aris, France, 17th century. The King's Musketeers are the most elite force in law enforcement and protection of the crown from any threats that may seek to destroy it. Under the leadership of King Louis XIII, Queen Anne of Austria and Captain Treville, the band of brothers has prospered and gained footing in key areas of France's court and nobility. However, despite the intentions of the Musketeers and all who support them and their good works throughout the kingdom, a new and brutal plot has been detected that could override the dangers of anything they have ever experienced before, and put not only the integrity on the brotherhood at risk but the lives of the king and queen as well. The fate of France and all her citizens rests in the hands of four Musketeers, four men who are trained in the arts of combat and national security. Can Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan band together as they always have in a treasonous quest that could claim the lives of them all? In a flurry of bullets and whirring wind, Athos knew he had little time. He ducked behind a crumbling wall and was blessed long enough to reload his pistol and give himself a quick once-over, assessing for any major wounds that needed immediate medical attention and feel for risks that would throw him out of the fight. He was sure that the enemy would like nothing more. After a ruthless ambush by the mystery assailants, all four Musketeers sent forth on the job and been woken rather rudely and thrust into the fields of battle. If one of the greatest soldiers in the ranks of the king's men had fallen to injury it would make the little late-night excursion worth it for the unknown attackers, even if they lost. Athos gave a quick glance up to the glowing moon and thought that such a moment would be the perfect time for a prayer, but since he was neither the type for such foolishness or on proper terms with God, he thought his time was better served to self-examination and a quick assessment of the field in the fight. The enemy in question had been one that the group of men had been hunting for the past several days, leaving Paris in a rush on the king's orders and plunged into the hellhole that made up the city of Toulouse. So little had been known about the force which they were chasing after, though after a few nights of speaking with locals and avoiding what remained of the plague, Athos was confident that he had found his source. Distracted, Athos gave a sigh and peered over the edge of the broken brick, firing a shot and hitting an attacker square in the chest before ducking behind the protection once more. She has to be here, he thought bitterly. She must be. "Athos!" came a call from across the square. The soldier lifted his head and nodded to D'Artagnan in acknowledgment, gripping his weapon and making a mad dash for the building at his left. Under heavy gunfire, Athos leapt to safety and narrowly avoided a bullet to the chest that would not only compromise his position as a soldier, but endanger his life as well. D'Artagnan patted him on the back before throwing the lighted charge into the fray of enemies, putting his hands over his ears as Athos did the same. Three, two, one. A massive blast shook the ground beneath him, though he had little time to react or recoil. He was on his feet moments later, catching the loaded pistol that was tossed to him by Porthos and rushing back into the battle, gun raised. "Stop, don't shoot!" The voice of the sole remaining assailant rang out through the smoke and the shouts that were a direct result of D'Artagnan's charge. What he wasn't expecting, however, was the struggling woman in the arms of the black-cloaked attacker, whimpering with a gun held to her head. "Don't shoot," the man exclaimed, "or the girl dies!"