"Come on now gentleman, let's keep up the pace. We can be at the Baron's keep by this afternoon at the latest and hopefully be home for it all the sooner."

Athos turned in his seat at the head of their procession trotting along the road to add weight to his order. Though his words were light there was a heaviness sitting on all of their shoulders for theirs was not a simple mission. Treville had sent them on a thankless task with a grim edge in his tone.

"The Baron d'Avery is wanted for sowing dissent against the crown," Treville began to the grouped collection of Musketeers lined in the main Garrison yard for muster. "He has been openly campaigning against his Majesty for months, attempting to grow the small number of men who agree with his way of thinking and who are now under his charge. Like I say it is a small number but the King cannot risk this number growing and d'Avery's calls have started to get louder."

"What are his grievances?" Athos called to the Captain who stood on the upper deck outside his office as he spoke to his men.

"Several men working on the Baron's land have come to the attention of the court bringing stories of his cruelty. He has raised their taxes to a level which they cannot pay and any who fall behind find their property's raised to the ground and their possessions taken." Treville paused at the angry mutterings which broke out amongst the gathered men, almost feeling the fire flashing in d'Artangan's eyes as the memories of his own farm's destruction washed over him.

"The Baron has been a thorn in the King's side for many years and this act was the final straw. He called for the Baron's lands and titles to be taken by the crown and for the Baron to be exiled from France. Needless to say d'Avery did not take the pronouncement well. He refused to vacate his land and barricaded himself into his manner house. Naturally Louis didn't take this very well either and called for the Baron's immediate imprisonment."

"I take it he didn't come out and quietly allow himself to be taken to the Chatelet?" Aramis piped up from beside Athos.

"No, instead he killed several of the Red Guard sent to arrest him and wounded several more before beginning this ill fated attempt at a revolution. Only the Queen's steadying hand has prevented Louis from sending an entire battalion of men raining down upon d'Avery's head. She has a soft spot for him as he was a familiar face at court in her early years as Queen of France. The plan instead is this. We send a group of the Musketeers in where the Red Guard have failed.."

At the word 'failed' several jeers broke out amongst the men resulting in Treville raising his hand for silence once more.

"As I was saying, where they failed."

"Surely he is not set to come any quieter at our word as opposed to that of the Red Guard," Athos said, a frown marring his features.

"Perhaps not but there is a chance that now blood has been shed the Baron will see how hopeless his situation is, especially since the execution order he immediately imposed on himself by killing the guard has been waived in place of a lifetime's imprisonment...again at the urgings of the Queen," Treville replied. The frustration barely held back from his words. "So I shall be sending a group of six of you to offer the Baron this last chance at seeing reason and saving his neck."

As he said this his eyes settled on those of Athos, who nodded imperceptibly.

"Athos, my office," Treville barked before appointing tasks for the rest of the men and turning back into his rooms.

Athos turned to the other three, motioning with his head to the stairs leading to the upper deck of the Garrison. It was by unspoken agreement that the four would make up the main body of the group being sent on this potentially perilous task.

"Athos," Treville started, not even looking surprised to see the other three men fanning out by his side as he stood in front of his Captain's desk.

"There's more to this mission than what you have stated isn't there?" Aramis said, cocking an eyebrow as he looked between Athos and Treville's stony faces.

"Unfortunately yes, for once the Cardinal and I have seen eye to eye on a matter. The Baron cannot be seen to be able to openly disobey the crown and incite revolution and get away without punishment. It is unlikely he will leave his defences quietly, such as they are and also unlikely that the Queen's mercy will be accepted kindly."

"So we are to be a scouting party then?" Athos said, his tone even.

"Yes," Treville began, nodding to himself, "I want the four of you, and two others, to gain entry to his household and take note of everything he has inside. Men, weapons, hell if he has a dog that looks like it might bite I want to know about it."

"Not that I don't mind 'aving the company but why not just send the four of us?" Porthos asked, his brow creased. "It would be a 'ell of a lot quicker."

"We can't pretend that the Baron isn't a dangerous man, pompous and posturing as tales would have us believe aside," Treville started, "he sent several Red Guard to an early grave and I want you to have as much chance to put up a fight as you may but without sending so many men that he instantly primes his muskets at your sight."

"Who are you considering?" Athos asked, head slightly cocked. He clearly was swaying to the wisdom of Porthos' words but not wishing to undermine his Captain in any way.

"I was considering Tristan and Gerard."

"But Tristan is just a boy!" Aramis bit out in spite of himself. Athos held up a hand to quell his movement as Aramis stepped forwards at his words. Athos had seen the Spaniard spending many hours teaching their greenest recruit how to reload a pistol shaving seconds off his time. Precious seconds which could mean the difference between life and death.

"What he lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm and an, albeit rough, set of impressive skills," Treville began in a tone which warned off any more outbursts. "He has to be introduced to the field at some point or another and it is high time we knocked some of that shine off his pauldron."

"He has more experience than I did that first time.." d'Artangan added quietly, eyeing Aramis who radiated tension until his words sank in. The Spaniard lowered his gaze from where it had been burning straight into Treville's and nodded once.

"Gerard as you know is well seasoned and has a head as steady as his hand to boot," Treville continued, now that the tension had diffused somewhat.

"When do we make tracks?" Porthos asked, shifting his feet as he prevented himself from moving to Aramis' side in a silent show of support. The marksman would not appreciate such a display in front of his Captain.

"You will have the morning to make ready. d'Artangan I would like you to find Tristan and Gerard so that I may inform them of the truer nature of this mission. Pack enough provision for several days. It is only a day's ride to d'Avery's keep but you may find it difficult to gain entry so better to be prepared for three at the least. It goes without saying that I want you to be careful. Dismissed."

Athos thought back to the note of uncertainty which had crept into Treville's voice at that last warning and also warmly at the notion that he had asked the four of them into the office separately to Tristan and Gerard to inform them about the mission. He knew that Treville valued their opinions and would have been watching their reactions to the news of the two others joining them like a hawk despite already having come to the conclusion that six men would be better than four.

They were both good men from what he knew of them. Athos was not one for mingling outside of the Garrison so he barely had spoken a word to either man. But he found them agreeable enough to work with and had a certain respect for the scarred, veteran Gerard. Who had proven himself on the field of battle time and time again.

Tristan was green, but then as d'Artangan had pointed out, they didn't come much greener than he had been before his headlong dive into his first mission. Fresh from the fields into combat, and he had turned into a fine Musketeer. Still prone to leading with his heart but experience would temper that. Plus with the five men surrounding him, Tristan had the best chance of a good start to his career. Especially with the way Aramis kept glancing at the boy, worry furrowing his brow. Athos made a mental note to gently chastise the marksman if his attention wavered from their objective.

There had been easy chatter bouncing back and forth amongst their small company over the long hours. The sunlight had begun fading a little time ago but the bantering had not, Tristan eager to join in with anything the others had to say in a telling effort to try to merge into the experienced group, but the words stopped dead at the looming figure of an approaching rider in the distance.

Athos held up a hand from the front of the procession, halting their progress as they awaited the rider's arrival and noting the subtle movement from Aramis at the corner of his eye as he shifted his pistol under his riding cloak, keeping it out of sight.

"Hold, in the name of the King," Athos called across to the man as he reached to within easy talking distance. He did so, his mount prancing below him, steaming and frothing from the mouth, emphasising his haste in reaching them. He made no move to touch the impressive array of weapons adorning his belts, but the sneer ripping across his face spoke of his ill intent towards them.

"Who are you and why are you trespassing on the Baron's lands?" he spat out, contempt in his every words.

"I am Athos of the King's Musketeers, these are my men," Athos began, motioning with his head to the others. "As I understand it these lands no longer belong to d'Avery, but to the crown so it would be impossible for any one of us to be accused of trespassing."

At these words the man's snarl grew, if possible, even uglier.

"The Baron d'Avery owns this land and much more besides and he has made it clear he wants no man loyal to the crown to step upon it," he growled, clearly angry at Athos' lack of respect for his leader.

"Well, I mean, technically we haven't," Aramis said cheekily, taking his foot out of the stirrup and waving it about in the air. Athos only managed to contain an eye roll through sheer force of will.

Predictably the messenger did not find Aramis as funny as he could have either.

"Turn yourselves around and depart or there will be consequences," he grated out, fingers twitching near his pistols.

"Now, now Monsieur, let's keep this friendly shall we?" Gone was the reckless joviality from Aramis' voice, replaced by the chilling ruthlessness Athos was familiar with, but which still made his hackles raise somewhat even after all these years.

At his word, Aramis levelled his concealed pistol, finally revealing that it had been trained on the messenger the entire time they had been talking to him. The steel in the man's eyes glinted and he bared his teeth with a growl. Athos had to commend his bravery, or stupidity, faced with such odds and in the sights of a gun. His hands moved back from his own weapons slowly though, clearly showing he had received the message loud and clear.

"You have an hour to remove yourselves, or you will feel the bite of the Baron's army," he said coldly. Finally, it seemed, able to reign in his anger at their presence.

"Listen mate, 'ow about we start this again hmm?" Porthos' voice cut across from Athos' other side. The man said nothing but cocked his head slightly, eyeing up the new potential threat. "The King sent us 'ere to speak to d'Avery, excuse me, the Baron, and see if we can't put this nastiness behind us."

Porthos' tone was honey to Aramis' steel and despite himself, the man reacted to it. The tension present in his shoulders easing slightly as he shifted in his saddle.

"The Baron wishes to see no one connected to the crown," he began, though a new uncertainty crept into his voice.

"Sure 'e don't but if you explain to 'im that the King 'as sent fresh terms for 'im to think about, surely it's worth the 'assle of a trip back to the 'ouse." Athos sat stock still in his saddle, not wanting to break the spell that Porthos' words had over the man who narrowed his eyes before heaving out a puff of breath.

"I shall...speak to his Lordship and see if he will allow and audience with you..." he started slowly. "But you will wait here until I come back to collect you and if any of you even thinks about trying to lay a hand on the Baron I will personally skin you alive."

With that he turned and kicked at his horse with a "Yah!" and sent it flying back up the pathway leading directly back to d'Avery's mansion.

"Friendly chap wasn't he?" Aramis said, looking around at his comrades.

"That was well done Porthos, Athos said, wheeling his mount around so that he could address them and steadfastly ignoring the grin on his idiotic brother's face. "We will wait and hope that d'Avery is feeling in a pleasant mood but be on your guard. And Aramis, should we by some miracle manage to find ourselves in his presence, you don't get to speak."

"Wha..?" Aramis' started with mock distress.

"No," Athos said, cutting whatever the marksman was going to say short with one of his 'if you continue talking I will hurt you' glares. It worked. For once.

"So assuming we actually get through the doors, what is the plan?" d'Artangan asked, a grin on his face at his brother's antics.

"Be on your guard at all times. Tristan, Gerard, I want the two of you to make note of whatever weaponry they are hoarding. d'Artangan, you and I shall keep track of the men under his command. Aramis and Porthos, I want you to act as rear guard. If any of them so much as touches a pommel, you make them see their mistake."

"Assuming he does actually let us through the doors," Aramis muttered mutinously though humour glinted in his eyes.

"I'm thinking that's an actual possibility," Porthos replied, motioning with his head back towards the road. They all turned in time to see a large cloud of dust kicked into the air by the hooves of several horses. It seemed the disgraced Baron had sent a larger force to deal with the Musketeers this time.

Athos tensed in his saddle as he brought his own horse back around to the front of their band of men. He rested his hand causally onto his sword hilt in, what would seem to anyone who didn't know him, a lazy gesture.

There were seven men aside from the earlier messenger, who pulled up short allowing him to move forward and make first contact once again.

"The Baron has decided he is interested in what you have to say," he said, contempt still rife in his tone. "You will follow us to the house. Any of you so much as breathe in a way which I don't like and it will mean your end."

Without waiting for their answer, he turned to his own men and waved them forward. They instantly surrounded the Musketeers in an obviously pre planned formation, making sure their slightly superior numbers crowded the men as they moved forward en masse back up the disturbed road and towards d'Avery's home.

So here we go again. I started this what feels like forever ago and it still isn't finished although I am motoring towards the end. I'll be heading home home soon to visit the family so I should be able to finish it up by then with the lack of distractions (apart from two idiotic terriers).

I hope you enjoy the ride!

As always, all comments and critiques are gratefully received.