Author's note: I write a story like this for all the fandoms I write in. I don't why. I just like it.

Warning: un-betaed. I apologise for all grammar and spelling errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

The Tavern:

Two Red Guards sat in the corner table. A man with a hood sat with them. Coins and a paper were exchanged in silence. The man left. The Red Guard Captain opened the paper. It was a map. He smiled. It was time the Red Guards got their revenge.

Musketeers' Garrison:

The King's Musketeers were sparring in the courtyard of the garrison. Ever since D'Artagnan and the Musketeers unmasked the Cardinal to the Queen and drove Milady out of France, the streets of Paris have been quieter. They still had to deal with wanted criminals but without the Cardinal hatching plans, for now anyway, their jobs were made easier.

Aramis and Porthos watched their two friends sparring. "Oooh!" Aramis winced at how close D'Artagnan got to getting an advantage over Athos. "He's getting good." Aramis whispered to Porthos.

Porthos agreed, impressed "And this time, Athos isn't going easy on him."

Aramis smiled, remembering how D'Artagnan had entered the garrison determined to kill Athos. The boy had a natural way with the sword considering his only training while growing up was on a farm with his late-father. Athos was right when he said D'Artagnan could be the greatest of them all, but in order for him to get there, he needed more than training with his sword.

D'Artagnan laughed as he dodged and parried Athos's moves. He enjoyed training with his friends. He had a lot to learn but he was a quick study and Athos had to admit that he was finding it harder and harder to catch the boy off-guard. Aramis faked attacking D'Artagnan's legs, who moved to block it, only to find another sword at his throat. It was hard, but not impossible. D'Artagnan rose slowly with the tip of Athos's sword still at his throat, smiling. "Careful, Athos. One bump and I'm dead." He carefully pushed the sword aside before sheathing his own. "One day, I am going to take you down." D'Artagnan promised his mentor.

Athos laughed and sheathed his sword, "Don't hold your breath, apprentice. You've still got a lot to learn."

Aramis and Porthos clapped as they walked up to them. It was an impressive duel. "I can go again." D'Artagnan was saying. "Unless you're too tired. I'll show you how much I've learned."

Aramis shook his head at the over-zealous young man, "Not today. Today, you have training of another sort." He threw his arm over D'Artagnan's shoulder and led him over the table by the steps. On it was a travel satchel and a map.

D'Artagnan frowned at the items. "What's this for?" He opened the satchel and found a couple of bandages, a flint, a small knife and a gauze. He raised his eyebrows at his friends, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"They're the bare essentials for survival training." Athos pointed to the map on the table. "You are to head out to this area in the woods beyond the outskirts of Paris."

D'Artagnan leaned in closer to the map. He knew the area well enough. He was about to pick it out when a dagger came down on it, pinning it to the table. D'Artagnan pulled his hand back, glaring at Porthos, "You almost took my hand off."

Porthos waved away the complaint, "Ehh…I barely touched you."

"What was that for anyway?"

"You're not taking the map." Aramis explained, "You see, there are times when Musketeers are given missions so secretive that they cannot carry any item that may reveal details of the mission. Including…" Aramis gestured to the map, "A map. You need to memorise the exact location because you won't get to see it a second time." He pulled out Porthos's dagger and folded up the map, handing the dagger back to Porthos.

D'Artagnan shrugged, "So when do I start?"

Athos shoved the satchel into D'Artagnan's chest, "Now." He turned D'Artagnan around shoved him towards the gate.

D'Artagnan turned around, "Now?"

The three Musketeers looked at him and smiled. "There are also times when you have no time to prepare. This is preparing you for that time as well." D'Artagnan let out a breath and turned back around. "It shouldn't take you more than three days! There's a surprise waiting at the end for you. Bring it back to complete the training!" Porthos called at D'Artagnan's back. D'Artagnan threw a wave behind him and continued.

"Five livres he doesn't make it on time." Porthos opened the bet. He did enjoy a wager.

"You don't have five livres." Aramis snorted, "Anyway, you'll lose. I bet he'll make it with half a day to spare."

"I'll take that bet." Porthos laughed, "And I managed to get 30 livres for the tournament with the Red Guards, I'll manage five." He turned to Athos, "How about you?"

Athos shook his head, for some reason he had a bad feeling in his gut. "I should follow him."

"Not a chance. He has to be able to do this on his own." Aramis exclaimed. "Anyway, he'll think you don't have faith in him and that's worse than failing the test for him."

Athos sighed, the bad feeling wouldn't go away, "I know, it's just…"

"Nothing. The kid has proven himself ten times over, he'll make it. He may be young, but he's a survivor." Porthos reassured his friend, giving his shoulder a squeeze, "So care to make a wager."

Athos nodded, his friends were right, he needed to have more faith in the young Gascon. "He'll make it with a day to spare."

Aramis whistled, "And I thought I was optimistic."

Porthos grinned, "It's like taking candy from a baby."

D'Artagnan smiled as he made his way through the woods. He loved his job and he loved being out in the open. If he was out here with his friends, it would be make this day perfect but seeing as it's a part of his training he will take it in stride. He walked for about a couple of hours when his stomach grumbled. He stopped with a hand on his stomach, "They could've let me have some lunch before sending me off." He complained to himself before he remembered this being a survival training which would include being able to find food. "Well, they've left me with my sword and my pistol. This shouldn't be too hard."

Two hours later…

D'Artagnan finished off his lunch and stood quickly. He wasted a lot of time hunting for game. He wasn't happy with himself. He had gone hunting with his father plenty of times, he didn't understand why it took so long this time. He needed to make up for time. Which meant no rest for at least six hours. He's done it before. The hare he caught was big enough to last him the rest of the mission as long as he rationed it.

Musketeers' Garrison…

It was getting dark and most of the men had retired for the night. Athos sat on the steps and drank his wine. Aramis and Porthos have spent the entire day trying to take his mind off D'Artagnan, but now that they have each left searching for their night's conquest, the bad feeling in his gut returned. It was the same feeling he had when they had sent D'Artagnan to find out where Vadim had hidden the gunpowder. He wished he had Aramis's and Porthos's faith in the boy, or at least didn't worry about him so much. It was frustrating for Athos to be feeling this way. He shook his head at himself. This was stupid. He was worrying over nothing. Finishing off his wine, he stood and retired to his room.

D'Artagnan looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, which meant it was time he found a place to rest. As much as he wanted to continue, travelling at night was dangerous and foolish. However, he still had about half an hour of daylight left, which gave him time to find a good place to settle for the night.

He heard the 'snap' before the pain registered, bolting up his right leg and sending him onto his back. "AAAAHHHHHH…" The scream resounded throughout the woods but were only heard by animals.

Athos frowned at the broken wine bottle he had just knocked over while getting ready for sleep. Hmmm…he must've drank more than he thought.