Paris, France 1625
In the Musketeers' headquarters, the large flag that showed the Royal seal was cut down from its place where it proudly hung above the fireplace. The Cardinal's guard had cleared the house of all Musketeers, who now are all gathered in the courtyard.
"What should I do with the Musketeer flag?" a guard asked sheafing his sword as he turned to the man approaching him.
"Burn it." The light coming through the curtained windows only allowed you to see half of his face, which was obscured by his hat. Captain Rochefort.
Two guards lifted the heavy fabric before throwing it into the fire beneath where it once hung. Rochefort stood with a blank stare as he watched it burn, he gave a sneer before he walked out on to the balcony above the courtyard and addressed the crowd.
"Musketeers!" he called calmly, quieting the men before him, "by joint edict of his majesty the King, Louis XIII… and his eminence Cardinal Richelieu, the Musketeers are officially disbanded."
The Musketeers are surprised by this news and started shouting at the men before them. The King would never willingly disband his Musketeers. Rochefort continued talking over the angry men, making them quieten down once again.
"In preparation for the coming war with England, the ranks and commissions are forthwith transferred to the infantry. You shall be notified and told where to report. Until such time, return to your homes."
The group didn't leave and only protested in anger, "and who will protect the King?" one man demanded stepping forward, the others speaking in agreement.
"The Cardinal's guards have already assumed that responsibility," Rochefort answered calmly not showing any emotion on his face. The Musketeers shouted again before quietening once more.
"You are ordered to disperse. Should even one of you resist, the entire corps will be arrested… and imprisoned," an evil smirk graced his lips before he spoke for one final time, "all for one… and one for all."
Slowly the man that spoke out moved towards the fire in front of the balcony, not once taking his eyes off of the cruel man before him. Rochefort watched with a proud smirk as the Musketeer pulled his tunic off his body and threw it onto the fire, he then removed his sword leaning on it before dropping it and walking away.
One by one, the Musketeers did the same before leaving the courtyard. Rochefort's smirk grew at the sight before he walked back inside. Once the courtyard was cleared of all Musketeers, Rochefort and his men waited for the arrival of the Cardinal.
A few moments later the man in question, sauntered through the halls of the headquarters, making his way towards his Captain, without a single word, he stood in front of the man holding out his hand waiting for him to kiss the ring on his gloved hand.
"Your eminence," Rochefort greeted as he knelt and kissed the ring.
"An impressive performance," he praised the man in front of him, "I especially admired that last touch— 'all for one and one for all.' If I didn't know better, I should have thought you wanted them to riot."
"It would have given us an excuse to arrest them," Rochefort replied as he tightened the gloves on his hands.
"Hardly necessary," Richelieu dismissed, as he looked out of the doors to the balcony on which Rochefort stood before hand, "The Musketeers are finished."
"Not entirely," his Captain disagreed, "there are three."
"Three?" the Cardinal simply asked.
"I sent a patrol to find them. They haven't returned yet." The guard beside Rochefort informed them.
"I want those Musketeers, not excuses," Richelieu demanded through gritted teeth, "bring them in at once."
The guard bowed before he left the room, taking a group of men with him. This left the Cardinal and his Captain alone. They stared at each other before the Cardinal turned with a quick swish of his cape, "No loose ends this time, Captain Rochefort." And with that he left the room.
Angered by the fact that three men where not among the others, Rochefort swiftly took out his sword and with one swipe cut three candles in half that were held on a stand behind him. To the naked eye, it seemed like he had done nothing to them until he stepped forward and with the tip of his sword knocked off the tops of the candles one by one.
"Athos. Porthos. Aramis."