The trickling remnants of today's disgusting display were prominent even from here. The joyful cries of those vermin as they relished in their depravities, and fooled the good people of Paris into following right alongside, rang like the bells of Notre Dame in his ears, loud and overseeing, and warranting his nigh hatred. But it never truly faded, always simmering like water set to boil above His fire in the deepest depths of Hell, his hatred for them, and this wretched day most of all, this wretched day which he had the unfortunate role of overseeing. The flashes of bright colour from the festival as it was slowly put together piece by piece flew through the air like flaming torches, and music seeped the distance between the festival grounds in front of Notre Dame and the once quiet cobbled street of Paris the Minister of Justice walked now.
Judge Claude Frollo's frame was like a ghost amidst a party of the living, a black widow in a lively meadow, a banshee against a field of lucky green clovers. People of various ages darted across the cobbled streets like children first set off into the world by Providence, carrying various colourful banners, decorations, poles of tents and various foreign-looking memorabilia.
Disgustingly foreign, Frollo made an act of noting to himself. Anyone with eyes and ears could tell just how little attachment he held towards anything that he considered not worthy of entering the walls of France, comfortable in this position, and comfortably in spreading such views to others with his high position in the King's court.
Now, what on earth could bring out such disdain from a man who already appeared to hate all of the parts that made reality beautiful to anyone else's eyes? Surely, the festivities of folks would bring at least a little levity to the hearts of others, even if for a reason viewed as abhorrent, even if in a fashion of contrasts. Well, this narrator will tell you; it was because today was the Festival of Fools, the day of the Romani, or, as Frollo always took to calling them, and thus encouraged others in Paris to do the same, gypsies. On this day, they could be free, the day was theirs for the taking and to drink in like the purest waters of a blessed spring, only found every once in a while; or, in this case, once per year on the sixth day of 'Januvery' as they would sing aloud in the streets.
Fortunately, at least in Frollo's mind, he was not obligated to head straight to the destination of this hideous occasion, with the place in his mind instead being the mighty Notre Dame Cathedral.
The cathedral was one of the greatest sights in Paris, and to many, in the whole world; it towered above the city below, its towers and spires standing high as if piercing the heavens. Its stone was pale white, and was cut to perfection, looking pure under any light, offset by the marvellous stained-glass rose windows. Up at the highest peak, bells hung from the roofs, and their song could often be heard all throughout the city whenever they tolled. And of course, they did not ring by themselves; and Frollo knew that in particular, all too well...he had ever since that day, eighteen years before. The eyes of Notre Dame would never let him forget, and the one who stood there at the top of the belltower and the sight of his horrific face never did either. The one who the charitable would dub as his 'adopted son'. Yes...he relived it almost every night, believing He might be trying to tell him something; and it had been with that, that something else had accompanied it.
Frollo willed it to be the great powers of Him, a way for him to rid this vile corrupted earth of the dregs of society that scattered all through this city. That much he was certain of...these peculiar powers appeared to him one night and called upon strange creatures that replicated the likeness of those found on this earth, yet still held an unworldly distance from them, and from this world. At the first sight of them, his heart had constricted, and almost stopped - he had questioned if Notre Dame herself intended punishment for him, albeit for no crime as far as his narrow eyes viewed it, if these creatures were there to bring him to the pearly gates before his time as Minister of Justice had been fully served. But, he reminded himself, he held to his faith, and they did not turn on him; on the contrary, they obeyed his wills and whims.
As it were, he intended to demonstrate this new capability to Captain Phoebus. The man's name spoke for him; four years at the front under the King's service, and ever-loyal for it. However, he was not one to immediately assume the results would be laced in gold - if he wasn't able to carry out the tasks he had in mind for him, then it would be all for nought. Though, he did suppose it would be a challenge to be as skinless as the previous captain...both figuratively, and literally - there was a reason nobody liked to be too close to the Palace of Justice, lest they had business there, after all...
After today, Frollo's mind twisted and turned with intention for the 'rats' that had been gnawing at the city, at the continent! If he could keep his grasp on that firm, perhaps he could get through today with a mind at rest and peace. After all, He often did place trials before the worthy, before the results of their labour came into being...