Porthos

After the successful capture of La Rochelle, the end of October turned out to be cold and rainy. Paris was drowning in dampness, and for the musketeers, there was nothing more desirable than a warm pub, noisy conversations, and good beer. The Old Dovecote greeted them with the familiar hum of voices, the smell of roast meat and the heavy aroma of hops. Porthos, as always, felt like the master of the house. He laughed louder than the others, clapped his friends on the shoulders, and happily told another story, embellished as much as his imagination allowed. Athos listened with half an ear, Aramis smiled absently, and d'Artagnan argued with the innkeeper about the taste of the wine.