The day had finally come when the Musketeers and other patrols had to escort the Royal company back to Paris. Aramis ached for the noise, the smell and the business of Paris, but Queen Anne's discrete smiles eased his nostalgia. D'Artagnan was riding his horse as closely to Constance's carriage occasionally making her laugh. Athos and Porthos were leading the troupe and their attention was directed towards a good amount of men blocking the way to the castle. When they were close enough, they realised the meeting was actually a riot. They stopped their escort to see what the fuzz was all about. All four of the Musketeers went ahead and called upon the first villagers they saw. The men were carrying torches and farming tools as weapons.

'The evil has been amongst us for too long' said the elderly while spitting on the floor. He had a big hat hiding his sun damaged face and he was missing many teeth.

'What's this nonsense?' asked D'Artagnan.

'It's the house upon the hill sir. It had haunted us for years now and we will stop the devil from continuing his work' answered what seemed to be the son of the elder.

'How? By burning the whole thing to the ground?' asked Porthos irritated.

'If we have to, we will. It can be any worse than what it has put us through' said the old man.

'What about the people that live in there?' continued Porthos.

'They are as damned as the actual house! They should burn with it!' said the old man who had to be tranquilized by his son so that he doesn't hurt himself.

'We are giving them a chance to leave in peace' said his son 'but many believe that they don't deserve one'.

'This is ridiculous we must stop this at once' said Porthos.

'We ' said Athos gesturing himself and D'Artagnan ' will guide the King and his men through another road. I don't like making him pass through angry villagers; we'd be putting him in an uncomfortable situation for no reasons. These men are just angry, the two of you should find out why they are putting their discontent on this house' .

As Athos suggested, Porthos and Aramis made their way to the front door constantly having to remind the crowd that they are the King's Musketeers and they wanted a passage made. They were welcomed in the house by an old man. The word welcomed wasn't quite appropriate as he was not welcoming at all. Frankly, he was an old Grinch but none of our honorable Musketeers could come to such conclusion. They saw him as emotionally shaken by the events therefore, forgetting his manners.

The valet introduced them to three ladies, which seemed to be three generations of the same family. The oldest had red hair and eyes so light, they seemed damaged. The second oldest had around figure and clean, brown and groomed hair. The youngest seemed not even a fully grown woman yet. Her red curls did not want to stay in place and she kept avoiding eye contact with the Musketeers. The two first were widows, their husbands died on the battlefield and they were about to marry off the youngest explained the middle aged woman.

'That is all very lovely, but that is not why we are here' said Aramis while holding his cross. He did not believe the talk of the peasants, but this house surely had devilish vibes to it. It was so loud; it seemed to be filled with walking guests. It was so old, it surely lived through many families and some might even have perished in there.

'If you are talking about the riots exhibited in front of our house, there is nothing much we can do about it. Its only ignorance and hatred, I assure you.'

'Ignorance and hatred of what exactly?' asked Porthos.

'Of us. You see, we had to rebuild our lives after our husbands left. We were not blessed with a physique that would offer us the opportunity to make a second marriage after the many years we spent on the first one and the child we had. My daughter is my only child and I do not have any siblings. My mother and I had an oddly similar life and the peasants call it witchcraft' The lady snorted as if the idea made her laugh, before continuing:' As I was saying, we had to provide for ourselves and our family which the vile men of the village did not enjoy. Times are rough you know? And having work taken away from you by women? Ah, that's more than they can take'.

Aramis smiled at the ferocity in the madame's tone. She had had it rough indeed. But he liked her perseverance and tried his best to stop his irrational unwellness .

'Tell us, what is it that you do?' he asked politely and smiled at the youngest still hiding behind her hair.

'Anything we can to stay alive. At first, we used to cook bread and sell it on the streets.' She seemed ashamed of her rather modest beginnings. 'Eventually, we got to understand a little the business that is made around here. We offered chambers, but no one would want to lodge here. I learn my husband's – god have his soul – work. He was a blacksmith. I made small business. I was good and I didn't ask much. At first, I lied. I said that the blades were made by my nephew and that I was only selling them, but the villagers figured out my scheme. That's when the witchcraft accusation started. Because a woman can't simply be better than a man at a man's job.'

Porthos looked at Aramis sideways, they were not welcome here. These women had definitely had their fair share of bad macho experiences and the house itself seemed to want them out. He noticed behind Aramis a hallway that contrasted with the rest of the house. It wasn't as old and nor was it falling apart.

'What's with this part of the house?' asked Porthos.

'It burned down' It was the first time the older woman had spoken. He tone was hard and low. She did not bother to look up the Musketeers, she seemed blasé by everything that was surrounding her. Maybe she actually even was blind.

'My mother is right. We don't know how the fire started. My best guess is that these rats parading in the streets have come to finish what they started. ' She took a deep breath and controlled herself before continuing. 'We had to renovate it. Unfortunately, we did not have the means to do the same to the rest of the house, leaving that part standing apart.

The two men thanked the ladies and were happy to leave the gloomy place. Something was so odd about it, that Aramis even made a small prayer before leaving in order to keep the women safe especially the younger one. On their way to the castle, they stopped some more villagers to get their versions. The men admitted to everything they were told in the house. They were still convinced that they were witches. They said that the women had set a curse on their husbands to willingly become widows and own their properties. They also said that they were willing to sell their souls for a couple of dimes. All of which seemed pretty reasonable to the Musketeers. Not everybody had the luxury to live the life of the ones they were escorting for the last couple of days. The men continued their talk and caught the attention of the Musketeers more. They said that young women sometimes went to that house and that the house owners never let them go. They were told to torture them and to feed of the pain of the women that came to them in need for help. Odd sounds were to be heard at all time of the day or night from the newest part of the house. Also, anytime anyone went near the house to reclaim justice, he or she always failed. He or she always left the house and never had a word about it to anyone ever again. The villagers say that they were bewitched and that's why they decided to take the matters in their own hands.