The two men circled each other warily, watching for tells, for tiny indications that might signal the next move the other would make. Would it be a low lunge trying to get under the other's defenses or an aggressive overhand attack requiring a close parry and leaving their opponent vulnerable to the main gauche in the opposite hand? So far, they had been rather evenly matched, but as the duel wore on, it was going to be stamina and experience that would win the day.

While some part of Athos was still chiding himself for allowing himself to be drawn into a duel at all, most of him was enjoying this. The elder son of the Comte du Bellay was a well-trained swordsman. It was rare for Athos to find an opponent outside of the Musketeers who could hold his own in a swordfight with him. The man was skilled, thoughtful and patient. His first parries were tests, and he quickly ascertained that Athos was slower to the left, obviously nursing the remnants of some injury. His drives had been targeted there after that, but he still could not gain enough on the seasoned soldier to exploit that weakness into an advantage. Athos for his part had let the man pursue the offensive, counting on his experience and better conditioning to parry the attacks and wait for signs that his opponent was tiring. Watching the man panting in front of him now, it seemed that tactic was paying off.

Aramis and Porthos stood to the side as seconds, watching with cool eyes and slight smiles as their comrade wore down his opponent. As du Bellay tired, his finesse started to slip. The attacks became clumsy as he tried instead to power through some of Athos's sharp defenses. The more experienced Musketeers, masters of combat themselves, could appreciate Athos's strategy in this. He did not want to kill, or even wound, the son of a Comte, so to win, he needed to push the man to a place where he could be subdued and give in. Athos was a fine enough swordsman to take this tactic and manage to remain unscathed himself and his fellow Musketeers, as always, remained impressed by the skill and intelligence with which Athos could handle a blade.

D'Artagnan however was not so sure. This was only his second experience with an actual duel – the first having been one they had instigated in order to get D'Artagnan thrown into a prison cell with the criminal Vadim. That time, he had been encouraged to fight in any way that allowed him to win. He had understood duels to be honorable things, and had learned through that experience that there was no honor in needlessly dying. But now this, to not really fight at all? Two months of sparring with the man regularly and D'Artagnan knew without a doubt that Athos was the better swordsman. He didn't understand why his mentor was prolonging this.

The six young men on the other side seemed to be having the same thoughts. They had gone from cheering their support of the young lord when he pursued an attack, to taunting Athos as a coward, afraid to move on the offensive. They could see the frustration growing in du Bellay, and Athos to them was now toying with their man, trying to humiliate him and perhaps not take the duel seriously. The mood was shifting, and tensions rising on both sides. Du Bellay's men shouted now at the Musketeers, calling them cowards as well. The three soldiers shifted their relaxed stance to one of alert. Hands still casually at their sides but ready to move to hilts and pistols should the situation further deteriorate. If Athos did not end this soon, there was likely to be a full out brawl and none of the Musketeers wanted that.

Infinitely patient, Athos waited for the opening he wanted. Du Bellay tried for a cross-side lunge and over extended as Athos slipped to the side. Athos continued his spiral away, but looped his arm with his main gauche around du Bellay's extended sword arm. Du Bellay, entangled with Athos, lost his footing and twisted to the ground. It was an easy matter then for Athos to further twist his arm, disarming the prone man. As du Bellay's sword clattered to the ground, Athos released the young man's sword arm and kneeled into his chest, pinning the young man's dagger hand to the ground. He crossed his own main gauche and sword at du Bellay's neck.

"Yield, sir," Athos said in a quiet voice of command. The man tried to push back, but the weight of Athos on his chest and arm left him flailing helplessly. He shifted his neck and felt the nick of Athos's blade bite his skin. Athos raised an eyebrow but did not shift his blades, "Do you yield, Sir?" he asked again, this time the tone holding threat.

Du Bellay knew he was defeated. "Yield, yield," he answered, laying his head back to the ground in submission and letting his limbs go limp. Athos immediately released him and sheathed his blades. He extended a hand to the prone young man to help him to his feet.

"Well-fought, sir," he said with honest respect, "I consider the matter closed." Du Bellay shoved Athos's hand away and pushed himself up on his elbows. His seconds were at his side a moment later, helping him up to his feet, picking up his weapons and brushing off his clothes.

Athos again tried to make amends. "You are a good swordsman. You fought honorably for what you thought was right. But there was no need for this," Athos said pointedly, "I was not the man who pursued your sister into the garden."

"Get out of my sight, Musketeer," du Bellay's lips curled in disgust as he said the word, "I don't need your empty words. You took advantage of my sister and then were too much the coward to even try to fight me in earnest. Your soldier tricks may have saved you, but you have no honor," he nearly spat.

Nonplussed, Athos shrugged and turned his back on the sputtering young noble and rejoined his friends. He handed his weapons to D'Artagnan while Porthos helped him on with his leather doublet. Aramis, hat slung low over his brow, kept a surreptitious watch on du Bellay and his friends. The group seemed unusually agitated, lingering around when most men would simply gather themselves and leave.

"Took your sweet time, 'eh?" Porthos quipped as he helped Athos to re-dress.

Athos raised an eyebrow and cocked his head as he buckled up his doublet. "Would you rather I had speeded things up by killing the eldest son of one of Louis's favorite nobles during an illegal duel over the virtue of his sister?" he responded coolly.

"No, no" Porthos laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, "We don't need any of that."

D'Artagnan handed Athos his weapons, a quizzical look on his face. "Would you have done it though," D'Artagnan asked, "if he had not been the son of an important noble? Would you have killed him?"

Athos sheathed his sword, and paused, main gauche in hand, choosing his words, "I won't kill unless I'm left with no other choice," he said, "There is no honor any other way."

"But you agreed to a duel," D'Artagnan continued, "Shouldn't you fight in earnest? Don't you dishonor your opponent then by refusing to adhere to the rules?"

"There are other rules at play, D'Artagnan," Athos answered, "Musketeers live to a higher code."

"Athos," Aramis interrupted quietly, nodding over toward du Bellay's group. The young noble had refastened his doublet, but had not sheathed his sword. In fact, two others of his group had drawn and now seemed to be arguing with the others about what to do next. From their glances and angry voices it appeared the seven of them were considering their odds against the four musketeers.

"Gentlemen," Athos's voice was soft but the tone of command unmistakable, "I suggest you take your leave now," he arched a brow, his hard gaze emphasizing his words.

"Or what will you do?" du Bellay spat, "Are your men cowards as you? Perhaps they would like to fight instead?"

"Brawling in the park is against the King's law," Aramis said with a smile, "You wouldn't want us to arrest you now, would you?"

"Hypocrites," he sneered, "You pick and choose what laws you uphold?"

"In my case," Athos said, "I knew there was no chance of bloodshed. In your case," Athos looked du Bellay and his men up and down, "I'm certain someone will be bleed." The taunt was too much for du Bellay. He stepped forward with his sword raised, two of his companions following behind him, weapons already drawn. D'Artagnan moved beside Athos and made to draw his sword, but a small gesture from Athos stayed his hand. None of the musketeers had drawn weapons, but Porthos, no blade to hand, stepped between the advancing men and the musketeers.

"Gentlemen," he said with infinite politeness, "you heard my friend. There is to be no brawling here today." His lips curled in a taunting smile, "Unless of course you would like to try your hand with me." He took in all three men with an eager and hungry glance, "I'm happy to hear the crack of your hard skulls beneath my fist if it will teach you a lesson in obeying the King's laws."

"My friend's wisdom is matched only by his size" Aramis offered, "So please gentlemen, take your leave."

For a moment, they all stood frozen, on a tipping point between violence and rational thinking. Porthos's size alone was a deterrent to most people, and the prospect of facing him and a trio of battle-tested swordsmen was not appealing to most of du Bellay's young entourage. Still, D'Artagnan held his breath, ready to move quickly should their tactics to diffuse the situation not work. Several long heartbeats passed and then du Bellay, broke the tension.

"Enough of this," du Bellay snarled, "I've wasted enough time here," he turned his back and returned to his men, snatching his brocade doublet from the hands of his second. He shrugged himself into the doublet and allowed one of his men to help fasten it at the shoulders and under his arm. "You, Musketeers," he spat at Athos, "You forget yourselves. You are lucky I don't enter a complaint with the King," his eyes grew hard and his lips curled in a menacing smile and his eyes fixed on Athos. "This is not over." He stalked off, his men muttering about filthy soldiers as they followed behind him.

"Fine fellow there," Porthos said sarcastically, "You spare his life, and he ends up threatening you."

"We must not be doing a good job building our fearsome reputation," Aramis said, flashing a smile to his comrades. "This maintaining the public safety is thirsty work," he added, "I suggest we retire to some refreshment." The men smiled in agreement, Aramis putting a hand on Porthos's shoulder, leading the way. D'Artagnan and Athos followed behind, back to the Paris streets and toward a tavern and a bottle of wine.