As the hunchbacks final note echoed one last time with the noon bells, a young woman in a cobalt blue cloak strolled through the streets of Paris with a large map in hand, the reins of a white horse tied loosely to her arm. "Tuileries, hmmm. can't make sense of it. Leave town for a half a decade and they change everything." She groaned and crumpled the map up in her gloved hands and tossed it behind her carelessly.

Captain Phoebe of the Armee de Terre had spent the last three weeks trying to get home from the war, a personal request from the council having brought her back to Paris for use in domestic order. She had at first been relieved, then intrigued. After all, what kind of unrest would require her to deal with it?

She was supposed to be at the Palace of Justice by half past noon, and at this rate, it didn't seem like she was going to make it without help. Help came in the form of a guard.

"Excuse me," She reached out to get his attention. "Can you direct me to the Palace of-" Her voice trailed off as the guard walked right past her without so much as a nod. "I guess not." She mumbled, blowing a strand of straw blonde hair from her face. Another guard strolled in her general direction.

"Palace of Justice monsieur?" She bit her lip as the guard continued walking, Phoebe wanting to kick herself for using such formalities to a man hardly worth her respect. The captain figured it best to continue walking, hoping a little luck would find her well. Chalumeau tunes drifted through the gray cobblestone streets along with the jangling of a tambourine and the hoofs of a goat. The sounds came from an inlaid corner, two gypsies and a goat the source of the strangely enchanting music.

Vines wrapped around the stone wall, the shade casting dark shadows over the lighthearted teenagers. Both looked to be around that age anyhow. A girl with raven hair played the reed instrument on the bench, a bouncy and lively tune emitting from the instrument. Her eyes were scrunched closed, as if the process of making the music was something that required vast concentration. To her left, a boy that looked not a day past seventeen shook the tambourine with all the smooth grace of a gliding swan.

He was barefoot, the bottoms of his feet near black as a result, and possessed a tawny tint to his skin the contrasted heavily with his raven black hair. The teen was dressed in a white poets shirt that clung to his fit frame only to poof out at his arms; the article unbuttoned down to mid chest, violet straight pants, a turquoise and golden striped bodice and a matching scarf tied tight around his waist, golden bangles lacing the outer ring of the scarf. Along with that there was an anklet and a stud the protruded from his labret, both a matching shade of gold. His features were fair, and upon closer inspection of said features Phoebe noticed a spot of the gypsy boys left eyebrow was shaved from a former piercing directly above his emerald green eyes.

He seemed to notice the captain was staring and gave her a playful grin, batting the tambourine lightly in a near sensual manner as the captain found herself dropping a handful of coins she had leftover from lunch into a plum purple hat that the goat had in the brim of its teeth.

"Steal us blind." She heard a mother say as she dragged her son past the two teenagers and the goat. Thier stare was interrupted by a loud whistle that came from above the wall, presumably from a boy that was watching the performance. The goat seemed to take that as some sort of signal. Unfortunately, he still had the brim of the hat in his teeth, the creature only realizing the mistake with the clatter of the many gold coins. The two gypsies gasped and began to run off, the boy looking back at the scattered pieces of gold and turning back, squatting to the ground to collect his earnings.

He had just finished gathering the coins in the small hat right as the shadows of two guards falling over him, the boys gaze darkening to a hard glare.

"Alright gypsy," The guard made a grab for the hat, his gloved hand clasping around the brim as the teenager glared. "Where'd you get the money?"

The gypsy shot him a withering scowl. "For your information I earned it." He tugged the hat free and backed up, narrowing his green irises threateningly.

"Gypsies don't earn money." The taller guard responded and rolled his eyes in audacity of the teenagers claim.

"You'd steal it!" The fatter guard of the two grabbed the boy by his shoulders, said boy struggling to break out of his iron grip.

"You'd know a lot about stealing," The gypsy gritted his teeth as the tall guard pulled at the hat.

"Troublemaker!" The guard laughed as Phoebe raised a blonde eyebrow at the events unfolding. "Maybe a day in the stocks will cool you down!" The man jeered at the teenager as he delivered a missed kick to his captors stomach. At this, came an unexpected action.

The goat peered up at the guards and lunged at the fat one, knocking the heavy man over as his armor weighed him down like a turtle flipped on its back. The tall guard made a grab for the small white goat and was met with a back hoof kick to the jaw, the man toppling over as the gypsy took the opportunity and ran with the hat in hand and his goat trailing behind.

"Come back here gypsy!" The guards regained their stance and began to change after said gypsy, a thought coming to Phoebe's mind as she gave Hippolyta's reins a sharp tug that made the horse reer forward like a wall to stop the men, both slamming into the white horse and slumping to the street, the fat one falling back onto his large behind and the tall one collapsing directly below the horse's rear.

Another devious idea entered the captain's mind. "Lyta, sit." She whispered and looked into the animals onyx eyes as the horse followed her commands. She planted her butt on top of the guards back, a heavy wheeze coming from said guard as the air was pushed from his lungs like a fireplace bellows.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry." Phoebe said in a smarmy tone, casting a look and not seeing the gypsy boy anywhere, a smile crossing her face as she realized her plan had succeeded. The laughs of the other peasants echoing at the guards misfortune. "Naughty horse, naughty!" She feigned scolding her faithful companion.

"Really, you just can't be too careful." She continued as the guard moaned from beneath the beast's rear, his cries pitiful and near humorous after watching his flare of arrogance at the gypsy boy. "Get this beast off of me!" He moaned.

The other guard, having regained his posture, revealed a sharpened dirk out of his boot heel. "I'll teach you a lesson, peasant!" The fat one growled.

Before he could even blink, Phoebe's apologetic gesture grew into a thin and confident smile as she tossed the fold of her cloak aside to reveal the golden breastplate and removed a long sword from the scabbard at her waist. "You were saying, Lieutenant?" She flashed a sarcastic grin at the large man, whose eyes grew large in recognition.

"Ca-ca-captain!" The guard stuttered and slammed his hand to his head, cursing wildly as said hand hit the metal disk that sufficed for a helmet. "At your service." He continued, beads of sweat beginning to drip down his face as the woman lowered her sword, the blade slicing off one half of the fallen guards mustache.

"I understand you're very interested in the boy, but," Pheobe cracked a warm smile. "Palace of Justice, gentlemen?" She stooped down to the other guard, who gulped from beneath Hippolyte.

In all of fifteen seconds, the guards were leading the captain onward to the Palace.

But as the captain walked behind the guards, he noticed something. Whether or not it was him, she couldn't be sure, but the cloaked figure with the same hat slumped against a building sure seemed familiar. It was a clever disguise, the goats grey bread peeking from the shade of the article of cloth. Phoebe picked up the coins that were left by the gypsy, and dropped them into the hat before walking along with the guards to her meeting with the infamous Judge Frollo.


Beneath the near infinite halls of the basement of the Palace of Justice; the sounds of scurrying rats and crying people could be heard over the dripping of the damp stone walls. Phoebe felt rather on edge for this meeting, the atmosphere not exactly helping her case. She was a very brave and strong headed person, but for some sad reason, basements and catacombs made her stomach do flips.

The stench was hardly anything to be acclaimed, the air reeking of mildew and rot; whether that rot was from the wooden floors above or the bodies locked up in their long abandoned cells she wasn't sure of, but hoped she wouldn't be visiting this place anytime in the near future; be it for discipline or visiting.

As she rounded another corner, another sound greeted her ears. Loud screams; that of a man's, and the sound of whipping leather strands across weakened flesh. Along with that sound came a glow from around the wall, a bright, kiln orange glow. The captain also felt a noticeable difference in the temperature, the air becoming comfortably warm; despite the obvious torture coming from the area.

"Stop." Came a dark voice from in front of the light. "Ease up." It said.

Phoebe rounded the corner despite her discomfort, hiding the look on her face until she got an eyeful of the judge. The man not ten feet from her was tall, dressed in customary violet and black robes and a goofy looking triangular hat with a red satin ribbon flowing down to the lower back of the judge. He had his pinched and soured face turned away from the captain and at the man inflicting the torture on the man inside.

"Up?" The torturer replied and wrinkled his nose at his boss.

"Wait between lashes. Otherwise the old sting will dull into the new." The man nodded and went back into the kiln-like room with a deviously happy grin on his face.

The judge turned, and Phoebe fought to hold back her shock. "Ah, so this is the valiant captain Phoebe, home from the wars!"

"You're a woman?" Was the first thing out of her mouth; and the captain immediately regretted her words at the cynical, deathly cold glare the old woman gave her. Her shock was now suppressed into a hard and waiting stare, her thin lips pressed into a flat line as if awaiting orders.

The judge scoffed and began a confident stride around the other woman, obviously unimpressed. "Your reputation precedes you, dear. I however, do not expect this kind of observation in the future. Am I understood?" She said in a dark and threatening voice that made the captain's insides tremble.

"Yes, Ma'am. It will not happen again." The captain responded.

"Good. I expect nothing but the best from a hero such as yourself. You once defeated an entire English army with a troop of fifty, should I be correct." Frollo rounded once more, Phoebe remained silent despite the fact that she had taken out a Liegen army with a troop of seventy, but she knew better than to correct her higher ups; especially one this ruthless.

Instead, "Yes, Ma'am. And you shall have it. I guarantee it."

"Yes," The judge leaned in a bit as if inspecting her for dust. "You see, my last Captain of the Guard was," She paused and clasped her hands. "A bit of a disappointment to me." Frollo practically hissed just as the sound of the whip returned, and a terrible, bloodcurdling scream came from the archway in front of the pair. Phoebe figured that the judge needn't say more. It was obvious where that captain was now.

"Now," The woman began to stroll from the hall to a door the captain had not noticed before. "Outside." She said and pulled the iron latch on the door to reveal a set of winding steps that led to a balcony. It was easy for the captain despite the plates of her armor weighing more than Hippolyte.

The side passage to the Palace of Justice looked out over the same street corner that Phoebe had seen the gypsy boy; wondering how on earth she had been that close to it and not realizing it. The passage itself was more of a balcony, the elegant Gothic of the railing, columns, roof; attracting attention away from the darkness that seemed to surround the building itself. The judge strolled along before stopping at the sound of a chalumeau and grimacing at the music it made.

"You've come to Paris in her darkest hour, Captain." The judge stated matter-of-factly. "It will take a firm hand to save the weak minded from being so easily misled." She pursed her lips together in a scornful glare down at the streets below.

This intrigued Phoebe. "Misled, Ma'am?" She asked following the judge's gaze down to the road; not seeing any signs of trouble she needed to deal with.

"Look at them, Captain." The judge sighed and lowered a wrinkled arm to the road to indicate a corner where there were people gathering. "Gypsies."

On the cobblestone road, Phoebe felt a glint of recognition at the same gypsy boy with tambourine in hand, the raven haired girl playing the reed instrument once more as they both had been before the guards showed up. Only this time with a fairly large amount of people and coins involved. Gold clattered to the street like rain, the little white goat prancing around with the hat in his teeth in a failed effort to catch them all.

Phoebe raised a thin, golden eyebrow. Frollo seemed to notice, and continued. "The gypsies live outside the normal order. Their heathen ways inflame the commoners lowest instincts." She continued to glare at the two gypsies as if they were maggots she had found crawling in her cheese. "And they must be stopped." The judge turned to face the younger woman and clasped her hand into a fist with a threatening glow in her grey, soulless eyes.

The captain raised her eyebrow farther, her disbelief easily visible. "I was brought from the wars," She began to think of the horrible conditions for the prisoners of war and the men that were captured, the visions of what the woman had seen making the torture of the last Captain of the Guard looking like the prick of a pin. "To capture fortune tellers and palm readers?" She almost laughed at the idea of something so mundane when she was needed elsewhere.

"The real war, captain," The judge refused to lower her gaze. "Is what you see before you." She continued with wisdom.

"For over twenty years I have been;" Frollo paused to think of the right words. "Taking care, of the gypsies." Her finger drifted down to the surface of the railing, her spindly fingers trailing along the decorative flat, gray, stone.

Three little black beetles crawled along the same surface. "One," The elder squished the closest beetle beneath her ring finger. "By," Her index finger flattened the next one. "One." Her thumb smashed the final beetle and grinding it into the rough stone with hate.

"And yet, for all my success," Her hands clasped around the decorative stone plate. "they have thrived." Frollo lifted the stone from the railing to reveal what could have been hundreds upon hundreds of the very same beetle resting beneath the decor.

"I believe they have a safe haven within the very walls of this city; a nest if you will. They call it the 'Court of Miracles.'" The pious woman continued in a tone that suggested she knew this 'Court of Miracles' existed for a fact. Phoebe removed her helmet; her blonde hair spilling down in a well kept ponytail that went to the lower half of her back.

"What are we going to do about it, Ma'am?"

At this, the judge's face hardened and with a swift movement of her hands, she slammed the stone back into its groove; a loud crunch coming from the death of the hundreds of beetles that were still within the gap.

"You make your point quite vividly, Ma'am." Phoebe remained unmoved; despite the fact that she knew exactly what her boss's point was.

"You know, I like you, Captain. Shall we?" The judge showed not a hint of irritation at her minions indifference right as a series of loud cheers came from the street below; indicating the beginning of the Feast of Fools.

"Ugh." She suddenly grimaced. "Duty calls." She started to walk off before turning to Phoebe. "Have you ever experienced a peasant festival, my dear?"

The question seemed so innocuous and out of the blue. In truth, the young woman remembered exactly what a peasant festival was like; having been in attendance at the same festival since she was four with her parents up until she was sent off to war.

"Yes, Ma'am." She answered.

The judge seemed taken aback, but the slight shock faded rather quickly into a knowing gaze. "Well then, you know what to do." She nodded and walked off with the captain trailing behind, off to the Feast of Fools.