Double Trouble

Chapter Two: The Reprimand

Athos stood at attention in front of Captain Tréville's desk, waiting for his superior's reprimand. The headache that had disappeared with breakfast was quickly returning in full force, but he secretly endured it.

Finally, Tréville turned around to look at the musketeer in front of him. He took notice of the pale complexion, sweaty sheen of Athos's face, and the disheveled uniform. The captain shook his head in disappointment.

"Tomorrow morning, you were to lead group one escorting the king's double to Château de Blois," said the captain, his tone serious. "Now, judging by your appearance, I am seriously considering removing you from this mission."

The words spoken by his captain hit Athos hard, stunning him. He forced himself to remain on his feet as he blinked back the darkness threatening the edges of his vision. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, determined to not lose his breakfast in front of the captain.

The captain noticed his musketeer grow pale at the harsh words. The slight wobble to the man's stance may have gone unnoticed to anyone else, but it didn't get past Tréville. "Sit down, before you fall down."

Unsure of how much longer he could have remained upright, Athos gratefully took a seat.

"What am I to do with you?" the captain worried. "I have long tolerated your indulgence in wine because, until now, you have never allowed it to interfere with the performance of your duty. I have always been able to count on you to do your job as expected. Any other man in your position would have been fired long ago from the Musketeers." The captain watched as Athos winced at his candor.

"As you well know, for this mission I need eight of my best Musketeers. Unfortunately, at this point I do not have the time to replace you on such short notice."

Athos remained quiet, his face void of emotion.

"You are confined to the garrison until morning; you are not allowed to leave this post for any reason." Captain Tréville sat on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. He watched his lieutenant for a moment before continuing, "and you are not allowed any alcohol, period. I want you sober in the morning."

The captain stood, moving directly in front of Athos's line of vision. "I expect all of my Musketeers to be mentally sharp and physically prepared for duty at all times—you are no exception.

Athos nodded.

"I want you cleaned up," the captain looked over his lieutenant's appearance and frowned. "I will summon the barber to the garrison, seeing that you need a haircut and trim. I will send Aramis to fetch your clean clothes and uniform, and more medicine for that headache."

Athos lifted his eyebrows in surprise. The captain knows me all too well, he thought.

"I will not have my Musketeers escorting the king looking like a vagabond or a drunkard. You will appear as the professional soldier I know you are-no exceptions. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Athos answered.

"Dismissed." The captain stood to move back to his seat behind the desk. "Oh, send Aramis in next please," he said, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.

Athos rose from his seat with a nod, making for a quick retreat. He shut the door, letting out a long sigh of relief.

Thank God that's over, he thought. "Damn, I need a drink!" he grumbled. Athos descended the stairs and set out looking for Aramis. He could feel everyone watching him but he averted his eyes, keeping his head low.

Three anxious Musketeers jumped to their feet at seeing Athos coming toward them.

"What happened up there?" d'Artagnan was first to ask.