This is the sequel to my story "The Road (Has Got No End)", and it is dedicated to Captain Treville of the King's Musketeers.

Jean-Armand du Peyrer, the future Comte de Troisville, was only a young boy when he first met Monsieur Arzhur.* Though he protested the idea profusely, the man was to be his teacher, keeping him inside and away from the sun and animals, to learn arithmetic and languages "like every good noble boy," his father said. At first glance, Jean-Armand decided to dislike Monsieur Arzhur, for his pale skin and skinny frame spoke of hours inside. At second glance, Jean-Armand decided to give him a chance, if only for the laughter lines around his blue eyes and his mischief-filled unruly black hair. But when he spoke, Jean-Armand decided he must like Monsieur Arzhur, for his voice was filled of mystic wonder as he told tales of knights and dragons and warlocks in a kingdom lost to the ages.

By the third day, Monsieur Arzhur had convinced Jean-Armand's father to let them hold classes in the yard. By the fourth, the future Comte had extracted a promise from his teacher to have a class devoted entirely to eyebrow raising, and by the end of the week, Jean-Armand happily declared that Monsieur Arzhur was his new best friend, to which the man smiled sadly and ruffled his hair.

It took a month for Jean-Armand to realize Monsieur Arzhur could draw, and even so, he only discovered the secret after stumbling upon the man under a large oak tree next to the stables. However, it took little prompting for various portraits to be pulled out of a portfolio and shared. The next time the teacher told stories, Jean-Armand had faces to match to the names - King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, the Knights of the Round Table: Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan; the court physician Gaius, the Great Dragon Kilgharrah, the witch Morgana and the druid Sir Mordred. The only one Monsier Arzhur never drew was the warlock Merlin, and after a sad frown the first time Jean-Armand broached the subject, he never asked again.

Four years passed in this way - Monsieur Arzhur teaching Jean-Armand everything he possibly might need in life, though the future Comte argued the only three things he really needed were how to raise only one eyebrow in a variety of fashions, the stories of Camelot, and the faces to match the names. The current Comte disagreed, and so Monsier Arzhur was fired and a new teacher hired. Though Jean-Armand protested this even more profusely than he had the original hiring, and with much more grace and talent, he failed yet again.

Jean-Armand du Peyrer, the future Comte de Troisville, never saw Monsieur Arzhur again. He did, however, keep a copy of the portraits, to keep his first teacher and his stories close to him forever. And so, when investigating a potential King's Musketeer, he was astonished to find he recognized René d'Aramitz as Lancelot of Camelot, Knight of the Round Table.

"Aramis?" He questioned, voice gruff at the reminder of his old friend, and wondering if he was seeing things.

"Who's asking?" the man grunted. But no - Aramis' chin seemed thinner under the goatee than Lancelot's, hair longer, cheekbones sharper, countenance harder, but it was Lancelot.

"Tréville. Captain Tréville of the King's Musketeers. I heard you're the best of the best when it comes to sharpshooting." But how? How could Lancelot possibly be alive again?

Aramis nodded, "Around here, yes. I'm good with a sword as well."

Now, Tréville's eyebrow rose of its own accord, while his eyes studied the stricken, pain-filled remembrance in the other's eyes. "Modest, too." The man before him was somehow both Aramis and Lancelot, had somehow known Monsieur Arzhur, for who else raised eyebrows like his old teacher did?

"What are you here for, Captain?" Tréville shook himself from his thoughts and memories and smiled.

"How would you like to be a musketeer?"

Captain Tréville obeyed orders from his king and sent musketeers to die.

Jean-Armand died a little inside.

Captain Tréville watched over his musketeers like a good captain should, and noted with interest as the Inseparables formed.

Jean-Armand watched with barely-hidden glee as Aramis built around him the new Round Table.

Captain Tréville wondered at Aramis' mentally improved state.

Jean-Armand knew that Lancelot had spotted mischief-filled unruly black hair and blue eyes, and wondered how said hair was not yet gray.

Captain Tréville sent Athos, Porthos, d'Artagnan, and Aramis on a routine mission - escorting a family of visiting nobles distantly related to the king back to their home - and waited for them to return.

Jean-Armand was not prepared for when they did.

Athos, Porthos, d'Artagnan, and Aramis returned to the garrison safely, but with a familiar face seated before Aramis on his horse. "Monsieur Arzhur?" Jean-Armand called out in disbelief. How… this wasn't possible. His old teacher could not ride into the musketeer garrison, not looking a day older than when he left Troisville. If he didn't know better, Tréville would say he himself was older than Monsieur Arzhur!

Aramis looked at the former teacher, then at his captain, and back again in surprise, obviously at a loss. "Who?" he eventually said, and Captain Tréville sighed.

"All five of you, my office, now," he ordered, and turned around without checking to see if they were obeying.

A few minutes later, Tréville looked up from his paperwork to find the five men standing awkwardly before him.

There was a pause, and then - "Jean-Armand," his old teacher greeted, smiling hesitantly. "It's good to see you again."

Tréville smiled back. "You too, Monsieur Arzhur. Or should I call you Merlin?"

Merlin gaped. "What - how - I don't understand."

"You and me both," Aramis muttered.

Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan stood together in the corner, quietly observing and wondering at the events of the day.

"It was impossible to miss the resemblance between Aramis and your portrait of Lancelot," Tréville explained. "And you never did draw me a picture of Merlin. I'm not claiming to understand how you stand before still as young as you once were, or how Lancelot became Aramis, but it wasn't hard to figure out they were one and the same, or that you were Merlin."

Monsieur Arzhur nodded slowly, then explained, "I'm an immortal warlock. Lancelot was resurrected." Glancing at Aramis, he added, "Lancelot, I was Jean-Armand's tutor when he was just a boy. I may have filled his head with tales of Camelot."

"And eyebrows," Aramis grumbled. Tréville's and Merlin's eyebrows both rose in spectacular symmetry, and he explained, "From the moment I met Captain Tréville, I've wondered if Gaius taught him how to speak with his eyebrows. Now it turns out that Gaius taught you, and you taught Captain Tréville." The eyebrows settled as Merlin and Jean-Armand nodded in understanding, and Aramis groaned. "I'm going to go take a nap away from the two Gaiuses." And with that, he left, three laughing musketeers following him.

Merlin, however, hesitated - he'd promised himself not to leave Lancelot's side for hours, if not days, and he knew Lancelot had made the same promise. However, he could see questions in Jean-Armand's eyes, and if the man was anything like the boy he'd once been, Merlin knew the captain wouldn't sleep until he had answers. Jean-Armand, however, shook his head at Monsieur Arzhur. His questions could wait until morning; if the decades since he'd seen his tutor seemed long to him, he knew the centuries were even worse for Monsieur Arzhur and Aramis. And as he saw the smile light up the other man's face as he quickly turned to follow his musketeers out the door, Captain Tréville of the King's Musketeers, future Minister of War for France, knew he had made the right choice.

*Arzhur is the form of "Arthur" used in French speaking countries.