Yes, a new chapter, and hopefully a more interesting one

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Chapter 2

Now, a fact of importance so prick up your ears…

The cardinal’s guards and the king’s musketeers,

Have squabbled and bickered and brawled for years…

Dueling and fights! Are regular sights! In Paris… (Planchet, Three Musketeers Musical)

When Red made it to Indigo Plateau, he sold off Pikachu to get spending money. The poor traveler really had no other choice. Those damned medical expenses at the last inn had drained his cash supply quite badly.

Now that he was ready, he gave his sword one good cleaning and then went towards the grand estate where Monsieur Lugia lived, as several passerbies helpfully pointed him the way there. There, he found the area clustered with musketeers, most dressed in the regulation uniform but a few in other things.

There was a broad-shouldered one in a sky-blue doublet and a cloak, coughing intermittently. Red admired the lovely golden belt he was wearing. It stretched from his shoulder to his waist, a lavish spangling of intricate embroidery with winks here and there from the opals embedded within.

“So, Brock.” One of the others nudged him. “Tell me. How is it with seven children, your father has allowed you this extravagance?”

The one with the golden shoulder belt, now named Brock, laughed. “Well, you know that as eldest, I gain the inheritance, and what can I say? It’s a lovely way to spend it, don’t you think?”

“Why Brock, surely you don’t think we still fall for that? With the way you spend it, your inheritance turned to ashes long ago!”

“Was this perhaps from the veiled woman I saw you with last Friday?”

Brock affected a false modesty, but the other men just laughed and pounded him on the back.

Leaving the courtyard, Red passed into the landing, where he espied a young man in a glaring shade of orange chatting with others.

“So, Will, tell us about the Earth affair…”

“There’s nothing to tell…”

“Come now, we know you’re on good terms with all those ladies, and no one doubts your discretion!”

“I should hope not. I’m planning to go into the priesthood, you know.”

“Say that in another time,” One laughed, “And when you’re not glowing like that. You got lucky this weekend, didn’t you?”

The conversation had turned to that of women, and as he passed into the antechamber, the musketeers waiting for their appointments were soundly cursing Cardinal Oak’s new financial policy!
Red shivered. Were they all mad? Such talk could send one into prison! He, however, told his name to the attendant guarding the door of Monsieur Lugia’s study, and the man nodded. Within about ten minutes, he was admitted.

Monsieur Lugia was perhaps in his early fifties, with smooth white hair and sharp features. His dark blue eyes bespoke unfathomable depths of wisdom, and Red felt a bit unnerved by the gaze as he finished his tale.

“Unfortunate, that you have lost the letter addressed to me.” Lugia finally said, hiding a smile. This fiery young man reminded himself of his younger days, and he nodded. Yes he recognized the surname of his old friend Honou, and would try to do his best for the child.

“But one cannot be immediately accepted into the Musketeers. We are an elite corps, you know.” Lugia coughed. “There is a minimum of two year’s apprenticeship. I can get you one with Monsieur Kyogre, my brother-in-law.”

“Yes please.” Red said.

Lugia quickly wrote a few lines on a letter. Red thanked him, but before Lugia could say more, a musketeer rushed in. his clothes were slightly wrinkled, but in excellent condition and of superb cut. His feathered hat was askew on his head, and he had a waterfall of red curls down his back.

He was dressed in the typical uniform – a scarlet over-flap embroidered with a golden fleur-de-lis upon the chest, over a pristine white shirt, cuffs of lace falling about his wrists and collar. Legs encased in smooth black velvet, and ending with highly polished leather boots. A wide-brimmed hat obscured his face, the fluffy feathers falling every which way.

Lugia coughed.

“You sent for me, sir?”

“Yes, Lance. I’m glad you were punctual.” Lugia raised his voice. “Will! Brock! I want you in here!”

There was the sound of running footsteps, and the two musketeers Red had recognized earlier came in quickly, hearing their commander call.

Lugia began to talk in an aggrieved tone, ignoring the fact that Red was still in the room. “Gentlemen, do you know what I heard from the King in Court this morning?”

“No, sir.” All three chorused.

“He told me that last night, three of the Cardinal’s guards were required to arrest five of my musketeers! Arrest! Apparently it was some brawl in a tavern… no, don’t deny it! You three were there, and you were recognized!”

Red flushed, aware that he shouldn’t be listening in on this, but afraid to sneak out and catch notice, so he stayed silent.

“Arrested, I tell you! Well, that’s final! I’ll resign my commission and beg the Cardinal to let me become one of his guards. Perhaps then I’ll see some decent action.”

Irritated and apologetic expressions flickered across the faces of all three, before Brock spoke. “Sir, it wasn’t our fault. The guards knocked out the other two before they attacked.”

“And they broke Lance’s arm before he could react, sir. With a bench.” Will added. “That was fighting dirty. There was no honor in it.”

Lugia’s eyes shot to the musketeer in red. “Lance, you did not inform me that you were injured.” His voice had become visibly colder. Red suppressed a shiver.

“I apologize, sir. I did not think it was of import.”

“I see.” Lugia’s voice lost no chill, but he turned his attention to the others. “And then? What happened then?”

“Well,” Will said helpfully, “They knocked Brock out, all three of them ganged up on him, and then I had to defend myself until the police came. Then, I was rudely informed that since we had started the bawl, I would be spending half an hour in the stocks. That was most irritating, sir.”

“Very well.” Lugia massaged his temples. “You three are dismissed.”

The men nodded and all exited with polite bows. However, on the landing, Lance’s eyes widened and he crumpled to the ground.

“Lance!”

“Lord, no!” Lugia cried, rushing over to the fallen man. “Someone send for a doctor quickly!”

Luckily, there was one in the house, and so the man took one look at the fallen musketeer and shooed everyone else away, after enlisting two others to help carry the man to one of the bedrooms.

Lugia watched them go with a pained expression.

Red coughed softly, and snapped the Captain’s expression back to him.

Lugia gave a rueful smile. “I am sorry you had to hear that. A Captain is like a father, often, and well, sometimes one must discipline children.”

Red had nothing to say to that, sensing that the conversation was over. He nodded hastily and exited the house, planning on finding somewhere to lodge. He paused in the landing, listening to Brock spin a yarn about one of his previous mistresses, but whether it was truth or fiction, it was certainly interesting… and quite enlightening!

He said nothing and was enthralled in a tale about a lady named Aya when all of a sudden; he spotted, walking through the streets below, the man in the green doublet! The one who had wounded him in that little town!

Red hurriedly raced out the door after the man.

End Chapter

Completed 3/22/06

Whee! No slash yet, but it will come eventually. There’s het too, for het lovers