's not even allowed to add new ships to the navy."

"Eh, treaties are just pieces of paper, aren't they?" Bonnaire swung his quill around to underline his point.

"Might that be why the king wants to see you?" Wilbur asked. He didn't keep up to date with politics, but it would certainly explain why Bonnaire was so infamous, if he was trespassing on Spanish interests.

"Or why the Spanish are after you?" Tommy added, also putting two and two together.

"Ah, you lot lack imagination," Bonnaire said. "I'll gain my own piece of paradise over there. I'll farm tobacco and retire. Grow fat and stagnant." He seemed to take some pride in the thought.

"Farming is hard fucking work," Tommy said, defending the occupation that had been held by his family for many generations.

Bonnaire smirked. "Not in the colonies. Labor is cheap. All I need to do is manage the whole thing from my porch, with one beauty sitting in my lap and the other mopping my brow."

"Sounds like paradise," Wilbur said, only half-sarcastic.

"If you're interested, there are opportunities for men like you in the colonies. You could join me. All of you."

Wilbur shook his head, returning to cleaning his instruments. As harsh as musketeer life could be, he wasn't very tempted to give it up for something so outlandish.

"Opportunities like the ones you're working on?" Techno asked, nodding at Bonnaire's bundle of papers.

"Just planning my next trip already." Bonaire seemed to hold no fear that the king would detain him for long. "With these ships, it's important to draft your supplies, and make sure the load is evenly distributed."

Stretching out an arm towards him, Techno grunted as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "I wouldn't mind taking a look. Would be a great distraction from the pain, actually. And I like teaching myself new things."

Bonnaire brightened. "Ah, so you're an autodidact."

Techno blinked at him, completely at a loss. Wilbur almost laughed at his expression.

"It means a self-taught man," Bonnaire clarified. "Like myself, actually."

"I did teach myself to read, if that counts," Techno said.

Bonnaire smiled. But then he suddenly rolled up his papers and started to shove them away. "Another time, perhaps. My eyes are tired and it's late, isn't it?"

The instant turn of his offer did strike Wilbur as odd, though he had no chance to ponder on it as Phil walked back into the room. The wine bottle from earlier remained clutched in his hand, barely any liquid left inside.

"How are you?" he asked Techno.

Techno lay back down on the settee. "Fine as a fiddle, really."

Phil nodded, before turning to Wilbur as the actual authority on Techno's health. "Can he travel tomorrow?"

"If he must," Wilbur answered. "Don't overdo it though-" He pinned Techno with a small glare. "You better not ruin my needlework by tearing your stitches."

"You make it sound so tempting," Tommy joked. Wilbur glared at him too.

"We leave in the morning," Phil said. "No use lingering."

"I'd thought you'd like it here," Bonnaire said. "Wouldn't your childhood home bring back all kinds of fond memories?"

Phil turned and walked off without a word.

"Isn't he just a fucking ray of sunshine," Tommy muttered.

Wilbur stayed silent. He'd known Phil for years already, and maybe some part of him was foolish enough to believe he was trusted by the man as good as any. They were friends. He thought he knew all there was to know about Phil - or the important bits, at least. One simple trip was casting a lot of doubt onto his mind that he ever knew Phil at all. And that felt… Well, it didn't feel nice.

Sharing a sentiment with the older man himself, Wilbur would be more than glad to leave this place behind them.