Hi! Sorry for the wait! Trying to be nice by making you an extra long chapter! Competitions went well - 2nd and 3rd ranking in the two different phases. Well pleased. Good pony! (If anyone wants to see pictures or just randomly stalk me btw, my name is "mojsengojs" on both instagram and twitter!)

And thank you all for the encouragement and feedback, you are making me grinning like an idiot with your reviews and messages. Please don't ever stop, lol!

Okay so in this chapter we are listening in to what people have to say about Athos. Please be aware that there are mentions of sexual abuse (nothing detailed or happening, but it is mentioned). And oh, most villagers call Athos by his other name - "Olivier", because that would be the name they used for him, before he became Athos. So yes, Olivier is Athos. Deal? Yeah? Good. Now stop reading my rambling nonsense and get on with.. Oh well.. More rambling nonsense, I guess… ;)

Chapter 4

Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan set out at first light, getting their horses ready and riding the short way back into the small city. The streets were already filled with people bargaining their breakfast, some swapping eggs for a baguette, a flagon of pressed fruits or a nice ham. People were greeting each other and even though the mood was lively, people were up and talking, Aramis couldn't help but to sense that something was off. He didn't know these people and he didn't know how they usually interacted, but it felt stiff, it felt forced, and he wondered if something was going on. His gut was telling him to beware, and he always trusted his intuition. It had saved both his life and the lives of his friends several times. Right now he made the decision to be on guard, but not dwell too much into it.

He looked over at his friends, and met Porthos' eyes. Porthos could tell just by the look on Aramis that his spider senses were twitching, but also knew that if Aramis didn't tell them anything, it was just best to observe, not call it out. So the two of them gave a mutual nod in understanding, before deciding to find some place to eat. If Aramis' gut were right, they would soon find out what was triggering it without having to look for it. Trouble always came their way without them having to chase it.

They found a small diner that was serving breakfast, and they left their horses outside as they made their way in. Eyes fell upon them instantly as they walked in through the door to take a table, and all three men could feel the eyes stare at their right shoulders. They tried to brush it off to paranoia as they sat down at a table, but it didn't take long before a woman, probably in her mid seventies with long silvery hair into a neat braid, came up to the table.

"Gentlemen, you will have to forgive my intrusion, but you look like Musketeers. Is this so?"

"It is, Madame." Aramis nodded in response, as his hat moved from his head to the table.

"Olivier… Did he make it back?"

The woman was so fast forward with her question that it almost startled the men a bit, but Aramis gathered himself fast, and smiled politely. "Athos is in safe hands."

"Athos." His name was exhaled from her lips, and they could all see relief wash over her, before a small smile made its way to her lips. "I forgot he uses that name now. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Madame." Aramis gave her the brightest of his smiles, and his eyes melted into a proper stare as their eyes met. "Would you join us for breakfast? We would delight in your company."

Never before had a woman turned Aramis' offer for company down, and it was not about to change now. The elderly woman smiled with her cheeks red before she slid down next to Aramis, in the same time as a waitress came by with breads, drinks and spreads. Porthos spread it all out between them, and Aramis served the little woman before settling down with his back towards the wall, preparing questions in his head before throwing them all over this woman at once. He decided that perhaps the best way to start an interrogation of an elderly woman would be to introduce them.

"My name is Aramis, and my friends here are d'Artagnan and Porthos. We are as said Musketeers, and Athos is our leader, and very dear friend. He arrived back to us yesterday morning badly wounded, and we are here trying to understand what could've possibly happened to him. We have not come to draw trouble here, we are merely worried about our… comrade." Aramis introduced them, hoping to get the woman to speak. Normally he would call Athos brother, but knowing they were in Athos' hometown, and knowing about the relationship between Athos and his brother-by-blood, Thomas, he figured it was not the right word to use at this land.

"My name is Madame Simone Sergeant. I was the governess while the boys were young. As my services were not required anymore, Olivier… Athos… bid me to stay as his maid until… Until he… left. He never returned here, not until last year. After that, Olivier has been here frequently, and I know not everyone is happy about his return, but he is like a son to me, and I am very glad that he found a new family. Brothers that he can actually call brothers."

Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan looked up at each other, their eyes and eyebrows speaking a story no one else could hear. Had they really stumbled into Athos' governess and maid? The real woman of the house, who was told every secret from birth to adulthood? A woman who had taken care of Athos as her own young, and he had probably trusted more in than his own mother? This was definitely the right person to talk to.

"Madame." Aramis said quietly as he realized she had stopped talking and wasn't sure of what else to say. "Do you know what happened to Athos? And what has been happening here?"

"I do. But here is not the place to talk loudly of such things. I live down by the marketplace, the smallest house by the end of the walkway. I have some things I need to tend to, but meet me there by midday and I will tell you."

All men gave a bow of their heads, as Simone got to her feet, and was soon out of sight.

"That was easier than I thought." D'Artagnan mumbled.

"Don't be so sure of it." Aramis said in warning. "Finding out who is behind trouble is rarely difficult. Stopping it might prove to be a harder task."

They ate breakfast in silence, not wanting to talk too openly as they had all noticed that they might not be very welcome here. They were turning a lot of heads, people were whispering and pointing, and it was hard to tell who were upset with their arrival, and who seemed to be appreciating it. The lands of La Fére were wide, but this town was not very big. Everyone seemed to know everyone, and whenever strangers walk into a place like that, it's not often a good thing.

.

'At a place where everything stands still
Where fear is mightier than courage
Insecurity will become its own world
And a stranger won't find a home
Because hostility grow out of fear
And it will be guarding its territory.'*

.

As they finished, they decided to hit the streets. They would be talking to Madame Sergeant later on, but figured it wouldn't hurt to dig around a little bit before they met up with her. So deciding to meet at the market place by midday, they split up into different directions as they tried to find people willing to talk to them. They also figured that splitting up into solos might make them seem less intimidating.

Porthos stayed by the little diner, moving over to sit by the little bar instead of the table where they had been eating. The early morning drunks were not always very talkative, but Porthos was certain he could get something out of them. So joining the old men sitting by the bar with cups in their hands, he ordered himself a drink as well. It's never too early to start drinking, Athos taught him that.

He proceeded with caution, sitting down next to the men, ordering his drink, and waited for them to come to him, to say the first words, to start the conversation. And he didn't have to wait long, an outsider sitting down way too close to an established group will always draw eyes and curiosity.

"And who are you then?"

Porthos smiled to himself, what a polite way of starting a conversation. Although, these men were very drunk, and had probably been drinking since the turn of the moon.

"Porthos, of the King's Musketeers." Porthos introduced himself, raising his cup in acknowledgment. The men eyed him from down and up, before nodding their heads in consent. He had a foot in.

"Y'ere 'cause of w'appened to the Comte?" One of the men slurred out.

Porthos nodded. "We are loyal to Athos, and we come 'ere only to find out w'appened to him, and see if we can help."

"A lot 'appened to… Athos was it? His name was Olivier when he lived here." One of the men offered. "Everything happened to him. It was like the Fates put a curse on his life. But we heard he's doing better now, far away from this life."

"He returned though," Another man chimed in. "He rebuilt the estate after it burned. There's always dried and salted food in the cellars for anyone who goes hungry."

"Don't fo'get the wine. There's wine too." The drunkest of the men mumbled as a wide grin spread across his face.

"He didn't deserve all that came his way. Having to deal with Thomas, that damned rat of a boy, losing his parents, then Anne's betrayal. It's too much for any man to withstand. I'm shocked Olivier is still alive. Any other man would've most like succumbed to darkness." The man who had first spoken to Porthos rambled on, the tip of his index finger trailing alongside the edge of the cup. "We never knew what 'came of him, we knew he was alive because Madame Sergeant corresponded with him, and whenever anyone here was in need of any help, he would send necessities. He never did claim any taxes from anyone in the town, but we have paid it anyway during all of these years knowing that Olivier will return and fight for us the day we need it."

"And now we do. And Madame Sergeant sent word. It only took until nightfall before Olivier rode in here on Roger… He still has Roger, which made me happy. I had his dam and sire, I bred both Roger and Thibault." The man at the end of the table talked, and a wide smile of good memories seemed to have returned to his facial expressions, losing the thread he was actually speaking of. The first man took over.

"Isaac is looking for trouble, and he is just a boy still, but he has more followers than we can handle. They had both women and children in way of the whip when Olivier rode in, and he walked to stand in front of them, never a question asked. Isaac laughed, and shot him, before they dragged him out of there. Some of the men brave enough tried to follow – and they were shot dead."

Porthos shuddered, but felt proud to call Athos his brother. A man who returned to his homeland, where everything bad that has ever happened to him still dwells in the ruins, to stand in front of raiders with so much as an ounce of doubts. It almost got him killed, but he certainly showed that he still held a duty as a Comte, and that he would protect his people of anything coming.

The man who had been talking the most raised his cup. "To our gallant Comte de la Fére, a man I would gladly walk blindfolded straight into battle with."

Porthos happily raised his glass and clinked it together with the other man's. He would too, walk blindfolded into battle alongside Athos, because he trusted him with his life. Apparently he wasn't the only one who did.

"Comte Olivier de la Fére brought nothing but shame upon his house and his family's name the day he let that witch into the house."

Aramis frowned as the man in front of him literally spat the words out. He didn't like that way he talked about his friend, but it was not his place, nor the time, to punch sense back into the man. So he let his hands curl into fists, before releasing them down his sides again. Repeatedly. There was nothing he disliked so much as someone talking ill of his friends, but he knew this would not be a good place to slap someone in the face with a musket, so he worked his hardest to remain calm as the man kept rambling.

"Thomas de la Fére was a sweet, young man who never hurt a fly. He was full of life and was constantly surrounded by friends and family. Everyone loved him. He was passionate and admired by all, until his life was stolen away from him, because the Comte was blind to the truth. Blind to the fact that his wife was a coldblooded murderess, a criminal who deceived him to get her way. He allowed it to happen. He allowed his emotions to take the best out of him, and now Thomas' blood is on Olivier's hands. He should've stopped her. He could've stopped her. He chose not to. Now he will forever live, knowing that his brother was killed due to his recklessness."

"I owe Olivier my life."

The woman in the market stand looked down amongst her fruit and vegetables as she spoke. D'Artagnan pretended to eye the fruit as well as he listened intensively. She was merely whispering, not wanting to talk out loud of what had happened, most likely in fear of what might happen if the wrong person overheard the conversation.

"His brother, Thomas, was no nobleman. He was a dog of the streets, filthy and with a sick mind. I was young, I had just reached my teens, when he pulled me down an alley, ripping at my clothes. I was in shock I suppose; I only remember glimpses of what happened. One minute Thomas is pulling at my dress, and the next one I look up to see Olivier pressing a sword against Thomas' throat, whispering something to him that I could not hear. Then he released him, and Thomas left us. Olivier helped me up and walked me home to my mother and father, talking to them for a long time about reimbursing them in any way. I'm not sure how they settled it, but my father told me it was not the first time Olivier paid someone for their silence about his brother."

The young woman took a deep breath as she paused her story. D'Artagnan was looking up at her, meeting her eyes and seeing the hurt hiding in them.

"I never told anyone. But part of me always wondered what would've happened if all those people who loved Thomas could've seen what kind of monster he was. I do believe Olivier did want to sentence him for his crimes, but could not find it in himself to sentence his own brother to death. Especially when most people here always favoured Thomas over Olivier. Thomas was happy, outgoing, fun. He was always the centre of the party, loved the attention and was very handsome. He would flirt with everything that crossed his path and most girls were swooning over him. He was loud and outrageous, and would make people laugh. Olivier on the other hand was calm, very quiet and didn't leave the estate more than necessary. He did what was bid but didn't go out of his way to please anyone. Most people found him very uninteresting – even tedious. But that day in that alley, I saw their real personas. I saw the monster in Thomas, as his eyes turned black of evil, his hands becoming claws and the mock laughter… I will never forget that sound. And then Olivier came. And he was not grey anymore, he was gallant and noble, exquisite and proud. He was my saviour and I have been loyal to him ever since."

D'Artagnan couldn't help but to smile as she finished telling him what she thought of Athos. It warmed his heart as she talked so highly of a man he was so much in awe of himself.

At midday, they found each other, and also found the way to Madame Sergeant's little house. She let them all in, and gave them all a cup of tea along with some broth, complete with bread and cheese. She joined them at the table and they could all tell that she prepared herself to tell a long story.

"For you to understand what is going on, I need to start way back into this story. Because I assume Olivier… Athos, never spoke of Isaac?"

All men looked between the others, but all of them ended up shaking their heads. The name didn't ring a bell.

"Isaac is cousin to Athos and Thomas. He grew up at the manor along the two of them, and they were very much like three brothers. It was just that none of them really acted like brothers. Athos was the oldest, and he always had high demands on his shoulders. He was told daily, often by myself, how to act, what to say, what to wear and how to present himself. We would remind him every time he sidestepped, already from a very early age. He never had time to be a child, he grew up straight away, and for a while it seemed like he would be pleased as a nobleman. But I knew this boy, I was the one he came to with all his secret thoughts, and I soon found out that he found no joy in taking after his father."

Madame Sergeant paused for a second, her elbows placed on the table and her head sighing into her hands as she appeared to be far off into the world of memories.

"I sent him traveling. His uncle travelled a lot with him, and so did his father. They travelled to England, Spain, Italy and Germany. They discovered unexplored lands and learned about new things. Every time Athos returned home from a trip, he was different. He would laugh, smile, reminisce and he would be so happy as he told me every detail there was. But then it would be a day or two before he would be brought back down into his duties, and he would once again close himself into his shell. His shell where he would do everything asked of him, and he would do it with pride to the name, but he wasn't happy."

"Thomas, on the other hand, didn't have the same duties to fulfil as his brother. He had, of course, some duties to lean on, but he didn't care about it. He'd rather play with his horse, or with swords, or his friends around the town. He was rarely home, and when he was he would be rude and disobey both their parents and me. He could be ruthless, but the townspeople never saw that. To them, he was the perfect boy, always so bright and gleeful. What happened behind closed doors would be something the family never spoke of."

"Isaac was somewhere in between. He followed Thomas around a lot, but Thomas soon grew out of his hands, he wasn't able to control him, and I do believe he even feared the mind of Thomas. And by every right, he should've feared it, because it was not right. Isaac soon realized he needed to back away from Thomas, fearing what he might be dragged into. So he sought out Athos' company instead, and the two of them actually became very good friends. They did a lot of things together, and seemed to have a lot of fun in each others' company. I guess it was safe to say Athos never had a friend before Isaac, and therefore Athos gave him his trust and heart."

"Then the raid on the village happened, the raid where their parents were both killed, along with Isaac's parents. Athos was on the battlefield, and we all thought Isaac would be there too, but it later came up that Isaac had been hiding in fear in the stables. He had never dared to walk out and fight the raiders, hearing the swords and screams he had stayed hidden. He watched though, he told me later that he watched through a hole in the wall but he never left the stable. Not even when Thibault, Athos' big horse was killed, and fell down among the rocks, snapping Athos' leg at several places and pinning him underneath. Athos was mere feet away from the stables, and Isaac could've gone out and helped him to safety. Isaac could've gone out and saved their parents, but he didn't. He was too scared, and therefore both boys watched their parents die without being able to prevent it."

"We all feared for a long time that Athos would not recover. His leg was badly injured, and he took ill from it. He was out for days, and Isaac sat with him now and again. He confessed to Athos that he had been a coward, and Athos had gone through the roof in anger. He called him by such a vibrant string words that would've made everyone turn in their graves before he sent Isaac on his way, deporting him, so angry with him that he promised to have him hanged were he ever to return to the lands of La Fére."

Madame Sergeant stopped, and it seemed like she had run out of words. Instead she was just sitting there, staring down into her cup. Aramis offered his charm as he reached forward and took her hand, squeezing it.

"I take it Isaac didn't take that too well?"

"It appears not. At the time he left without a word, but he is back, and he has been back for years. He never did much of fuzz though, but he believes that Athos is neglecting his duties as Comte, and Thomas is dead, he should be the Comte. The land and riches should belong to him, not Athos, but not many people in this town would give Isaac a hand, knowing he's a coward, who let his parents die in front of his eyes. So over the years, Isaac has built up hatred, and he has been planning on how to take over, a course of action I am not familiar with. All I know is that he disappeared, and a few days ago he returned with more men that I ever thought he would find willing to follow him. I sent word for Athos immediately, and he came here in the nick of time. He stood up for those Isaac was aiming a gun at, but Isaac shot Athos instead, and then they pulled him away from us. Athos was at my door in the small hours of the night and I helped him best I could – but I am no physician. I told him to seek the physician in town, at least before the ride, but he was very eager to get back to Paris. He mumbled that he had to get back before sun-up, and everything would be all right as he got there. He said he would get reinforcements and return."

It was three tired men who left Madame Sergeant's house many hours later. She had talked them through everything in detail, not leaving anything out, and the Musketeers had asked her a lot of questions. They were getting a little bit wiser. Isaac wanted to be Comte, but Athos was. So Athos had to either go, or be dishonoured. Isaac already found him to be dishonoured due to the death of Thomas, and about half of the town seemed to be agreeing, while the other half still stood on Athos' side. Something had to happen to make a change in this, the big question was just, what was about to happen?

Isaac was not done yet, he probably knew by now that Athos made it back safely to Paris and was tended to, and he would not give up until he held the lands of La Fére in his hands. But Athos had backup, and his backup would never let their friend lose his rights to the land. Athos might not like being a Comte, he might not enjoy having duties to fulfil, but he would never – ever – just hand it over. It was his duty to take care of his heritage and he would protect it with everything he could.

And they would help him.

As the trio finally arrived back at the manor, darkness was already falling above them. They all felt ready to uncork a bottle of wine and pull up the deck of cards, when they saw a piece of paper attached to the door. All of them frowned at it, before d'Artagnan rode up towards the door, pulling it down and reading it out loud.

"One for all, and all for one. "

"I know I have heard that somewhere before." Aramis mused, sitting back into the saddle as if he was trying to figure out where he had heard it.

"Funny." Porthos muttered as d'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

"What do you think it means?"

Porthos sat quiet at d'Artagnan's question, as it was Aramis who answered it. "I guess what someone is trying to tell us is that, they will try everything in their power to bring Athos down… and we might be in the line of fire."

* Roughly translated lyrics from a song called "The Stranger" written, and performed in Swedish by singer Nordman. Check him out. He is epic.