The man had ridden, almost none stop, to get back to Paris as quickly as he could. And though exhausted from his travels, he had made his way straight to see the cardinal.

He had been the only one to survive the clash with the Musketeers, watching from the trees as the men that had been sent with him to meet the Spaniard, fought against the five king's men. He shocked to see that it had been the youngest of them, who had been the one to take out the supposedly highly skilled assassin. The messenger leaving the scene as fast as his legs would carry him, as the woods around him had begun to burn; aware that the cardinal would need to know what had happened.

"His eminence will see you now.........." The nervous man pulling his hat from his head, wringing it between his hands, as he nodded and trailed after the servant who had gestured for him to follow; gulping at the large lump that had formed in his throat, as he entered the large, elaborately decorated room. A huge chandelier hanging, like the sword of Damocles, over his head.

"Well...........?" The cardinal enquired, not even bothering to look up from the papers on his desk. The messenger feeling his body begin to tremble, in the presence of the black clad, raven like man.

"Is Señor Sánchez with you..........?" The elder man continued. Finally looking up when the messenger didn't answer.

"I.........I am afraid not, your grace........." The stout messenger finally managed reply, stumbling back a few paces as the cardinal rose from his chair and slowly moved around his desk.

"And why is that.........?"

"It.........it was the Musketeers........." The cardinal's hands clenching into tight fists at the mention of the king's men.

"What about the Musketeer's...........?"

"Well......you see, we......we made our way to the tavern as you ordered, ready to escort your man to Paris. But when we arrived, we saw men pushing the bound Spaniard onto a horse before they all rode off. We followed after them, at a distance, of course, so we were not seen. And when they stopped for the night, the others......they ambushed them. But........."

"But...........?" The king's chief advisor interrupted, as he took a step closer.

"But........despite being outnumbered, the Musketeers........the Musketeers managed to win and escape the fire that had taken over the woods we were in, during the fight. I barely managed to get away so that I could come and inform you of what had happened.........." The messenger explained. His heart beating frantically as the man of God looked down at him.

"And Señor Sánchez.........?"

"D.......dead, your eminence. Killed by one of the Musketeers........."

"And the name of the Musketeer.........?"

"It.......it was the young one. The boy called Fontin........." The cardinal's jaw clenching at the sound of the young man's name. It not bad enough that the boy had refused to be drawn into his web; but now he was killing his assassins and ruining his plans. The son of Remy proving to be quite the thorn in his side.

"And have you told anyone else of this......of your mission........? Of the Spaniard........?"

"No.....no, of course not, your grace. I would never tell anyone.....never betray you........"

"That is good, Moreau.........but just to make sure........." The poor messenger knowing nothing of the dagger in the cardinal's hand, until it was deep in his gut. Moreau letting out a short gasp, his eyes wide as he looked at the man in front of him, before dropping, lifeless, to the floor.

"Anouilh......!" The cardinal called out, as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean the blood from his hand and blade.

"Your grace..........?" The manservant replied, as he pushed his way through the doors and stepped into the room.

"Dispose of this will you.........?" The man simply nodding, before making his way over to the felled messenger. Dragging the body out of the room, then closing the door behind him. Richelieu growling under his breath as he heard an amused chuckle come from the shadows.

"My, my, that boy really is proving to be quite the problem, isn't he......so much like his father, it would appear......." Rochefort said, as he made his way into the light. The cardinal not giving him a second look, as he made his way back his large desk and took his seat.

"Now, if you had let me deal with this in the first place.........."

"You do as I order, Rochefort, not the other way around. Do not forget that......"

"Of course, your eminence........." The Comte's voice hinting at sarcasm, as he bowed deeply before making his way to the front of the cardinal's desk.

"There are many reasons why I did not send you; none of which you need concern yourself with. But the Spaniard's mission is the least of my concerns at the moment; I will deal with the issue myself, another time. For now........for now I have something else I need you to do for me, Rochefort........" The King's First Minister continued; sitting back in his chair and letting out a sigh.

"And that is...........?"

"You are to use whatever means at your disposal to get Gabriel Fontin to agree to join us............"

"And if I cannot............?" Rochefort countered, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Then it is simple, Rochefort.........you kill him............"