The season is not flawless. The episodic “case of the week” structure can feel clunky (Episode 5, “The Homecoming,” drags). The fight choreography, while brutal and balletic, occasionally relies too heavily on the “Corkscrew Parry” (a move where a hero spins to block three opponents at once—thrilling the first time, a gimmick the sixth). Furthermore, the show’s insistence on modern social commentary (slavery, religious persecution, PTSD) is noble but sometimes anachronistic; characters speak like 21st-century therapists rather than 17th-century soldiers.

But the true innovation of Season One is its structure. The show wisely jettisons the novel’s origin story. Our four heroes—Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and the rookie d’Artagnan—are already a unit. We meet them as a scarred, bickering family. This allows the season to do something remarkable: it makes them vulnerable not just to swords, but to themselves.

When the four stand together on the battlements at the end of Episode 10, battered, betrayed, but unbowed, they aren’t just heroes. They are a family. And in an age of gritty anti-heroes and grimdark fantasy, watching four men try so hard to be good—and frequently fail—is the most thrilling adventure of all.

Then there is Milady de Winter. Maimie McCoy steals the show by refusing to be a victim. This Milady is not a femme fatale seduced into wickedness; she is a survivor who weaponized her trauma. Her chemistry with Burke is electric because it feels real—two people who loved each other and now hate each other with equal, exhausting passion.