M. von Strom - The Cardinal's Red Lily

ʹRochefort?ʹ asked Bernajoux in his usual short manner and Jussac growled between his teeth, ʹCertainly, Rochefort.ʹ

ʹWhat did he want this time?ʹ Biscarat found more words, even if that made him the target of Jussac's wrath. ʹYou've to ask that?!ʹ

ʹTrouble?ʹ Bernajoux stood by his friend immediately to share Jussac's anger fairly among them. His crooked nose twitched in amusement.

ʹMaking trouble!ʹ Jussac paused and took a deep breath. Although Rochefort had called him away from the others, he had not confided a secret to him in the end. He was allowed to tell them. ʹRochefort wishes me to keep a watchful eye on a new recruit in our ranks.ʹ

ʹWhom?ʹ

ʹHe didn't say.ʹ

Bernajoux snorted. ʹHelpful.ʹ

ʹExtraordinary! We'll find out tomorrow who is foisted on us.ʹ Jussac caught himself clenching one hand in a fist. He eased his fingers without feeling much better.

Meanwhile, Biscarat rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ʹThat doesn't sound good. Nepotism? Someone who isn't cut out to be a guardsman and should learn under your wing? Someone who doesn't belong here?ʹ The spy in Biscarat suddenly seemed to continue this thought with a little too much enthusiasm. ʹOr he has a skeleton in his closet, he is someone under surveillance. Whose loyalty is not guaranteed. Possibly Rochefort is preparing a trap for him and-ʹ

Jussac had to put a stop at this point before the Gascon got bogged down in heated speculation. ʹHeavens, I do not know! As always, we are only vicarious agents, with no right to get any explanations!ʹ

Biscarat cleared his throat. ʹDid Rochefort mention nothing else?ʹ

ʹHe called him reservedly 'a friend'.ʹ

ʹThen he's definitely not one!ʹ said Biscarat gleefully and with his own logic. Bernajoux, on the other hand, took a more pragmatic approach and said, ʹWe'll help you.ʹ

Jussac achieved half a smile. Talking to his friends had dampened his anger. He could rely on their support. There has never been any talk of this task really was falling to the lieutenant alone. ʹRochefort will have six eyes at his service. He should be satisfied with that. Let's leave it by that for now. To duty, shirkers!ʹ

Bernajoux and Biscarat knew when the friend became the superior. They saluted obediently and then parted ways for today's guard duty and patrols or, in Jussac's case, for a consultation with the captain. The lieutenant of the guards doubted that Luchaire had learned more from Rochefort and indeed, an hour later, Jussac could be quite sure of it; The captain, too, had been given this new addition without prior discussion, and he was not exactly happy about it. Still no name, no background. Either Luchaire did not know or forgot to share his knowledge. Instead, he immediately passed the responsibility on to Jussac. The lieutenant concealed the fact that Rochefort had already given him this honourable task.

Later, Cahusac and Sorel told him that lieutenant d'Artagnan had paid an unexpected visit to the palace in the morning. For an interlocution with His Eminence in person! That troublesome musketeer - former musketeer! - of all things crawled out of the hole today that he had dug for himself! D'Artagnan was known to be constantly involved in royal court intrigues. What might it be this time? Jussac only hoped to remain unmolested and not to have to chase the bastard and arrest him. Not again.

The news was not more conducive to Jussac's mood, but at least it distracted him from brooding over Rochefort's unusual request. By evening, he had almost forgotten about the new recruit. He remembered just in time before official hours ended to instruct young Sorel to go to the cardinal's study tomorrow and to expect there... whomever. Jussac really had better things to do than personally pick up every insignificant foot soldier!

Exhausted from duty, Jussac finally left for home and promised himself a soothing bath in the tub to end the day in a halfway conciliatory manner.

ʹGo away!ʹ D'Artagnan lay on his bed, face turned to the wall, and rolled his eyes as the knocking on his door repeated insistently. His landlady was a great nuisance, he had no appetite - neither for her nor for her good stew.

He remained obstinately silent when there was a third knock on his bedroom door. He toyed with the idea of simply pulling the blanket over his head and sleeping through this terrible day. But the Chevrette didn't seem to want to let him do that. Broads! Behind Madeleine's beautiful deer-like eyes and bulging breasts was not much common sense to be found.

D'Artagnan did not move and for the next few moments it remained silent outside his bedroom. Then the handle was pushed and the door swung open. Angrily, d'Artagnan threw his pillow at the Chevrette, who really should have known better after all these years! He also struck superbly, right in the face.

However, one blink of an eye later, it was not his pretty landlady who stared at him flabbergasted, but the Comte de Rochefort. D'Artagnan stared back with the same expression and sat up. ʹWhat do you want now?ʹ

Without any further invitation, Rochefort stepped into the room and loosely threw the pillow back on the bed. ʹYou left something in the study.ʹ

ʹAnd that could not have waited until tomorrow?ʹ D'Artagnan watched the stable master discontentedly as he pulled up a chair. Apparently, he wanted to settle down here as if it were his own home. The former musketeer, and since a few hours also former lieutenant, remained seated on the edge of the bed and watched his visitor hostilely. Completely unimpressed by this, Rochefort presented a letter with the cardinal's seal. D'Artagnan glanced at it and immediately recognised an order to conscript. Along with the reference to his new rank as a common soldier.

Instead of accepting the documents, he snorted disparagingly. ʹYou really did not have to bring me this.ʹ

ʹBefore they fell into oblivion, I had to hand them over to you.ʹ

ʹAre you here just to verify if I am already packing my belongings and deserting?ʹ D'Artagnan made a sweeping arm movement that completely enclosed the room. ʹYou will not find any travel bundle. I will be on duty on time tomorrow. Adieu until then!ʹ

Rochefort deposited the letters on the clothes chest at the end of the bed and ignored the ejection. ʹI have no doubt about that. I find you here buried in sinister thoughts rather than in the nearest tavern. According to that you want to stay sober for tomorrow.ʹ

ʹRight! I just want to make the best impression on my new superiors and comrades. They will greatly appreciate me for facing them with a clear mind, without waver or babble.ʹ

ʹNot to mention that you are not going to smell of cheap alcohol,ʹ Rochefort added with such a serious nod that it was impossible to tell whether he had not at least considered the possibility.

ʹI can still afford the expensive wine, Monsieur! Hell, I could buy the whole Louvre! I accepted Richelieu's offer out of philanthropy and a sense of duty.ʹ

Rochefort waved off. ʹExpect no objection by me, at this late hour it is already too foggy in town for a duel.ʹ

ʹEven the weather is against me.ʹ D'Artagnan sighed. Instead of arguing further, he asked dejectedly, ʹDid you know I would be degraded?ʹ

ʹNoʹ, replied the stable master honestly and d'Artagnan believed him. They were friends despite everything, whom else should he have trusted more? Rochefort was obviously not only here for the documents, but also to offer help and advice in a bleak situation. ʹLike I said, it is a clever move. You can circulate freely in the palace between patrols and weapons exercises.ʹ

ʹI might as well do that as an officer and without having to account to the other guardsmen.ʹ

ʹDo not deceive yourself. You are going to have less obligations but more time and nobody will ask why you will be on guard duty in seemingly trivial places. That is what the benefit is all about.ʹ