Free Creative Writing Examples – Read “For Honor” Book #9

. . . “I am aware of the dangers,” she answered solemnly. Her temper quickly fled, though her stubbornness remained unrelenting. “Besides, that’s irrelevant. I’m already involved. You said so yourself. And…they won’t recognize me if I go as Christophe.” Seeing from her expression that Thomas wasn’t going to let her get away with it, he defiantly put forth her best argument. “Do I need to remind you that only I know where the papers are now? If you don’t give me your permission, I’ll go anyway and you won’t have those papers, so I implore you to tell me everything I need.” to know.”

Thomas shook his head gravely. “Laurel, you have no idea what you’re asking of me. YesI know you will do what you say. Very well, my daughtercontact Compton in Marseilles and tell him ‘the three crowns.’ He will give you further instructions. In the meantime, I will still be heading to Luz and Brussels. I hope you will send me a letter addressed to the estate of the merchant Jacques Devré in Brussels. Also, I’ll try to meet you somewhere near Boussac, if possible. Understood?”

Laurel nodded and didn’t press her father any further. They both knew better than anyone to work the issue; there was no time, and it would serve no purpose.

Two stubborn souls weren’t likely to change their ways anytime soon; Had there ever been such a case of like father like daughter before? And they had more pressing matters, like figuring out exactly how they could orchestrate the passing of messages between the two of them so that Thomas could convey important information to his daughter that was not yet in her possession, and she to him. I pray to God that her old nemesis doesn’t find out about her game or let Thomas get away this time.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The acrid smell of well-grilled food mixed with alcohol and tobacco swirled in the air. Lights flickered and waitresses wandered from table to table, handing out beer and food. Sometimes more than that.

As he was known to do, Porthos was giving d’Artagnan another lesson in courting women while Aramis looked on with what some might interpret as mild amusement. Still, he could hardly ever be sure what the man who wanted to be a priest really thought. Not that the young man needed much instruction where Aramis was concerned. With that beautiful face and body of his and those eyes, not to mention his seductive recklessness, he had already captured a lot of female attention. It seemed to matter little that he was more brash than charming, more daring than subtle. Oh well, don’t worry; D’Artagnan knew how to take care of himself most of the time. Besides, the boy was already basically outclassed by Constance Bonacieux, so the boy was in no danger of falling in love with an unsuitable woman.

No, d’Artagnan could handle himself quite well. It was Athos Aramis who was worried. The man had been drinking heavily. True, he was very serious about his drinking, but he drank more than usual, and the man was like hell under his influence. In that condition he might as well strangle or shoot or break the neck of anyone who wasn’t a good friend and accidentally trigger his wrath. Not to mention that he ended up saying things that he would later regret.

Still, Aramis could not blame Athos much. Very unlikely, Aramis admitted to himself, that he would be better off if he met a wife he believed to be long dead and then discovered he was an agent of one’s own worst enemy. It couldn’t be easy watching her jump to her death either. Very hard. And very hard was surely an understatement.

Of course, Aramis was not married, never had been, so he could not understand the depth of the grievance that Athos must feel. Aramis gently shook the arm of a servant girl and excused herself from the table. Wenching could wait another night. There were many beautiful and willing women for him to choose from. Most of the time they threw themselves at him. Methodically, he went to the far corner of the darkened room and stopped the servitor.

The would-be priest shook his head firmly. “No more drinks for him. I’ll take care of him. Just make sure everyone else stays away from him.” The girl backed away and Aramis sat down across from her old friend.

“Ah, Aramis, come and toast with me,” said Athos, filling a glass with a trembling hand. He was already beginning to show signs of intoxication, in short, he didn’t take liquor very well. Not a good indication, as he needed to drink a lot before Athos revealed his drunken state. After a brief pause, the drunken musketeer pushed the full glass toward the raven-haired man, then took another healthy drink from his tankard. He wiped a trickle of beer from his lip with his sleeve, then took another drink.

Aramis’s deep brown eyes flecked with gold looked at the older man. He hated to see the usually fastidious Athos reduced to such a state. It was like watching his older brother drink himself to death all over again. “No, thanksThank you Athos. I’ve had enough to drink.”

“Oh, Yes“I forgot,” said Athos condescendingly, “no more than one glass of beer a day for the would-be priest.” He would not want to offend God by drinking more than in moderation. He could be damned for it.”

‘That’s enough, Athos,’ Aramis said softly but firmly as he took the other man’s hand and prevented him from raising the jug to his lips again. The young man’s eyes were cold and unreadable. “We should go to sleep.”

“Listen, Aramis, you may not want a drink for some bloody, bloody, mistakenly noble or self-righteous reason, but that’s no reason to stop others from enjoying their pleasures as they please. I’ll drink whenever I want. Now let go of my hand, and go get drunk for once or, better yet, go get yourself a new bitch like you always do.”

Aramis struck the table with Athos’s hand, breaking the jar and cracking the table. Athos moved to throw a punch at the other man. However, his reactions were slowed down by the drink and Aramis easily blocked the blow. “Enough“That is enough, Athos,” he said, struggling to control his temper with moderate success. You’ve had too much to drink, and I’m not just saying that because I decide not to drink much. Can’t you see what it does to you, man? She leaned closer to Athos. I don’t like seeing you like this, and I don’t want to see you drink yourself to death. I’ve seen my brother do that before, and I don’t want to lose one of my best friends in the same way.” . . .

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