It took the three musketeers six days to reach Gascony. The road was fairly quiet and the weather fair, allowing them to make quick progress and stay overnight in taverns, most of which saw it as an honour to house the King's Musketeers in their best rooms free of charge. The three men rarely embarked on such comfortable missions; it could almost be seen as a holiday if not for the worry in their minds.
With each day that passed without catching up with D'artagnan, the doubt that they were heading to the right place grew. D'artagnan had a head start, and was an excellent horseman; it was likely that he was simply a day's ride ahead. Yet every innkeeper they had asked on the road did not recognise his description. Either D'artagnan was choosing to not stay in the inns, or he had gone a different way. Both of these options confused Athos; why would D'artagnan choose to spend nights outside when there were plenty of fine establishments with excellent reputations along the way? Indeed, they had stayed at several of them on missions before, so there would be no doubt in D'artagnan's mind that they would be welcoming.
Nevertheless, the three men kept up the pace and arrived in Gascony in good time. From there, it was another day before they rode into Lupiac. The light was fading as they stopped to ask the whereabouts of the D'artagnan farm.
"The farm?" answered the man. "A mile that way, monsieurs, but don't get your hopes up if you're looking for lodgings or food- been boarded up for several months, it has. Still waiting for the order I placed months ago; God rest Monsieur D'artagnan's soul, but the name isn't very popular round these parts any more."
Aramis thanked him for the information and the men rode on in troubled silence. Why would D'artagnan choose to return to a place where his name had such a poor reputation? Or was he not aware? Either way, the three men were keen to find D'artagnan and convince him to return to Paris as quickly as possible.
Lupiac was quiet. Aramis had never been, so had nothing to compare it to, but it was a Saturday evening- surely there should be a market, or people out in their gardens, but Aramis saw no signs of life save the man they had asked for directions and a few stray dogs. He had always trusted his instincts, and right now they were telling him to get out of there quickly and keep a low profile; rather difficult to do on horseback with obvious soldier's pauldrons on their shoulders.
"I think we should tie the horses up and walk the rest of the way" Aramis announced quietly. "Perhaps wear something slightly less conspicuous also."
Athos frowned at the idea of wasting time but knew not to ignore Aramis' instincts, which seemed to align to his own. Something was off in the village; it was too quiet. He led the men over to an empty barn to tie up the horses. This set off another warning bell in his mind; barns were rarely found empty. Even if the residents could not afford to keep horses, the barns would be rented out by those who could afford livestock, creating extra income for the owners and somewhere for those from the outlying villages to keep their animals. Barn space was a commodity which would never be left empty, unless the owners did not need the extra income from rent or livestock. This seemed unlikely from the run-down appearance of the village.
Nevertheless, the Musketeers took the opportunity to tie up their horses and remove their uniforms. Athos felt uncomfortably bare without his pauldron and leathers, but knew Aramis was correct. From his experience, quiet villages usually meant dissatisfied peasants who would not take kindly to anyone associated with the King. The three men chose to keep their swords. They hoped they wouldn't need them, but to go without went against everything they knew.
"Why would he choose to come back here?" asked Aramis in confusion, mirroring Athos' thoughts exactly.
"It's his home" replied Porthos gruffly. "Doesn't matter 'ow rundown it is, if the lad needed to feel safe, home is the place to go."
Aramis clapped the larger man on the back, knowing without him saying anything that he was thinking of the Court of Miracles. Porthos had grown up there and still held a fondness for the place, despite its questionable reputation.
"Come on" he said. "Now we blend in more, we may be able to get to D'artagnan without getting flogged in the town square."
THE MUSKETEERS
Night had fallen by the time they arrived at the farm. Despite the warning, the three men were shocked at what they saw. The exterior was boarded up and from what they could see through the darkness, there were no crops or livestock to be seen. The farmhouse loomed ahead, but it looked deserted; no lights shone through the boarded up windows. Athos was strongly reminded of a smaller version of his mansion when he returned.
"I don't think anyone is here" he sighed heavily. Their only lead appeared to have led them to a dead end; if not here, then where could D'artagnan be?
"It would be rude to come all this way and not even try the door" said Aramis, striding over and rapping the door loudly. No sounds of movement came from within. After giving it a few moments, Athos tried the handle, and the door opened.
"We cannot go in" protested Aramis. "This is D'artagnan's home, he deserves some courtesy!"
"Nahh" responded Porthos. "He ain't here, we may be able to work out where he is from this place though; he may have passed through on 'is way elsewhere"
Athos agreed with Porthos' logic; D'artagnan wouldn't mind them entering an abandoned house, even if he had once lived there. He led the way through the dark corridors, keeping an eye out for anything of note.
"This has got to be one of the most depressing houses I've ever been in, and that includes yours Athos" quipped Aramis. He was right. The whole place smelled musty and was covered by an inch of dust. It was cold and draughty, probably caused by the smashed windows; the boards did little to keep the warmth in. Walking into the kitchen, Athos saw something which caused him to signal the other two to stop and keep quiet.
Smoke rose from a single candle on the table.