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Chapter Text

December 2, 1481

The cold wind blew through the streets of Paris. Two white mice in peasant clothes roamed the abandoned streets. Pinky, the tall slim mouse who donned a light green tunic, grey hose, and blue shoes, loyally trailed behind his good friend Brain, the smaller and chubbier mouse who wore a navy blue tunic, brown hose, black shoes, and a brown leather satchel around his shoulders. The two rodents were desperately searching for a place to stay after Brain’s failed attempt to take over the world backfired so badly that Acme Apothecaries, their place of residency, had blown to kingdom come.

Pinky rather missed the dingy smell of hay and unsanitary lab equipment, but he had high hopes that their next home would be just as comfortable and cozy. Brain, however, held no such sentiment for the laboratory. While he and his companion tried to take over the world every night, they were subjected to cruel experiments by the scientists that worked there during the day. The tests they endured caused a lot of physical and emotional devastation to Brain. The intelligent vowed that the very first law he’ll decree as the undisputed leader of the world would be to outlaw all animal testing. The only real benefit to residing in the apothecary was the seemingly unlimited resources necessary for his intricate plots for world domination. But despite this loss, the eloquent mouse was glad to be free from his prison. He would have to abscond other materials for his future endeavors of world domination.

Now without a place to call home, Pinky and Brain traversed all throughout the city of Paris in search of a stable roof over their heads. Both mice shivered miserably from the cold weather. 

The grumblings of Pinky’s stomach alarmed them both. 

“Poit! Oh, Brain,” Pinky cried. “My tummy is getting all grumpy and growly, and there isn’t a Denny’s to be found in this part of the city!”

Brain felt a pang of sympathy for his friend. He felt exceedingly guilty for the botched attempt at global conquest, which cost them the only stable roof over their heads. But he was determined to find a new home for his best friend.

“No need to fret dear Pinky, for I guarantee you that we will find a place with a nice warm fire and all the cheese you could possibly want.” Brain assured his worried friend. Though he was unsure if they could find such a place, he was willing to try for the sake of his best friend. 

“Oh, goody! Narf!” Pinky cheered as he clapped his pink paws. 

As they continued their search, Brain discovered a small hole in one of the buildings that exuded a warm golden light. A perfectly suitable place to stay for the night. “Come along, Pinky!” He grabbed his friend’s hand, yanking him into the inviting mouse hole. The taller mouse let out a small “Troz!” as he was pulled in.

The two genetically-enhanced lab mice walked through the hole and found a kitchen filled with all sorts of foods. Pinky was entranced by the wheels of various different cheeses stacked on one of the tables. 

“Egad Brain, brilliant!” Pinky exclaimed with joy. “Now we have all the cheese we could ever want!” 

But the celebration was cut short when the cheesemonger spotted them. The large man was alarmed by the sight of two mice standing around in his kitchen. 

“Sacre Bleu!” He cried out. The proprietor turned to the door and let out a loud whistle. “Marie! Toulouse! Berlioz!” He commanded. 

On cue, three cats (one white, one orange, and one black) emerged from the other room and strutted their way into the kitchen. The two white mice gazed at the felines with fear and alarm as the three cats eyed their targets.

The two immediately escaped from the kitchen through the same hole and were back on the cold, unforgiving streets, running for their lives from three predatory cats that were hot on their trail. 

As they ran, Brain noticed the iron gated fence towards his left and immediately yanked Pinky by the arm. The two mice jumped through the metal bars, which were thankfully wide enough for Brain’s unusually large cranium to fit through, and landed on the powdered snowbank in the street below. Popping out of the soft snow, Brain shook the snow off of his head and steadied his satchel. He noticed Pinky’s right hand sticking out from the snowbank and immediately plucked his friend like a delicate rose from a prickly rose bush. Picking themselves back up, the two mice continued to make their getaway. Brain quickly glanced behind him to see the three cats clawing through the bars of the fence. 

“Yes!” He declared. This should buy them enough time to find a safe haven while the cats are still wracking their noggins by the iron gate. 

“Brain!” Pinky panted heavily. “I-I need to take a break!”

Brain wanted to ignore his companion’s pleas, but he decided that they could benefit from taking a short break so they don’t run out of steam. “Oh, alright!” He surrendered. The smaller mouse gestured towards the nearby alleyway and Pinky dutifully followed his intelligent friend. Once they made their pitstop, both mice put their hands on their knees as they tried to catch their breath after fleeing from the cats. 

“Oh, this is terrible, Brain!” Pinky cried in between breaths. “First we lose our home, and now we’re running for our lives from a pack of cats in the mean streets of Paris all while on an empty stomach!” The mouse fell to his knees, looked up to the sky, and let out a desperate cry. “Isn’t there a place that can give us mice sanctuary!?!?” 

Then, right on cue, the melodious bells rang out from Notre Dame de Paris and echoed throughout the city. Brain turned his large head over to the source of the bells. Carefully peeking from the alley, the mouse gazed at the magnificent cathedral that towered over the city.

“Sanctuary…” Brain muttered to himself as he formed an idea that would guarantee safety for himself and his dim-witted, but extremely loyal friend. While he was aware that the cathedral mainly served as a place of worship for Catholics, he also knew that the church also functioned as a safe haven. A place that granted sanctuary to wayward souls under the protection of secular law. 

“That’s it!” He exclaimed. 

Thrilled by Pinky’s unwitting words of inspiration, Brain happily held his friend’s hands. “Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” He asked excitedly. 

“I think so, Brain,” Pinky replied. “But do you really think I have what it takes to be a dancer at the Moulin Rouge?” The lanky mouse released his hands from his friend’s hold and proceeded to demonstrate his moves by doing the can-can. 

The anachronistic non-sequitur response caused Brain to contort his face into an annoyed frown. He furiously rubbed his temple with his hand as he was too tired to bop his friend’s noggin. “No Pinky, we’ll find sanctuary in the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris!” He explained exasperatedly. With a swift tug at Pinky’s collar, he directed the taller mouse’s gaze towards the grand church. 

Pinky stared at the grand building that towered over the other homes and businesses in the square. “Naaarf.” He awed in amazement, his blue eyes glistening with wonderment at the sight of the magnificent church. 

“Beyond being a place of worship and a marvelous architectural accomplishment, Notre Dame is also a safe haven for people in need.” Brain informed as he let go of the taller mouse’s collar. “All we have to do is make our way through the city square, knock on the doors, and then a member of the church will grant us entry. The moment we step inside the cathedral we’ll claim sanctuary, thus granting us the right of asylum! Then we’ll be safe from those wretched felines, and have a place to stay for the night!”

“Egad, brilliant Brain!” Pinky cheered, clapping his hands while hopping from one foot to the other. Finding sanctuary in the church was Brain’s best idea yet! The taller mouse was exceedingly optimistic that this plan won’t involve any explosions or ointment. 

“After we are guaranteed sanctuary inside the cathedral, we shall rest and then prepare for tomorrow night!” Brain said confidently. 

“Why Brain?” Pinky asked his shorter companion with a confused frown. “What are we going to do tomorrow night?”

“The same thing we do every night Pinky,” Brain replied with a serious expression on his face, his pink eyes shining with determination. “Try to take over the world!” 

As the bells of Notre Dame echoed from the towers, the mysterious bellringer hurried down the stairwell to complete his next set of chores in the cathedral’s nave. 

Quasimodo was his name, and beyond being a loyal servant to the church, he was a resident of the bell tower, never to step foot from the cathedral due to his unfortunate appearance. His crooked back arched like a mountain, and a protruding lump covered most of his left eye. Additionally, he possessed a pair of strong, gargantuan arms and mismatched legs that caused him to limp whenever he walked. 

The bellringer’s guardian, or master, Judge Claude Frollo forbade him to ever leave Notre Dame due to his hideous nature and was always quick to remind him that he would only be met with cruelty and scorn from the masses. 

As Quasimodo approached the doorway to the nave, he quickly scanned the premises for any sight of parishioners. There were moments in the past when he accidentally crossed paths with an unsuspecting worshipper, and those instances ended with them either fleeing from him in terror or mocking his appearance. Those encounters served as painful reminders that Frollo’s teachings proved to be true. Noting that there was not another person from the outside world to be seen, he quietly scurried past the door, making his way through the nave and to the supply closet. 

Every night, after the parishioners exited the cathedral, Quasimodo would come down to complete his nightly chores of cleaning the cloisters and the nave. He would mop the tiled floors, replace the candles from the candelabras, and leave one of the doors of the front portal open for those in need of sanctuary. 

He opened up the supply closet and retrieved the mop. Making his way toward the pews, he noticed a few of the monks gathered together in preparation for the evening mass. One of the monks prepared the incense in the thurible. Another monk came walking in, carrying a bucket full of water. His grey hair was worn in a tonsure and his face was evenly shaped by his grey mustache and beard. The monk approached Quasimodo with the intention of handing him the water. 

“Good evening, Quasimodo.” The monk spoke in a low, but kind voice. 

Quasimodo respectfully bowed his head before the monk. “O-Oh, thank you, sir.” He stammered, accepting the bucket from the older man. Gripping his right hand onto the bucket handle, the young man walked off to begin his evening chores. 

After walking a few paces, he dropped the bucket near the pews. He looked into the bucket of water and was reminded of his hideous face. From as far back as he could remember, Quasimodo knew that he was made differently from others. The very first time he looked back at his reflection was burnt into his memory. 

The bellringer dunked the mop into the bucket, destroying the painful reminder of his ugliness. He released a melancholic sigh as he lifted up the mop and got to work, hoping that work would help take his mind off of his problems. He first kept his focus on the tiled floors, noting how symmetrical and neat they looked. However, the perfectly aligned tiles only reminded him that he could never fit in due to his misshapen features. 

The young man’s eyes wandered elsewhere to distract himself from his cursed appearance. The bellringer shifted his gaze toward the various statues and figures in the stained glass windows. Each and every one of them gazed back at him with gentle and compassionate eyes. Despite being told that the cathedral was his sanctuary, Quasimodo’s desire to explore Paris and the outside world grew. Outside of Frollo, Archdeacon Dupin, and the other monks, the only companions he had were extensions of the cathedral itself; the bells, the gargoyles, and the various statues and windows of the saints. Though they could not answer back, he treated them with kindness and respect. Each time Quasimodo rang the bells, they sang their beautiful songs. The gargoyles proved to be worthy companions, as he empathized with the other monsters that watched over the city from above. The saints were very accepting, as they welcomed Quasimodo with their compassionate eyes. From the apostles that convened on the spire to the saints that stood tall along the west facade. 

Quasimodo pondered as he observed the statues that surrounded him. If the saints could look back at him, who’s to say that people out there wouldn’t see him solely as a monster? 

Oh, how he longed to have companions to call his own. People who would accept him without judgment, listen to his musings, and share their own opinions in return. The world showed so much of itself to the young man. A place of opportunity and beauty. Each day he would watch the Parisians go about their daily lives, from the women engaging in gossip to the children eagerly playing their games in the city square. The bellringer wished to be a part of the world and make lasting connections with other souls. 

But the booming voice of Judge Claude Frollo echoed his stern lessons in the back of the poor bellringer’s mind. 

You are deformed and ugly, Quasimodo. 

If you step foot outside of your sanctuary, you will be at the mercy of the cruel and unforgiving masses.

It’s for the best that you stay in the cathedral. 

I am your only friend, and no one else would want to associate themselves with a monster like you. 

Quasimodo released a dejected sigh. “Frollo’s right.” He quietly admitted to himself. Who in the world would want to associate themselves with a monster like him?

As he pondered over his quandary, he scanned the various statues in the nave to find comfort. In mere seconds, he laid eyes on the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who carefully cradled her infant Son in her arms. 

He leaned the mop over to the side of the pew and made his way over to the Holy Family. Quasimodo gazed into the merciful eyes of the stone faces of Mary and Jesus Christ. The bellringer respectfully bowed before them. Clasping his hands together, he began his humble prayer. 

“I-I know that master would not allow me to ask for such fanciful things, but I…” He paused for a moment and looked down at the tiled floor. He stood still, wondering if he should even speak of his desires. After a moment, he pushed to get the words out. “I wish to have a life out there, and to find friends I could call my own…” 

Quasimodo gathered the courage to look up at the statues, expecting his prayer to be met with scorn or mockery. But the Mother and Son still held their compassionate expressions, as if they acknowledged his plight and listened with understanding ears. Quasimodo exhaled in relief. The caring faces of the Holy Family encouraged the bellringer to continue his prayer. 

“I only wish to walk the streets of Paris, like any other man, and to have other people who would care about me, a-and accept me for who I am.” he quietly explained. “As much as I do not wish to upset my master, I want to have a chance to explore the city I love and find friendship along the way. So please...give me the strength to follow my dreams.” 

The stone statues of Mary and Jesus maintained their loving expressions as they listened to the bellringer. Quasimodo gratefully smiled at the Mother and Son, concluding his prayer with a soft “Amen.” 

Feeling lighter, he limped over toward the pew and returned to his duties. Dunking the mop into the bucket, he began to clean the tiled floors. But moments later, he heard a soft rapping on the cathedral doors. 

Quasimodo curiously lifted his head up. He knew that it was rather windy, but there was something off. The young man leaned the mop against the stone wall and rushed over to the front doors. As he drew closer, he heard something else that proved to be quite concerning. 

“Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” Two desperate voices cried out through the church's main doors, a high-pitched voice of an undistinguishable accent and a deeper voice. 

“Sanctuary! Please, give us sanctuary!” The deeper voice begged. 

Quasimodo picked up the pace. There were a pair of souls who needed sanctuary and he needed to intervene. For once, his insecurity over his hideousness subsided. Granting the poor souls the help they deserved was far more important. 

Once he reached the entrance, he pushed the center door open, expecting the two people to rush into the church. However, he was surprised to discover two white mice, each wearing a tunic and hose, fleeing into the church. One mouse was tall and lanky with a shining bulbous nose and small tufts of hair on the top of his head. The other was a small, pudgy mouse with big floppy ears and an enormous head. The bellringer stood puzzling over the two rodents in need when the ferocious meows from three cats broke his train of thought. 

“Close the door! Close the door!” the smaller mouse yelled desperately. Quasimodo obliged, shutting the giant wooden door. He heard the three high-pitched howls as the felines collided with the main portal. 

Pinky and Brain landed on the floor with a thud. The mice took a moment to gather themselves, thankful that they were alive. Brain slowly got up on his little legs and hoisted Pinky back up on his feet. The smaller mouse wanted to thank the person who granted him and his friend asylum, but he remembered that they needed to proclaim their need for safety within the confines of the cathedral. 

“Sanctuary!” Brain cried out, hoping that the person could hear him. “My friend and I claim sanctuary!”

Pinky shivered from the cold. Brain gently patted his friend on the back. “There there, my dear Pinky. We’re safe now.” 

But a strange and twisted shadow loomed over the mice, covering them in darkness. The two ivory-furred friends gazed at the source of the shadow and gasped in unison. Brain latched himself onto Pinky, and Pinky immediately pulled Brain close. Both mice shivered with anticipation, fearing what would come. Slowly basking himself in the faint candlelight, an unfortunate-looking individual appeared. 

The mice still clung to each other as they inspected the man’s deformed features. He had a protruding wart covering his left eye, his back arched over like a mountain, his legs crooked and bent, and large gargantuan arms that intimidated the mice. Pinky and Brain gazed in fear, pondering how to stay in the deformed person’s good graces, lest they want to invoke his fury and deal his wrath. 

“Please have mercy on us,” Brain begged, fearing the worst. At that moment, the mouse decided to appease the stranger by acknowledging the Catholic faith. “Though we are mere mice, we are also children of God!” 

“We don’t want to be cast out on the street again!!” Pinky cried hysterically as tears started to fall like raindrops. 

“A-Are you alright?” The bellringer asked worriedly. His soft voice warmly echoed through the mice’s ears and they sighed in relief. Their mysterious rescuer did not threaten them. Rather, he welcomed them. 

Brain’s eyes were still locked onto the man’s unusual physical features. He was rather short for an adult man, but he also looked physically strong from the sight of his gargantuan arms and muscled legs. Soft red hair framed his face, and his blue-green eyes sparkled with kindness, matching his gentle voice. While his eyes were almost as beautiful as Pinky’s blue eyes, they were just as soft and inviting. 

“We’re quite alright, thank you.” Brain answered politely. 

Pinky stood up on his feet and threw his arms in the air. “Our hero!” he declared with a grin. The lanky mouse sprinted towards the bellringer, launching himself onto his ankle in a great big hug. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He cried out jubilantly. “If it hadn’t been for you, Brain and I would have been cat food! Troz!” After giving an extra squeeze of affection, he jumped down and proceeded to mercifully kiss the bellringer’s feet. Brain tiredly shook his head at his friend’s over-the-top displays of affection. 

Quasimodo stared in shock at the mouse showering him with gratitude. Perhaps he spent too much time in the cathedral, for he knew from the occasional rat that would scurry through the bell tower that rodents don’t normally talk or wear clothes. Maybe he was really starting to lose it. “Talking mice,” he laughed in disbelief as he ran his hand through his red mane. “Imagine that…” 

At that moment, Brain decided to take the opportunity to make his acquaintance in the hopes to forge a beneficial allyship.

“You would be correct, young man.” The big-headed mouse answered honestly. “My name is The Brain, and the mouse who’s smothering his affection upon your feet is my friend Pinky. Together, we are a pair of genetically altered mice who are plotting to take over the world.”

Quasimodo suddenly felt shy. He never engaged in a conversation with anyone outside the church before. He expected people to shun him due to his monstrous appearance. However, he was shocked to see one mouse kissing his feet in gratitude and the other mouse initiating conversation with him without any trace of fear or hesitation. The bellringer decided that it would be polite to respond. Though he had no clue what the appropriate response was to a mouse who openly admitted his desire for world domination, he was going to try his best anyhow. 

“H-how fascinating,” he replied bashfully. 

Brain tilted his head at the man’s response. Normally, most people would laugh at his honesty or brush it aside, like the simpletons that they were. But the young man seemed rather intrigued. There was genuine kindness in his voice that indicated his interest despite his shyness. Perhaps there was more to this strange-looking individual. 

The big-headed mouse walked up to the bellringer. He stopped at Pinky’s side, who was still showcasing his affection. “Forgive my companion’s groveling. He may be feeble-minded and imbecilic, but he means well.” Brain explained as he grabbed a hold of Pinky’s tail and gave a swift tug to cease his ridiculous behavior. As Pinky fell onto the ground, he gave a hearty laugh and a joyous “Narf!”, not bothered by Brain’s callous behavior.

Brain returned his attention to the man while wearing a humble and earnest expression. “But you did save our lives back there, and, though I loathe to admit it, we are most grateful for your heroism and are in your debt.” 

Quasimodo gazed at the chubby mouse. The bellringer learned long ago that Notre Dame was a place of sanctuary. Not just for himself, but for those who needed it. He was only doing what he thought was right by allowing the wayward souls into the church, but now he realized the full impact of his actions. Touched by Brain’s sincere praise, Quasi kindly smiled at him and Pinky. “You’re welcome.” 

Pinky stood back up, eager to get acquainted with this kind stranger. “And what’s your name?”

“M-my name is Quasimodo,” the young man answered hesitantly. “and I’m the bellringer of Notre Dame.”

Brain winced at the name. Half-formed. Only a cold and cruel person would bestow the young man a name that is reflective of his deformities. 

Pinky, on the other hand, did not seem to mind and was blissfully unaware of the name’s meaning. “Quasimodo, oh what a lovely name! It really rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it Brain? Zort!” He exclaimed. “Quasimodo, Quasimodo!” He sang while prancing around his smaller companion and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The bellringer sadly smiled at the taller mouse. “I-I appreciate your enthusiasm Pinky, but my name means…” He fought the urge to hold back the shameful meaning behind his name before he could finally mutter “‘half-formed.”

When the somber realization hit Pinky, he ceased his prancing. “Oh, well that’s not very nice, now is it?” The mouse sadly uttered. Pinky rubbed his chin as he thought for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Would it be better if we called you Quasi? Or how about Mo? Maybe Q could work?” 

Suddenly, the bellringer gently chuckled at Pinky’s suggestions. But as he pondered, he realized he could benefit from a nickname. “Just call me Quasi.” 

“Yay!” Pinky cheered, clapping his paws with great enthusiasm. “Quasi! What a lovely nickname. Troz!” 

With their acquaintances made, Brain suddenly felt that he was wasting the young man’s time. The bellringer probably had other duties to attend to, and the eloquent mouse decided to explore the cathedral and find a place for him and Pinky to sleep after a long and arduous day. The small mouse cleared his throat. “Well, Quasi, I appreciate your kindness and gentle nature, but my associate and I need to find a place to rest after a long and weary day.” Brain politely bowed before turning around, grasping Pinky’s wrist and tugging him along. “Come Pinky,” 

Quasimodo gazed at the mice. He could tell that they haven’t had a decent meal in a while. The thought of the mice drifting off to sleep in one of the pews or cold tile floor bothered him. Suddenly, he thought of a wonderful idea. He walked a few paces with his awkward gait before stopping the mice in their tracks. Brain looked rather defensive as he held his arm in front of Pinky’s chest. Quasi couldn’t help but smile at his little gesture and thought about how close they must have been for Brain to be so protective of Pinky. The bellringer then knelt down on one knee and extended his open palm in front of the mice. 

“Come with me to the bell tower.” He softly offered. “I-I have some bread and cheese leftover, a warm fireplace, and a bed to sleep in.” 

Brain stared dumbly at Quasimodo. Rather than going about his business and leaving the mice to their own devices, he was offering them food and warmth in addition to the shelter that was granted through religious law. The small mouse was normally distrusting of humans, from the apothecaries who ran experiments on him and Pinky to the egotistical and incompetent politicians, boorish aristocrats, and corrupt authority figures such as the vile Judge Claude Frollo. Brain never encountered another human who was as kind and hospitable as the bellringer was. The smaller mouse was lucky his plan to find a temporary safe haven was working much better than he expected. 

“Well, I can’t say no to an offer like that! Narf!” Pinky gleefully hopped onto the man’s palm. 

“I, too, accept your kind invitation.” Brain cordially agreed as he walked towards Pinky’s side.

The bellringer smiled at the mice as he slowly rose on both feet. As he walked through the nave, he looked over to the mop that leaned against the wall. He shifted his gaze over at the monks gathered by the altar, who were now joined by the Archdeacon. The young man looked at the pair of mice that were safe in his protective hold. Looking back up at the churchmen, the Archdeacon looked back at Quasi with a kind smile. The young man respectfully bowed his head before making his way through the stairwell door. Pinky eagerly waved at the churchmen. Feeling a course of second-hand embarrassment, Brain swiftly jabbed Pinky’s side, ordering him to cease his silly antics. Quasi observed the mice’s interactions and allowed a small chuckle to escape. 

As the bellringer entered the doorway, he began to pick up the pace. Master would be furious if he discovered that he failed to complete his evening chores, but for once he could not bring himself to care. Quasi elected to ignore his nightly duties in the nave in favor of tending to the needs of his new friends. 

Chapter Text

Quasimodo began his climb up the stone stairwell, brightly illuminated by the torches lining the wall. The rhythm of his ascent was slightly faltered due to the limp from his uneven legs. But nevertheless, he remained steady as he carefully carried the mice up the steps. Pinky made himself comfortable, taking a seat in the palm of his friend’s left hand. Brain remained standing despite his legs aching under protest. He did not want to become too accustomed to the bellringer’s kindness if the man decided to send the mice on their way the following morning.

As they ascended the winding staircase, Quasi could not stop thinking about the unusual mice perched in his hand. The bellringer made many animal friends over the years, from the bluebirds and pigeons making their morning visits on the balcony to the bats and rodents that resided in the drafty bell tower. However, those animals never talked back to him in any human language (no matter how much he wanted them to) or wore clothes. The young man was still in disbelief that the two mice understood him and were quite kind and polite. His prayer for companionship had been answered, although not in the way he envisioned. The Lord worked in mysterious ways indeed.

As he gazed at the mice, several questions emerged that needed to be answered. “Forgive me if this sounds rather silly, Brain,” Quasi blurted. “But did you and Pinky make your own clothes, o-or did someone fashion them for you?”

Brain’s ears perked at Quasi’s innocent inquiry. While the humans he previously came across were dismissive and treated them no differently from regular rodents, Quasi spoke to them as if they were people and treated them with proper respect. The eloquent mouse was pleased with the man’s curiosity. “Pinky and I sewn our own attire sometime after receiving genetic enhancement from the scientists at the now-defunct Acme Apothecaries.”

Quasimodo nodded. The scientific research facility was one of the many buildings he memorized over the years. The bold green-yellow lettering on their rather large sign was hard to miss and could be seen from the comforts of the bell tower. The young man recalled a loud noise earlier that morning and saw that the apothecary was reduced to rubble. He could only ponder what caused the lab to fall apart.

“But enough about us. Troz!” Pinky interrupted. “Your tunic looks really lovely. Your tailor must know what he’s doing since it really brings out the colors of your hair and beautiful eyes!”

Quasi’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink upon receiving the taller mouse’s compliments. He never met another soul who was quick to praise his features. “How kind of you Pinky, but I never visited a tailor’s shop before. One of the monks has provided me with clothing that satisfies my...well…” the young man gestured his free hand up and down to emphasize his deformed figure. “This…”

“I see…” Brain nodded. He knew better than to state the obvious.

“Poit...” Pinky sadly agreed.

The bellringer took the mice across the outdoor balustrade. Pinky and Brain gazed up at the vast sky above them. The clouds gave way to the glittering stars that decorated the night sky. Quasi approached the north tower entrance and closed the door behind him.

After climbing the wooden stairs, they reached the belltower. Pinky and Brain were able to see clearly in the dark as they were nocturnal beings and gazed at the lounge. The many discarded statues scattered throughout the tower to the bells that sat vigil above them.

A gust of cold wind blew through the tower. Pinky and Brain shivered as they felt the wind seep through their clothing and into their fur. Brain instinctively rubbed his forearms to keep warm. He could not imagine how someone could not only make a home in the bell tower but deal with the harsh weather.

“I-it’s rather drafty, I should say.” Brain mentioned, his teeth chattering from the cold.

“Y-Y-Yeah,” Pinky agreed as he rubbed his arms up and down.

“Oh, dear!” Quasi said concernedly as he gently placed the mice on the dining room table near the burning candle. “I-I’ll go fetch you some blankets. I’ll be right back!”

The bellringer approached his work desk where he kept his model city and wooden figurines and grabbed two small pieces of cloth from the table. Feeling the soft texture of each cloth, he nodded in approval before swiftly returning to the dinner table.

“I-I apologize for the less-than-inviting weather up here, but I’ll do what I can to warm you up,” Quasi said as he prepared to carefully wrap the mice in the small rags. He needed to prove to them that he was a good host who was worthy of their time and company.

Pinky was more than happy to be held in the bell ringer’s gentle hands as he bundled him with the mouse-sized blanket. “Naaarf.” He cooed as he contently immersed himself in the comfortable blanket.

When Quasi approached Brain, the chubby mouse held up his hand in protest. Although he recognized the young man’s kindness, his painful experiences of being handled by the Acme scientists developed his bitter trust issues with other humans. “I can take care of myself, thank you.” He declared as he took the cloth and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Quasi nodded, respecting the mouse’s personal boundaries. “Very well. I’ll start up the fireplace a-and have dinner prepared.”

The young man sprinted towards the small fireplace that sat near his sleeping quarters. He peered into the small cauldron to see that there was a plentiful amount of broth for his guests. He picked up the two flints and began to hit them together over the firewood. Once a spark emerged, the small embers on the firewood began to grow.

He made his way over to the kitchen to grab the necessary supplies. Opening up the cupboards, he took out three wooden bowls. Afterward, he collected three regular-sized wooden spoons, a larger spoon to stir the broth, and a ladle to serve the meal with. As he went to retrieve three cups, he noticed that they were much too large for the mice. The bellringer rubbed his chin as he pondered a way to make accommodations for his guests. He looked over at the other table, where his sewing basket sat. He then realized that his thimbles would make for excellent cups for the mice. Scouring through the basket, he found two thimbles and brought them over to his pile of utensils. Lastly, he picked up the bottle of red wine and basket of rolls, and some leftover brie that his master brought with him. Gathering the supplies, he sprinted over to the fireplace to make the living area more suitable for dining.

Meanwhile, the mice sat contentedly on the table, all comfy cozy in their blankets.

“You really outdid yourself Brain,” Pinky complimented. “Who would have thought that a bellringer could be so accommodating.”

“Thank you, Pinky,” Brain said softly as he smiled at his companion. “We may not be lodging in a luxurious manor, but we are being cared for by a remarkable and reliable ally.”

“And we made a new friend! Troz! ” Pinky added.

At that moment, Quasi carefully approached the mice. “Let me take you over by the fireplace.” He softly offered as he opened his hands.

The two rodents got up and took their positions in his palms. They steadied themselves as Quasi brought them over to the fireplace. Pinky and Brain were immediately impressed with how the dining area was set up. Right next to the fireplace, the food basket filled with bread, the small plate of cheese, bowls, cups, and wine bottle were neatly placed on top of a thin blanket. The bellringer gently took his seat on the blanket and placed the mice down.

Pinky marveled at the cozy makeshift dining room. “Egad, what a wonderful picnic! Zort!” He exclaimed before turning around to face the bellringer. “You sure do know how to spoil your guests.”

Quasi nervously rubbed his hand behind his neck. For all the times he prepared his breakfasts or dinners with Frollo, he was never properly praised for setting up the table. The only things he received were a stern frown and an icy glare. So the mouse’s praise seemed almost overwhelming for the humble young man. “Y-You’re welcome, Pinky.”

Brain walked over to the humble earthenware cup. Quasi noticed this and immediately addressed the mouse. “Oh, you don’t have to drink from the cups.” The bellringer took out a pair of thimbles and placed them in front of the mice.

After placing the items on the table, Quasi pulled the cork off of the wine and poured the wine into the humble wooden cup, then carefully transferring it over into the small thimbles.

“Here,” He said softly as he passed the mice their drinks, one thimble at a time. “If you need any more, feel free to ask.”

Brain grasped the thimble and took a long sip of wine. Feeling satiated, he looked up at the bellringer. “Thank you for the clever accommodations, my hospitable chum.”

Quasi respectfully nodded at the compliment. “You’re welcome.”

Quasi placed some cheese on the plate. He then picked up a loaf of bread and broke it into small pieces.

Pinky’s eyes widened as the bellringer placed the food plate on the table. He immediately grabbed a nice piece of brie cheese and shoved it into his mouth. After chewing up and swallowing the cheese, Pinky hummed contentedly, happy to have his fill.

The tall mouse looked up at the bellringer with grateful blue eyes. “Oh, thank you, Quasi!” he praised. “Brain and I are pleased to have such a wonderful host. Narf!”

Quasi was touched by the compliments.

The bellringer got up to inspect the contents in the cauldron. Hot steam rose from the bubbling broth. Quasi immediately fetched the bowls and ladle and was quick to fill each bowl with a good helping of the broth. He carefully walked over to the dining area, steadying the bowls in his hands so they would not spill. Crouching down on his knees, Quasi gently placed the bowls on top of the blanket, placing the one with the most broth in front of his guests.

The mice were handed a bowl of broth with two wooden spoons. “I-I apologize for not finding any spoons fit for a mouse,” Quasi said nervously. “I suppose it would be best if I spoon-fed you if that’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Pinky assured the bellringer.

Quasi took one of the spoons, dipping it into the hot broth, and gently guiding it towards Pinky. Noticing the steam arising from the spoon, he blew the small portion of the broth before the mouse. Pinky happily slurped up the contents from the spoon.

“Mmmmm,” Pinky merrily hummed as he clutched his stomach. “Broth…”

Quasimodo smiled at Pinky, content that his guest was satisfied. He then turned his attention towards the smaller mouse.

Brain grumpily crossed his arms. The thought of being spoon-fed as though he was a mere infant was mortifying. He was a future leader of the world, not some helpless waif.

“Would you like some, Brain?” Quasi gently asked.

Brain looked up to see the young man’s eyes, which glimmered with love and compassion. The soft silver moonlight hitting through the tower combined with the warm light from the fireplace cloaked Quasi in a heavenly glow. But the stubborn mouse could not resist the alluring aroma of homemade broth on a cold December night.

“Absolutely,” The prideful mouse admitted.

Quasi kindly smiled at Brain as he grasped the second spoon and scooped a good helping of broth.

As Brain watched the bellringer with careful eyes, he pondered how different he was from the other humans he interacted with.

The scientists from Acme were cold and uncaring. Separating Brain from his family from the meadow at a young age and subjecting him to countless experiments that caused emotional strife. They paid no heed to his suffering or the suffering of the other laboratory animals. The only things that they seemed to care about were their work and social status.

Brain had only known Quasi for about an hour, and yet the man proved to be the most compassionate and nurturing human being in all of France. Taking him and Pinky into his home and providing them with nourishment when he had no obligation to.

By Brain’s estimation, Quasi was an angelic soul.

Quasi held out the broth-filled spoon before the smaller mouse. Brain assessed the contents of the spoon before carefully sipping the hot liquid. A wave of content washed over him as he swallowed the hearty broth. Brain was quick to consume the rest of the broth from the spoon, eager to warm his stomach with the satisfying meal.

Once Brain finished his fill of the broth, he wiped off the small droplets from his chin. “Well, you make an excellent broth, Quasi.” he complimented. “Thank you for being such a generous host.”

Quasi smiled at the praise. “Would you two like some more?”

“Yes!” Brain exclaimed.

“Yes, please!” Pinky added.

The three companions ate in companionable silence. After a long day, Pinky and Brain were immensely grateful to have a full meal and to be cared for by a compassionate soul. Quasi was also grateful to be surrounded by people he could call friends.

After a while, Brain decided to break the silence by initiating some pleasant conversation. “So, you’re the bellringer of this cathedral. How long have you held that title?”

Quasimodo gazed at the mouse, eager to answer his inquiry. “For about as long as I could remember,” He said honestly. “When I was about four or five years old, I became so fascinated with the bells that I was the assistant for the previous bellringer, Jean.”

The mice listened to the bellringer’s story with great interest.

“Jean Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt?” Pinky asked.

Quasi chuckled “No, Pinky. But now that you mention it, I-I don’t recall his surname…” The young man explained. “Regardless, I do remember him being a wonderful teacher.”

The bellringer smiled as he began to reminisce about the brighter days of his youth. “I remember him coming up to ring the bells, and I was always so eager to help in any way that I could. A-And he taught me the proper ways to ring the bells and how to clean them. But the thing I remember most was how he had the biggest smile whenever he praised my efforts.”

“What happened to Jean?” Brain inquired.

“He passed on when I was thirteen. He was ringing the bells in the south tower during a thunderstorm and fell from a great height.” He sadly explained. “I was devastated by his loss. But the Archdeacon appointed me as the new bellringer not long afterward, and ever since I tried my best to emulate his teachings.”

“I think Jean would be very proud of having taught a great bellringer!” Pinky praised.

“It’s true,” Brain agreed. “Even from the apothecary, we could hear the daily tolls of the bells, and each time they sound absolutely divine.”

The bellringer smiled at their sincere compliments. “Thank you.” As he stared at the mice, he could not help but wonder about their place of origins. Earlier that morning, Quasi had been startled from his slumber when he heard a particularly loud explosion. He hurried outside over to the balcony rail to find Acme Apothecaries, the laboratory located within the Ile de la Cite. He wondered what caused the building to collapse, and if anyone got hurt.

“Forgive me if this sounds rude,” Quasi interrupted. “but how is it that Acme Apothecaries was reduced to rubble?”

The mouse gazed at the floor upon receiving the question. “Since you asked, the reason why the apothecary has been demolished was due to yet another failed plan for world domination.”

The young man’s interest was piqued as he listened to the smaller mouse. “Pinky and I built a giant dragon with the intention of raiding the castle and coercing the King to abdicate from the throne and transfer his royal powers over to me, so I could rule over France, and eventually, the world. However, the plan barely made it past the drawing board and the initial testing phase ended in disaster as we accidentally destroyed the apothecary and rendered us homeless.”

“Was there anyone else in the building at the time?” Quasi inquired.

“No, Pinky and I were the only people in the lab.” Brain answered.

Quasi felt a wave of relief that no one else was hurt, but he also felt sympathetic for the mice as they lost the only home they had. However, there was one more question he had that needed to be answered. “Brain, why do you want to take over the world?”

Brain’s eyes widened at the inquiry. He had several motivations for world domination. Wanting control over his life. Proving that he was more than just a mere laboratory mouse. His headstrong belief was that humans were not running the world properly. But there was one motivation that rose above the rest.

“I want to rule the world because I firmly believe that I can guide this planet with my superior intellect and change it into a better place.” Brain answered truthfully. “The world can be quite unfair to the lowliest of life forms such as Pinky and I, but it shouldn’t have to be.”

Quasi perked up at this explanation. His guardian, Judge Frollo, always reminded him that the world was a cruel place and would be merciless towards him because of his deformities. However, this small mouse decided to challenge this notion.

“Really?” The young man asked.

“Oh yes!” Pinky exclaimed. “Brain is going to help people out and everyone will get along with the fairies and the forest sprites, and everyone will wear shiny pants and live in houses made from piles of mashed potatoes!”

“And once I rule the world, I will ensure through my sovereign powers that the world will be a much fairer place for everyone.” The mouse nodded, however, he decided to add one last detail. “Additionally, ruling the world would immensely satisfy my ego.”

Quasi looked at the mouse and smiled. “I admire your goal, Brain.” He said softly.

Brain was humbled by the bellringer’s words.

“But isn’t there any other way to rule the world that does not involve raiding the castle? Or hurting anyone, for that matter?”

“If there was a way to achieve world domination that did not involve brute force or property damage, then I would most certainly try to go for a more peaceful route.” Brain assured. “As for now, I have to resort to morally ambiguous schemes for global conquest. But rest assured, anyone who has been greatly affected by my rise to power will immediately receive reparations.”

Pinky wrapped his arm around Brain and pulled him close. “Yes, Brain is going to make such a lovely ruler! And he’ll become king of the fairies!” the mouse praised. Brain grimaced as Pinky smothered him with affection.

The bell ringer softly chuckled. He never thought that he would be engaged in a regular conversation, just like any ordinary person would. Just then his smile turned into a concerned frown. He thought about how the mice’s search for a new home had resulted in finding sanctuary in the church, and whether or not they would want to stay in the church.

“So, how long do you wish to have sanctuary?” Quasi asked.

Brain stared at the bellringer with concerned eyes. He figured that there was a price to pay for seeking out shelter. While he and Pinky were grateful to be in the company of such a kind person, he figured that it would be too good to last.

“However long we’re allowed, I suppose.” Brain admitted as he glanced over at Pinky, who also wore a worrisome expression.

“Though we’re in no rush to leave!” Pinky added. “Since we are homeless and all, and we wouldn’t want to leave a lovely place like this so soon. Narf!”

Quasimodo pondered for a moment. “Well, if you’re searching for a home, then you two are more than welcome to stay in the bell tower.”

Brain’s mouth hung open in surprise. The bellringer had to be jesting. Surely he would not wish to have some mice impose on his goodwill and begrudgingly deal with two small freeloaders.

“Really?” Pinky awed.

“Of course,” Quasi answered. “You can stay here for as long as you wish.”

“Are there any conditions?” Brain asked.

Quasi stared at the smaller mouse. There was not anything that he really needed from the rodents besides their friendship. “Well, I could use some company. I-It can get rather lonely up here.”

The mouse tilted his head in disbelief. The bellringer was offering them shelter with no strings attached. While Brain wished he could have his own laboratory and scientific resources, the bell tower would suffice. But being tended to by a generously kind friend made his current situation sweeter than he could have ever hoped for.

“Pinky and I will stay!” Brain declared.

“Huzzah! Zort!” Pinky cheered.

The bellringer smiled at the mice. He glanced over to the sandglass that stood near his sleeping quarters. It was almost time to ring the compline.

“I-I must tend to the bells now,” Quasi nervously announced. “The compline is approaching.”

Pinky perked up at the news. “Oh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?” He turned to his smaller companion. “We get to hear the bells sing!”

Brain smiled at his friend, but then he grew concerned. “Of course, the bells would be much louder in person, which would do a number on our hearing.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I have some spare wine corks to pack your ears.” Quasi reassured the rodent.

The young man sprinted over to his bedroom. Moments later, he returned with six old wine corks resting in his right hand. He knelt down and offered them to the mice. He watched as Pinky and Brain graciously accepted the earplugs. Afterward, Quasi inserted the remaining two corks into his own ears.

“My mentor had advised me to pack my ears whenever I rang the bells,” Quasi explained. “I hope that these will suffice.”

Pinky and Brain placed the old corks into their big ears, securing their hearing as much as they could.

Pinky and Brain followed as the bellringer climbed up the ladder, positioning himself underneath one of the bells. The rodents settled on the hardwood floor near the ladder to get a good view of the evening performance.

The line of bells greeted Quasimodo, the gentle silver moonlight bouncing off of their brass coats. Over the years, Quasi developed a strong attachment to the bells. Ever since he was a young lad, he loved helping the bells sing their daily songs, and even gave each of them names. Little Sophia, Jean-Marie, Anne-Marie, Louise-Marie, and Big Marie. He enjoyed ringing the bells as he gave them their voices and in return, the bells would lift his spirits. The bells were just as much his friends as the gargoyles and the saints.

The bellringer’s heart swelled with joy as he approached Little Sophia. “Are you ready to sing once more, dear?” He sweetly inquired. His soft voice reverberated underneath the bells. Quasi confidently smiled, taking her answer as positive confirmation. “Then let’s get started.”

He pulled on the rope, which elicited a C. Feeling the rhythm, he swung over to the triplets and tended to their needs. The three sisters joined in the song as the harmony began to grow.

The mice gazed up at the man as he played his glorious song. Pinky swayed to the melody of the bells. Brain looked over to his shoulder, savoring his friend’s look of amazement and the joy radiating from his blue eyes. The smaller mouse then turned his attention over to the bellringer. The fact that he could ring the bells with great precision and care as to produce such rich harmonies was no small feat. Quasi was both an impressively strong individual and a talented musician.

Quasi landed from the beam with a thud. After straightening his posture as much as his body would allow, he wiped the small beads of sweat across his forehead.

“Bravo!” Brain politely clapped as he got up on both feet. “ You were simply magnificent! The soaring melodies of the bells were astounding in person.”

Quasi smiled as he shyly ran his hand through his red hair.

Pinky stood up and cheered. “Yay!” He applauded, eagerly clapping his paws together. “Oh, that was wonderful, Quasi! Narf! Next time, you should make the bells play ‘Chopsticks’!”

“Yes, Pinky, ‘Chopsticks’. That famous liturgical hymn that has been celebrated by the Catholic Church for centuries.” Brain sarcastically responded as he gestured with his hands. “It’s right up there in the pantheon of psalms alongside ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt’.”

“Oh, goody! That’s one of my favorites!” Pinky exclaimed before he burst into song. “John Jacob, Jingleheimer-”

But Brain swiftly bopped Pinky over the head, and the taller mouse laughed off the pain.

Quasi flinched at the sudden action. After years of watching the Parisian populace from the parapets, he knew that close friends would not physically hurt one another in such a way. “Brain, why would you do such a thing?” He chastised the smaller mouse.

“Believe me, Quasi, if you knew Pinky for as long as I have, you would do the same thing.” Brain dryly answered.

“Not to worry, I actually quite like the bops!” Pinky reassured. “I also enjoy doing this!” The taller mouse then sat on the ground and proceeded to shove his foot into his mouth.

Quasi cocked his head to the side, unsure how one would find pleasure in such unusual activities.

Brain groaned and pinched the bridge of his brows. “Stop it, Pinky. You’re embarrassing me!” The shorter mouse proceeded to pull on Pinky’s left limb, yanking the foot from his mouth.

Quasi shook his head as he fondly gazed at the mice. He looked over to the silver moon through the tower windows. It was getting late and he figured it was an opportune time to go to bed.

The bellringer walked over to the mice. “It’s getting late, and I think it would be best to get some rest.” He said gently as he knelt down and offered an open hand to them. The mice wordlessly accepted the invitation, walking over to his palm and taking a seat.

Pinky and Brain gazed at the humble sleeping quarters. There was a small hay-filled bed that was surrounded by soft red fabric that lined the walls and rejected stone statues, one of which was in the shape of a human arm that held two burning candles.

“Oh Brain, there’s more hay here than our cage at the lab! Zort!”

“Yes, all that’s missing is the discarded lab equipment and the scent of lead.” Brain remarked. The small mouse looked closely at the many statues. “Though I must admit, Quasi, that you have a rather eclectic taste when it comes to bedroom decor.”

The bellringer became alert when the mouse mentioned his name. “O-Oh! Yes, well, these statues were supposed to be displayed in the cathedral along with the other saints, but were discarded by the masons many years ago because of their imperfections.”

Brain studied the details of the statues. Many of them had visible flaws, but none were considered unworthy of attention. The smaller mouse jolted the moment Pinky laid his arm on top of his big head. Brain looked up to see Pinky looking at the statues with keen interest.

“If these are the saints, then how come they aren’t wearing any football helmets?” Pinky asked out loud.

Brain smacked his own head. “Pinky, be grateful that we’re inside a church. Otherwise, you would be in a world of pain.”

Quasi softly chuckled. “I-I’m not sure what football is, exactly, but I do know that this statue is supposed to depict Saint Stephen, who was the first martyr.”

The bellringer then turned his attention to a discarded statue of a young woman holding a veil. “And this is Saint Veronica. She was moved with compassion upon seeing Jesus carrying the cross that she lent him her veil so he could wipe his face. And when he returned the veil to her, an image of his face was miraculously captured on it.”

“Naaarf…” Pinky sighed, clearly spellbound by the story. Brain, however, was more fascinated by Quasi’s enthusiasm as he eagerly recounted the stories behind the statues.

Pinky looked around and noticed two statues, one of a man holding his head and another pierced by arrows. “And who are those guys?”

“The one holding his head is Aphrodisius.” Quasi explained. “He was a high priest who sheltered the Holy Family during their flight to Egypt. Later he became a disciple and the first Bishop of Belziers. He was later beheaded with his head kicked into a well. But the water gushed out and Aphrodisius picked up his head and carried it through the city.”

“You don’t say,” Brain remarked.

“And this is Saint Sebastian.” The bellringer continued. “He was a martyr during the Diocletianic Persecution of Christians. He was initially tied to a tree and shot with arrows, but he miraculously survived.”

Pinky clasped his paws together. “Aww, what a nice story.”

“Oh, I wasn’t finished yet.” Quasi gently interrupted. “Sebastian then went to Diocletian to warn him of his sin, but he was then clubbed to death.”

Pinky’s smile turned into a sorrowful frown. “Oh...well that’s not very nice.”

“I’m sorry,” the bellringer added sadly. Not wanting to end the conversation on a melancholic note, he glanced over to the statues of two fair young women holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes. One was adorned in a crown and held a Cross-topped staff while the other had long hair and held a scroll.

“But these statues have no tragic stories attached to them,” Quasi assured as he guided the mice over to the stone women. “The one holding the staff is Ecclesia and the one holding the scroll is Synagoga, and they’re meant to represent the Church and Synagogue.”

Pinky’s ears rose and grinned. “They look so pretty!” he praised. “And they’re in love!”

The bellringer gazed at the statues once more. He never took that perspective into consideration before. As he inspected the stone women staring at one another, he could sense the love stored in their eyes. It was certainly no different from the loving stares between the spouses he normally witnessed in the streets of Paris. Perhaps there could be a romantic connection between the two women.

Brain looked up to the bellringer. “Well, I’m impressed with your vast knowledge in regards to this particular subject, and your enthusiasm is quite endearing.”

Quasi smiled at the compliment as he guided the mice back towards the bed. He knelt down as he carefully lowered his hand. “I’m going to get dressed for bed.” He said as the mice hopped off of his hand and landed on the ground. “I’ll return in a moment.”

The bellringer then got back on his feet. He swiftly turned to the small bureau, where he retrieved his light blue nightgown.

When it was time for bed, Brain grabbed his satchel and retrieved two nightgowns. He handed Pinky his yellow nightshirt as well as his blue nightshirt.

“Thanks, Brain!” Pinky chirped. The taller mouse walked a few paces near the bed and began to change into his nightwear. He removed the tunic, revealing his soft ivory fur.

Brain gazed at his shirtless companion for mere moments before he retreated to a nearby beam. Once he was safely out of sight, Brain clutched his rapidly beating heart. After a moment, he chastised himself for daring to gawk at his friend in such a manner.

Shaking his head, Brain began to disrobe as well. He swiftly took off his tunic and dressed in his nightshirt before removing his hose. The mouse straightened out the wrinkles from his nightshirt and gathered his laundry.

Brain pondered on how to go about retrieving new clothes. Perhaps Quasi would be generous enough to donate any discarded rags that he and Pinky could fashion into tunics and hosiery. Though judging from how compassionate the bellringer was, he would find a way to accommodate an entire wardrobe for him and Pinky.

After gathering his old clothes, the mouse decided to peruse through the other contents in his satchel. The bag was filled with small jars of various fantastical items. He exhaled in relief, glad that they were not damaged during the journey to the cathedral. Brain had filled the satchel with the ingredients for his back-up plan for world domination. But with the mechanical dragon having backfired, he now had to ensure that his latest plan would be a tremendous success.

Soft footsteps could be heard as the mice turned their gaze over to Quasi, who was now dressed in his long-sleeve blue nightshirt, with the hem of his shirt reaching down near his ankles.

In the humble loft, Quasi rested on the makeshift mattress, while the mice gathered in a nearby pile of hay, covered in their blankets.

Pinky plopped down on his hay-bed. Waving his limbs side-to-side, he merrily giggled as he proceeded to make a lovely hay angel.

Brain stared at his peculiar companion with a certain fondness as he laid down in his makeshift bed. The mouse carefully observed surroundings. He immersed himself in the soft hay as he observed the flickering candlelight that bounced off of the fabric walls. He may not have fancy lab equipment, but he had the luxury of a comfortable abode.

“Quasi,” Brain began. He heard the bellringer’s soft hum, capturing his attention. The smaller mouse looked into the man’s gentle eyes and sighed. “I wish to thank you for taking Pinky and I into your home.”

Quasimodo gazed at the mice and smiled. “I’m also glad to have befriended you and Pinky.”

The bellringer approached the stone arm that held two burning candles. Blowing out the lights with one exhale, the den fell to darkness. He was careful not to step on the mice as he returned to his humble hay-filled mattress.

“Goodnight my friends,” Quasi spoke quietly.

“Goodnight,” Brain replied.

“Night! Narf!” Pinky cheerfully added.

Quasimodo laid down on his bed, resting on his side. He could not help but feel grateful for the mice’s presence. Smiling contentedly, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

In the belltower, Quasimodo sat at the table, reciting the passages from the Bible for his master, Frollo. The Minister of Justice, who was dressed in a flowing black robe and matching tricorne hat, keenly watched his ward read aloud the passage from Leviticus. 

“No man who has any defect may come near: no man who is blind or lame, disfigured or deformed; no man with a crippled foot or hand, or who is a hunchback or a dwarf, or who has any eye defect, or who has festering sores or damaged testicles. No descendant of Aaron the priest who has any defect is to come near to present the food offerings to the LORD. He has a defect; he must not come near to offer the food of his God. He may eat the holiest food of his God, as well as the holy food; yet because of his defect, he must not go near the curtain or approach the altar, and so desecrate my sanctuary. I am the Lord, who makes them holy.” 

“That is enough for today, dear boy,” Frollo confirmed as he stood up from his seat. 

Quasimodo nodded at his master, grateful that his reading was satisfactory. He then glanced over to the ray of light that cast into the dark belltower. 

“You better not be thinking of going out there, Quasimodo.” Frollo sternly warned as he approached the bellringer. 

“O-O-Of course not, master.” Quasi denied as his guardian approached him from behind. 

“You are only a monster.” Frollo coldly stated. “A monster who could never belong out there.” 

He dug his fingers into Quasimodo’s shoulders as he continued. “If you were to go out into the world, you would only be greeted with hatred and scorn.” 

Quasimodo closed his eyes. “The cathedral is your sanctuary and I am your only friend. You are to stay in here for all time.” 

The bellringer felt the cold pair of hands lift off of his shoulders. After taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. However, he was no longer in the belltower. 

Instead, he found himself standing in the nave of the cathedral facing two large doors. He could see the light spilling underneath the door frame. 

The bellringer was greatly tempted. He always wanted to venture into the outside world and live a normal life among other people. 

Quasi could work at a humble art stall in the streets, selling his goods to the public. People would either happily greet him or pay him no heed. He could shop at the vendors in the marketplace and strike up a conversation with the shop owners. He could even make friends with the other commoners! Perhaps he could even fall in love and start a family!

The light beckoned him to go through the doors and lead the life he always wanted to have. 

Filled with determination, Quasimodo carefully stepped toward the light. He wanted this more than anything. 

“You dare disobey my orders, Quasimodo?” The icy voice of his master sneered. 

“Master?” The young man asked worriedly as he scanned around the darkness in search of his guardian. 

But a pair of arms dressed in fine rings and flowing black fabric emerged from the checkered tiles.

Quasimodo stumbled backward when he felt a hand grip around his ankle from behind. He swiftly pulled his leg, freeing himself. Sprinting towards the doorway, his eyes focused on the inviting light. But a clenched hand jabbed at his shin, causing the young man to trip and collide with the tile floor. 

More arms appeared and proceeded to force Quasimodo down. One hand gripped his hair. Another hand slapped him across the face. The bellringer winced at the pain. He struggled to liberate himself, but more hands proceeded to pull him to the ground. A pair of hands captured him by the back of his tunic. Quasimodo roared as he tried to break free, but the fabric snapped, causing his shirt to fall from his frame. Additional hands secured his arms and legs and proceeded to pull him to the floor on his back. 

The bellringer felt the hands ripping his tunic and hose until they were reduced to rags that were scattered across the ground. The young man was left naked as the hands continued to pin him to the ice-cold floor. He then felt hands that tightened his wrists and ankles turn into iron cuffs chaining him to the floor. 

Quasimodo felt completely vulnerable. His eyes desperately scanned the nave for any sign of his stone companions. The saints! The gargoyles! Any one of his inanimate companions! But none were there. 

“You must never disobey me,” Frollo’s voice boomed throughout the nave. 

Sweat began to bead down Quasimodo’s forehead. Frollo was nowhere to be found, but the young man could feel his presence searing through his soul.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Master!” Quasimodo pleaded as tears began to spill from his eyes. 

“You dare indulge in even thinking of going to the outside world. And now you must be punished for your sins.” 

Quasimodo tried to break free from his chains but to no avail. “Please Master, let me go!” He begged. 

The bellringer closed his eyes, preparing to feel the wrath of his guardian. He only hoped that the pain would not linger. 

But an ear-piercing roar could be heard. Quasimodo opened his eyes to see that the battle cry stunned the authoritarian arms, causing them to retreat into the tile floor. A fierce gargoyle swooped in from above, as pieces of stone rained down. Quasimodo could only assume that the gargoyle heard his pleas and released themselves from their stone casing. 

The intimidating gargoyle had light-purple skin, sweeping long black hair and donned a tattered brown loincloth that was held together by a leather belt. The creature landed in front of the young man. Quasimodo gawked at the fearsome creature, who picked up the chain attached to his right hand. Without a word, the gargoyle ripped the chain in half. Quasi was able to freely move his right arm. 

The purple gargoyle approached him. Despite his hulking appearance, he stared at Quasimodo with concerned eyes. 

The gargoyle knelt beside the bellringer. “Lend me your hand, my friend.” He coaxed, his voice deep but gentle, as he offered his clawed hand. Biting his lip, Quasimodo obliged. He carefully placed his hand into the gargoyle’s grasp, who gently picked the lock with his sharp finger. Soon the cuff was unlocked, and the gargoyle tossed it aside. 

The bellringer felt the ground move, and he glanced to see four other gargoyles surrounding him. A red gargoyle with long white hair, a bald green gargoyle, and a bulky blue gargoyle stood by his right side while an older green gargoyle with white hair stood at his left. The intimidating creatures wordlessly worked to release Quasimodo from his chains. In mere moments, the bellringer was liberated. 

“I-I-I don’t understand.” The young man stammered as he gently cradled his right wrist with his left hand. 

“You were always very important to us, Quasimodo.” The purple gargoyle addressed, keeping his gaze into the young man’s eyes. The creature took out a long blue cloak from underneath his wing and handed it to the bellringer. Quasimodo breathed as he inspected the cloak. His eyes glanced down at his exposed modesty. Blushing profusely, he graciously accepted the cloak from the gargoyle and was quick to cover himself. 

“You always looked out for Notre Dame.” The lead gargoyle fondly explained as he lowered his wings, turning them into an elegant cape of his own. “Ringing the bells, studying the architecture, and keeping us gargoyles company. We only want to return the favor.” 

The gargoyle then extended an open hand to the bellringer. A wave of relief crashed over Quasimodo as he carefully placed his callused hand into the purple claw. The gargoyle gently placed his hand on the bellringer’s shoulder as he guided him up to his feet. 

Once he stood up, Quasimodo squeezed the gargoyle’s hand as he used his free hand to adjust the cloak around himself to conceal his bare, misshapen figure. Thankfully the cloak was long enough that the hem of the fabric brushed down to his shoes. 

He gazed at the gargoyle pack with grateful eyes. All of his formative years he spent watching over the city, conversing with the gargoyles as they watched Paris from above. The gargoyles were the easiest to get along with. They were frightening monsters, and he was told that he was only a monster, so he found solace among his hideous friends. From a young age, Quasi also learned that the gargoyles were crafted to protect the church by warding off malicious spirits. Perhaps the gargoyles had decided to engage in their given purpose of protecting Notre Dame. 

Quasimodo gazed at the gargoyle pack with grateful eyes. “Thank you,” The gargoyles smiled back at their dear friend. 

Suddenly, a large pair of arms crashed through the tile floor, towering over the bellringer and his stone brethren. Quasimodo stumbled back to the ground, laying on his back. He hastily adjusted his cloak to cover his lap. But the purple gargoyle stood in a protective stance, spreading out his wings to shield the bellringer from the malicious limbs. 

The purple gargoyle’s eyes began to glow as he let out a ferocious roar. The other gargoyles followed suit, forming a protective circle around him as they prepared to combat the disembodied arms. Quasimodo could only watch in astonishment. 

Then a bright golden light emerged from behind. The powerful rays of the light caused the arms to disintegrate into dust. 

Quasimodo stared in amazement at what occurred. He swiftly turned around to discover a row of hooded figures in glowing silver robes stepping forward from the powerful glow. 

Sparkling lights soon coated the young man’s body. Quasimodo watched in astonishment as he became fully clad in a bright white tunic, a gold belt and brown hose. He gently pinched the soft, glittering fabric between his fingers and studied the fantastical attire. The brightly dressed bellringer glanced over at the cloak that draped across his lap. Retrieving the cloak that was kindly given to him by his gargoyle friend, he carefully wrapped it around his shoulders. 

The robed figures then took off their hoods, revealing themselves to be the rest of his stone companions. Aprhodisius carefully took off his head and cradled it into his arms. The rest of the saints gazed at the bellringer with compassionate eyes. Ecclesia and Synagoga held hands as they smiled at him. A group of young women with golden hair and eyes also looked on with gentleness. Quasimodo had a hard time trying to decipher who these women were until he noticed that three of them were triplets. 

“The bells?” He pondered out loud. 

The tallest of the group revealed herself to be an elderly woman with rainbow irises and long grey hair. 

Quasimodo felt two pairs of clawed hands gently guiding him up on his feet. He looked to see a red gargoyle with long white hair and a bald green gargoyle. “Thank you.” Quasi softly told them. The red gargoyle gave a hearty pat on the back while the green gargoyle happily nodded. 

Quasimodo gazed at the rest of his companions that he made over the years. The ones he gave life to and the ones who dared looked back at him with only love in their eyes. “Thank you all,” The bellringer gratefully croaked. Tears blurred his vision and began to pour down his cheeks. “I-I-I don’t know what I did to deserve such kindness, o-o-or how I could ever repay you, but-” 

But the leader carefully pressed her fingertips to his lips, causing the bellringer to cease his stammering. 

“You do not owe us anything, Quasimodo.” The tall woman soothed, her voice as melodious as the bells. She knelt down on one knee and gently grabbed his hand. With her left hand, she retrieved a handkerchief and silently offered it to the bellringer. Quasi gratefully accepted it as he wiped away the tears from his face. 

The tall woman knelt down and gently grabbed his hands. “You have done so much for me, my son.” She said before giving Quasimodo a tender kiss on his cheek. He instinctively rubbed his hand over where he had been kissed, astonished that one would even dare to give him such affection. 

“But you were not meant to remain within the cathedral forever.” The woman solemnly added. 

The doors of the church opened, casting more light inside the church. Quasimodo turned around to see the alluring light from the outside world, hearing the comforting sounds of provincial life. He could simply walk through those doors and be able to live out his one desire. 

However, the bellringer began to feel a sense of dread. What if this is all too good to be true?

“But what if master was right?” He doubted quietly. 

“Do not allow the words of your guardian to cloud your judgment, my friend.” The lead gargoyle argued in a booming voice. “While there may be darkness that lurks in the world, there is goodness out there as well.” 

The gargoyle placed his hand on Quasimodo’s right shoulder, prompting him to look up. “Not everyone would be so willing to accept people like us,” he gently told the bellringer. “but there are those who will acknowledge your worth as a man and proudly regard you as a friend.” 

Quasimodo smiled gratefully as he gently placed his left hand on top of the gargoyle’s hand, who smiled back with sweet understanding. 

The bellringer turned to the luminous doorway. He looked back at the saints and the gargoyles, who gazed at him with great compassion and empathy. 

“Go on, my son.” The elderly woman encouraged him. “You have served God well. Now He wants you to go out and be part of the world He created.” 

The bellringer nodded and turned to face the open doors. Adjusting the cloak and straightening out the sleeves on his white tunic, he decided to press forward. He shuffled across the tile floors, closer to the light. At the brink of the doorway, he drew in a deep breath and exhaled. He wondered what the world had in store for him, and what he could provide in return. 

Quasimodo confidently walked through the doors, eager to be part of the city he loved. 

As dawn approached, Quasimodo roused from his slumber. With a quiet yawn, he looked over to see his guests contentedly asleep.

The bellringer glanced down at the slumbering rodents. Pinky was contentedly curled up in a ball as he gently held Brain in a loving embrace. Quasi heard a faint whistling sound coming from the smaller mouse, which he found to be quite adorable. 

As much as he wanted to relish the endearing way his friends slept, a new day was dawning and there was much work to be done. 

Quasi quietly gathered his freshly clean tunic and hose that was neatly folded on top of the discarded statue head near his sleeping quarters. Gathering his blue leather shoes, he set off to begin his morning routine. 

Moments later, Brain fluttered his eyes open, carefully assessing his surroundings. He was not cooped up in a cage in Acme Apothecaries, dreading the moment the scientists would take him and Pinky out of their prison and subject them to a round of experiments. Instead, he was in the chilly, but cozy belltower. 

The mouse also felt two arms wrapped around him along with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat drumming in his ear. Brain figured that Pinky must have pulled him close during his sleep, for whatever odd reason. Despite this, the smaller mouse allowed himself to stay in Pinky’s protective and comforting hold for a little while longer. 

Brain released a gentle sigh of contentment. Smacking his lips, he closed his eyes and indulged himself in the warm embrace of his dear friend. 

After some time, the mouse opened his eyes once more. As much as he wanted to remain in Pinky’s comfortable hold, Brain decided it was time to start his day. The smaller mouse slowly got up, careful not to disturb Pinky’s slumber. He quietly crept across the cold floorboards over to his neatly folded clothes and began to prepare for the day. 

The small mouse discarded his light blue sleeping gown and quietly slipped into his hosiery. He made sure that his jagged tail made it through the small hole before putting on his blue tunic. The mouse then retrieved his small leather belt and secured his tunic.

Finally dressed, Brain decided to explore the belltower to get accustomed to his new domain.  Just as he exited the bedroom, he caught a glimpse of the half-dressed bellringer, who only had his brown hose on. There were many lined scars across the bellringer’s back. The mouse clapped his hand around his mouth in shock. After stumbling backward, the mouse deduced that Quasi must have been whipped as a punishment of sorts. But the bellringer did not seem to be the type to engage in any criminal activity to deserve such physical torment. Brain was not surprised by the cruelty of humans. Being a victim of animal testing allowed him to witness the callous nature of most humans. But the mouse felt a pang of despair in his soul for the poor, innocent man.

“Who would hurt this man in such a barbaric manner?” Brain pondered as his ears sadly drooped. 

Brain was so consumed with shock and pity that he had barely heard Pinky skip along, humming a chipper tune. The taller mouse, already clad in his tunic and hose, looked at his friend with gleaming blue eyes. 

“Hey, Brain!” Pinky greeted. “Say, what are you looking at?” The tall mouse’s gaze drifted over to the bellringer, who was about to change into his tunic. Pinky’s smile faltered the moment he laid eyes on his friend’s scarred back. 

Not wanting Pinky to cause a scene, Brain gripped the mouse’s snout and dragged him back to the lounge. “Have you no decency, Pinky?” He hissed. 

Pinky’s eyes began to water. “Poit! But why does Quasi have so many scars?” He cried in a muffled voice. “Why the thought of someone hurting our friend makes my heart all sad and weepy.” 

Brain’s ears drooped upon hearing the compassion in Pinky’s voice. He gently released his hold over his friend’s snout and decided to gently grab his hands. 

“Likewise, Pinky.” Brain sadly agreed, gently caressing Pinky’s hand with his thumb. “We both know what we saw, and we must never let Quasi know that we are aware of his scars. Do you understand?” 

Pinky nodded, letting out a small whimper. 

“Good.” Brain concluded, deciding it was best to drop the discussion there. 

“Now to move on to a more jubilant topic, I already have my next plan for world conquest right in this parchment!” Brain announced, taking out a scroll from his satchel and unfurling it before Pinky.

“Zort! What is that?” Pinky questioned as he stared at the paper. 

“A mind-control potion!” Brain exclaimed. “Whoever drinks this concoction will be put under a powerful trance, and obey any order that is given. I plan to use this potion on the King of France. Once the monarch is susceptible to follow any commands, I will order him to hand over the crown to me, and I will rise to power and rule over France. Afterward, I will use my sovereign powers to transform the country into a formidable empire and take over the world!” 

“Egad! Brilliant, Brain!” Pinky cheered. “But no, no, wait,” The taller mouse added as he wore a worrisome frown. “But most of the ingredients look awfully expensive, and we don’t have any money!” 

“Already accounted for, Pinky.” Brain agreed. “Fortunately, I already acquired half of the ingredients in my satchel: The hair of an alicorn, the fur of a gryphon, the toenail of a red dragon, a pair of newt eyes, four frog legs, the ear wax of a human.” He cringed at the last ingredient. “Additionally, I extracted the feathers of three french hens, two turtle doves-” 

“And a partridge in a pear tree!” Pinky boisterously sang. 

“Thank you for that particularly annoying rendition of the popular Christmas carol.” Brain sardonically acknowledged. 

“You’re welcome Brain!” Pinky said sweetly, batting his eyelashes. 

Brain turned his attention over to the scroll. “But all that’s left are parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme, cauliflower, goat hairs, and a bottle of Paul Masson champagne, for that french excellence!” The mouse added as he curled his fingers and kissed them. “The rest of the items would have to be purchased in the market or, in more drastic measures, absconded. We need to figure out a way to earn funds for our endeavor.” 

Just then, a pair of footsteps softly approached the den. The mice turned to see the bellringer, all dressed up in green tunic, brown hose, and blue leather shoes, and ready to start the day. “Good morning.” He softly greeted the mice with a bright smile. 

The mice were pleased to see their new friend. “Good morning, Quasi! Narf!” Pinky eagerly replied. 

“A shining good morning to you too, my friend.” Brain added sincerely. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Strangely enough, I think I did?” Quasi answered honestly. “Well, a-at least in the second half of my dream I had…” But as he talked about it, he thought that it would be best to not delve into his dream at the moment. “But that’s not important.” 

“That’s good to hear!” Pinky replied. “I had a very nice dream where I got to cuddle a soft but grumpy gremlin who had a nice, big chubby head!” However, his smile turned into a sad frown. “But then he ran away before I woke up.”

Brain felt his cheeks heat up as he heard Pinky describe his dream. He hoped that the gremlin was not reminiscent of him in any way, shape, or form. 

“Well, that’s too bad.” The smaller mouse said bluntly, trying to avoid the topic entirely.

“I’m about to toll the morning bells,” He announced. “So it’s best to plug your ears now.” 

The mice returned to the den to retrieve the wine corks given. After packing their ears, the bells began to sound throughout the tower. The vibration from the bells caused the ground to shake and caused the mice to stumble about. Pinky was about to fall over when Brain miraculously caught him in his arms. 

Pinky looked into Brain’s soft pink eyes and clasped his paws together. “My hero!” He swooned affectionately. 

Brain began to feel his face heat up again. Not wanting to bask in any awkward tension with his dearest friend, Brain unceremoniously dropped Pinky. The taller mouse landed on the floor with a thud and gave a hearty laugh for good measure. 

The bells continued to ring. Even though the wine corks secured their sensitive ears, the mice could hear the soaring melodies of the morning song. 

Quasi landed on the floor on both feet as the bells echoed their song from the tower. The bellringer went over to the breadbasket, gathering a large number of bread crumbs into his left hand. After collecting as many crumbs as he could, he approached the mice, kneeling down and offering them a ride on his right hand. 

“There’s something I want to show you,” He said excitedly. 

Pinky and Brain were equally curious to see what the bellringer had in store for them. They hopped on his right hand, and the bellringer got onto his feet. 

The bellringer gently held the mice as he limped through the open door, guiding them over to the balcony that overlooked the city.

The mice were in awe of the glorious view of Paris. The buildings and homes looked so small from where they stood. Brain was amazed that he could see the rolling green pastures of farmland right on the outskirts of the city. He doubted that the King of France had a magnificent view like this from his castle. 

Pinky hopped off of Quasi’s hand and gazed down at the Parisians. 

“Egad, I never knew that there were so many mice-sized people roaming throughout the city!” 

Brain rolled his eyes while he heard the melodic chuckling from the bellringer. “Pinky, those are people-sized people. They only appear smaller from this perspective.” The intelligent mouse informed his companion. 

“Oh! Well, there you are then.” Pinky replied. Brain gave an irritated snort. 

Quasi smiled at the mice as he spread out the bread crumbs along the stone rail. It wasn’t long before a flock of pigeons arrived for the morning breakfast buffet, startling Brain in the process. The birds greedily ate their morning fill, including three oddly colored birds; a squinty-eyed blue pigeon, a grey pigeon with a friendly smile, and a gruff purple pigeon with heterochromia. 

“Don’t worry Brain, the birds aren’t as mean as they appear,” Quasi assured the smaller mouse as he gently patted his head. 

However, the purple pigeon began squawking at his grey companion, who put up his wings in self-defense. But the aggressive pigeon started attacking him. 

“Perhaps I’ve spoken too soon,” Quasi said with a tired sigh as he moved to intervene. With a steady hand, he grabbed the purple bird. 

“Come on, Pesto, how many times do I have to tell you: no fighting.” Quasi sternly reprimanded. “This is a church, not an alleyway!” 

The blue pigeon proceeded to chuckle but stopped the moment Quasi laid eyes on him. “This is no laughing matter, Bobby.” 

The bellringer then turned his attention back to Pesto. “Now I’m gonna let go, but you have to promise not to hurt Squit while you’re on the balcony, got it?” 

Pesto rolled his eyes and let out a defeated coo. 

“That’s a good bird,” Quasi said as he released the purple pigeon. The bellringer then looked over at poor Squit, who was still flapping the dust off of him. With a gentle hand, he patted the bird. 

“You’re gonna be alright, buddy,” Quasi assured the grey pigeon. 

Brain gazed at the compassionate bellringer. Just as he finished patting the pigeon, a pair of doves landed on his misshapen shoulders and a third dove landed in front of him. Quasi offered his hand to the dove, who immediately perched itself on the man’s finger. The sight of Quasi surrounded by his feathered brethren was an image reminiscent of a fairy tale princess.

Brain gave a wry smile before walking over to accompany Pinky. The taller mouse was perched on the balcony rail, merrily dangling his legs above the city square. 

“Lovely view out here, isn’t it? Narf!” Pinky mentioned as he continued to gaze at the city streets, admiring the normal activities of the townspeople. 

“Yes, it’s a rather impressive sight for sure.” Brain agreed as he took a seat next to Pinky. 

In the mouth of a fat gargoyle, a baby bird awoke. Quasimodo heard the cheerful chirps of the small bird and smiled. “Good morning,” The young man greeted. He held out his hand, and the little blue bird eagerly hopped on. 

The mice turned their heads to see Quasi happily chatting with the baby bird. 

“Do you think you’re up for flying, little guy?” The bellringer merrily asked as he brought the bird away from the railing, walking a few paces near the door. 

The bird chirped confidently as he nodded his head. The mice turned their attention away from the city view to the flight test. 

“Alright, show me what you got!” Quasi encouraged as he lifted his hands. 

The baby bird closed his eyes, flapping his wings as hard as he could. However, he only had enough energy to lift himself a couple of inches in the air for a few seconds before landing on the bellringer’s callused hands. Once the bird got up, he sadly chirped in defeat.

“Hey, there’s no need to fret,” Quasi soothed the baby bird, gently patting its tender head with his thumb. “In fact, I’ve raised dozens and dozens of birds, and many of them also had some trouble learning to fly. But after some time, they managed to fly, and I’m confident that with some practice, you’ll be able to fly too.” 

The comforting words managed to lift the baby bird’s spirits, as he happily chirped at the bellringer, who carried him back to the balcony rail. 

Pinky’s jumbo-sized heart was moved by Quasi’s gentle interactions with the young bird. “Awww.” He cooed while clasping his hands together. 

Then the blue pigeon waddled over to the bellringer, who was seemingly calling to the baby bluebird. The young man looked at the baby bird and clearly understood that he wanted to socialize with his elders. 

“Go on, little one.” Quasi gently ushered the baby bird with his index finger. “Go have fun with your friends.” 

The baby bird chirped as he nuzzled the bellringer’s hand once more before joining the flock. The blue pigeon respectfully nodded at Quasi as he guided the baby bird to his other avian cohorts. The birds happily mingled as they strutted across the stone rail, well on their way to doing whatever it is that birds do.

Brain was certainly captivated by the way Quasi connected with the birds, even treating them with kindness and respect. Qualities that the scientists and alchemists employed by Acme Apothecaries clearly lacked. So it was rather surprising to see a human be so gentle and personable with other animals. 

“You certainly have a way with birds.” Brain complimented his friend. 

“They certainly make for good company,” Quasi casually replied. “Now, there’s something else that I want to show you two.” 

“Egad, is it pancakes?” Pinky happily guessed. “Please, let it be pancakes!”

“Sadly it’s not, Pinky,” Quasi said as the mice seated themselves on his hand. “But I think that you and Brain might enjoy what I have in store.” 

The bellringer guided the mice into the bell tower, over to his table that was covered with a white cloth. Quasi gently placed the mice on a wooden stool. He then eagerly pulled away the cloth to reveal a wooden model of the city. 

Pinky and Brain gazed at the intricate scale model of Paris with wide eyes. The table was filled with carefully painted buildings as well as intricately crafted figures of civilians, animals, and carts. 

“Naaarf.” Pinky was awed as he gazed at the scale-model cathedral that towered over him. 

“You made this miniature metropolis by yourself?” Brain inquired as he pointed to the city. 

“Yes, I did,” Quasi answered, allowing himself to feel proud of his artwork. He gently picked up the mice and lowered them onto the table so they could explore the wooden city. “I’ve been making wooden carvings of people and animals for years. But I decided to expand on my artistic horizons by working on buildings, and I eventually made a model of Paris.” 

Pinky immediately ran towards the model sheep. 

“Look, Brain! I’m tending to the sheep!” He picked up one of the sheep figures and shouted. “Woof, woof, woof!” before laughing enthusiastically. Brain shook his head out of pity. His friend did not properly remember the calls of each barn animal despite declaring “Old McDonald Had a Farm” as one of his favorite ditties. 

Brain walked around the model city, admiring the artistry of each carefully crafted building and figurine. The buildings were meticulously painted to look weathered, much like the actual buildings in the square. It was as if he was transported to a city made for a mouse. 

“This is quite impressive work you have on display, Quasi.” Brain complimented the bellringer. “I’ve never seen such quality craftsmanship or attention to detail before.”

The bellringer shyly rubbed the back of his head. Frollo almost never complimented his artwork and he didn’t know how to take such praise from his new friend. 

“Thank you, Brain,” He replied. “I managed to pick up on some details after observing the city from above.” 

“Well, you certainly have an eye for detail, my artistically talented friend.” Brain added. 

“If you like these, I’ve made other figures over the years.” The bellringer said as he got up and quickly went to the closet. Taking out a crate, he brought it over to his humble workshop. 

“I’ve mostly made figures based on the various people, animals, and buildings around the city. But I also did some experimentation and carved figures of the saints after studying the various statues and stained glass windows around the church.” 

“Stained glass?” Pinky inquired. “Oh dear, I bet that must be difficult to clean out!”

Quasi chuckled and playfully shook his head. “No Pinky, stained glass windows aren’t stained with dirt, but with different colored glass used to form pictures. And when the sunlight shines through, they light up the church in a bath of rich colors.” 

“Naaarf,” Pinky awed with wide eyes. “Oh, that sounds wonderful!” 

“I-I could show you some of the stained glass windows in the cathedral this afternoon,” Quasi suggested. “B-but we would have to be discreet about it.”

“Discreet?” Brain asked. 

“Because I’m not supposed to go into the nave during the daylight hours,” Quasi answered. “I’m supposed to stay up in the bell tower during the day.” 

“And why is that?” Brain wanted to inquire the bellringer. 

Pinky observed the wooden food stall, admiring the carefully crafted croissants. 

“Do you have any money, Brain?” Pinky pleaded. “I want to buy some croissants from the baker.”

“Pinky, those croissants are made from wood.” Brain spat. 

“But Brain, they look so good!” Pinky whined. “Why I’d spend about five dollars on even just one croissant! Zort!” 

The smaller mouse gazed at his companion, who was admiring the wooden baked goods. But he did not entirely blame his friend for wanting to buy a wooden figure made from an expertly skilled artist. 

Suddenly, Brain’s eyes widened with joy as a bright idea emerged in his large head. 

“Pinky, that’s brilliant!” Brain exclaimed. He swiftly yanked Pinky by the arm and turned his attention to the bellringer. “Could you give me and my companion a moment to speak in private?” 

“Of course,” Quasi answered as he got up from his stool. “Can I get you two any leftovers for breakfast?” 

“Certainly.” Brain answered, while Pinky eagerly nodded his head in agreement. 

Once the bellringer left for the kitchen, Brain brought Pinky closer to him and whispered, “Are you pondering what I’m pondering?” 

“I think so, Brain,” Pinky said as he tapped his chin. “But how could a gargoyle lose a game of poker to a bird?” 

Brain pushed Pinky straight into a small group of figurines, tumbling down like bowling pins. The taller mouse guffawed as he got back on his feet. 

“No Pinky, we will convince our new friend to set up a stall to sell his artwork to the general public!” The smaller mouse declared as he grabbed Pinky by the collar of his tunic. “Once the masses recognize our friend for his incredible artistic talents, they will purchase his marvelous figurines and unwittingly provide us the necessary funds to acquire the other ingredients for our potion! And if everything works out, our plan may yet succeed!” 

“Egad, brilliant Brain!” Pinky awed.

Brain released his grip on Pinky’s collar, causing the taller mouse to drop back to the other toppled figures. Once Quasi returned with a plate filled with grapes and cheese. Pinky’s face perked up at the sight of a balanced breakfast and he eagerly raced towards the plate. He grabbed a purple grape and greedily munched on the fruit. Brain casually strolled over by Pinky and grabbed a small bit of cheddar and ate his fill. Afterward, the eloquent mouse waltzed over to the middle of the model city and approached the bell ringer.

“So Quasi, have you ever thought about capitalizing on your hobby?” Brain asked nonchalantly, looking as innocent as possible. “Because you could make a decent living off of selling your marvelous figurines.” 

The bellringer looked over at the model city before looking at the mouse. “I-I never really took that into consideration.”

Brain walked over to the figure of a midwife, placed his paw above its head as he moved it about. “Perhaps you could open up a stall in the square and peddle off your finely crafted figurines for reasonable prices.” He explained as he gazed back at the young man. 

“I-I couldn’t,” Quasi argued. 

Brain clicked his tongue and shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Well, that’s a shame, my friend. You create such beautiful, detailed works of art and you don’t want to share your glorious works with the world.” 

The bellringer scrunched his face at the remark. “Well, i-i-it’s not that I want to keep my figures to myself. I’ve made this city because I could never be a part of the world.” 

“Never be a part of the world?” Brain repeated. “What, pray tell, do you mean by that?” Even Pinky looked at the young man with a concerned expression. 

The bellringer released a heavy sigh as he stared forlornly at the miniature city. “All my life, I’ve been inside the cathedral, protected from the outside world, because of my deformities.” Quasi wistfully explained as he propped his head in his right hand. He used his left hand to fiddle with his figurine counterpart, which was isolated in the miniature cathedral. “Even though I could never go out there, I always watched the people from above, studying their day-to-day activities a-and how they form strong bonds with one another. So these figurines and model buildings are the only way I could be a part of the city I love.”

Brain and Pinky’s ears slowly drooped as he listened to Quasi. Brain especially felt humbled by the bellringer’s desire. He never considered the notion that he was forbidden to leave the cathedral. To add insult to injury, the bellringer’s one desire to lead a normal life and gain acceptance from others felt like an impossible wish for the poor young man. The mouse felt a warm paw on his shoulder and looked over at Pinky, who sadly stared at the bellringer. 

“If only I could spend at least one day out there…” Quasi sighed forlornly. 

“Well, what’s stopping you?” Brain asked. 

“My master, Frollo,” Quasi answered, picking up a small figure of a man clad in black and placing him in the middle of the populated square. 

“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Pinky piped up. “He so tiny!” 

Pinky proved his point by going over to the Frollo figure and pushing it to the ground. “See? Problem solved!” 

Quasi let out a disbelieving laugh. “If only it was that easy, Pinky.” He then proceeded to pick up the Frollo figure and placed it near the scale model church. “He told me how the world is a cruel place, and that a monster such as myself could never fit in.”

“He told you that?” Brain inquired, as his hand balled into a fist of rage. 

“Of course. I am a monster born of sin, and that I am a living crime against humanity who would only be met with hatred and scorn from other men.” Quasi explained, placing his left hand on the deformed side, sliding it down to prove his point. “And because I’m a hideous monster, he told me that I would be better off staying in the bell tower.”

“Well that’s not true!” Pinky indignantly declared. Brain was surprised by his usually dim-witted companion’s boldness. 

“What?” Quasi exhaled. 

“You’re no monster at all!” Pinky assured. “Why, monsters are usually fifty-feet high, and have huge tails and scales, and rampage through cities, leaving destruction wherever they go! You’ve shown nothing but kindness to me and my best friend!”

“Pinky’s right,” Brain spoke up as he walked over to his best friend’s side. “Would a monster make such beautiful music, create marvelous works of art, or show mercy to even the lowliest of animals such as ourselves?”

Quasi stared at the mice in disbelief. All of his life, he held Frollo’s stern, but truthful words to such a high standard that the thought of someone else challenging them seemed so surprising. But Quasi took a time to ponder. Someone who was truly monstrous would hold no regard to other beings, whether they be people or animals. 

“I don’t suppose so…” the bellringer agreed. 

“Quasi, listen to me.” Brain interjected. “You deserve to live a fulfilling and happy life as much as any other person!” 

The bellringer knew that the mice were looking out for him. But there was another problem that needed to be addressed. “But what would happen if people mock or revile me for the way I look?”

“Who cares what people think about you!” Brain hollered. “From my experiences, the world can be a cold and cruel place populated with feeble-minded nitwits who believe in preposterous superstitions. But despite these awful aspects, there is beauty and goodness out there-”

“Like ponies and croissants and the pretty flowers by the meadow! Troz!” Pinky interrupted. 

Instead of bopping Pinky on the head, Brain simply nodded in agreement before glancing at the bellringer. “And it would be a shame if you missed out on the positive attributes of the world because of your misguided guardian.” 

Quasimodo was touched by the mice’s moving words. All his life, he was told that he was nothing more than a monster and that the world had nothing in store for someone like him. But now these two rodents were encouraging him to experience the beauty of the world. 

“You two may be right,” Quasi said as he carefully placed the two mice into his palm before walking towards the balcony door. “Maybe I can find my place outside of the cathedral,”

“Yes!” Brain cheered. 

“A-And maybe I could make a living selling my figurines for people to enjoy.” 

“Huzzah!” Pinky exclaimed. 

Brain smiled as he approached the bellringer. “A wise decision, my friend.” The mouse clapped his hands together. “Now, we could make preparations to set up an artist’s stall near the square to sell your figurines for affordable prices, and the only thing I request is ten percent of the profits.” 

“How come?” Quasi inquired. 

“Because I, too, want to pursue my dream. My dream of global conquest!” Brain proudly admitted. “Pinky and I need the money to purchase the necessary ingredients for our latest plan to take over France.” 

“And this plan hopefully doesn’t involve exploding dragons?” Quasi teased. 

“No.” Brain replied with a frown, even gritting his teeth when he heard Pinky giggling. “If you must know, my latest plan involves manipulating the King to transfer his sovereign powers over to me through a mind-control potion.” 

The smaller mouse then marched up to Quasimodo. “You and I are surprisingly similar people.” Brain began his persuasion. “We both have desires that we want to see come to fruition, and we have the ability to bolster each other. Allow us to help you find your place in the world, and you can help me become the supreme potentate of the world. By collaborating, we’ll both get what we want!” 

The opportunistic mouse extended his paw towards the young man. “Do we have a deal?” 

“I’m not sure how I could run a business-”

“There’s no need to fret over that, Quasi.” Brain assured. “Pinky and I have had many business ventures in the past and we’re more than happy to show you the ropes.” 

“But Brain, Quasi already knows that the ropes are attached to the bells!” Pinky piped up as he pointed his hand towards the belfry. “See?” He added as if he had stated the obvious. 

Brain curled his free hand into a fist and swiftly bopped Pinky on the head. The taller mouse simply laughed off the pain as he saw the stars that swirled his vision. 

Quasi looked at Pinky with great concern. “Pinky, are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m right as rain. Narf!” Pinky reassured the young man with a hearty laugh.

“Regardless,” Brain stated, getting back on track. “Pinky and I are more than happy to guide you in the matters of business etiquette and effective advertising. You are already immensely talented in your craft. Now all you have to do is learn to become an approachable businessman.” 

Quasi stared at the big-headed mouse. “And you believe that I can make it out there?”

“Yes!” Brain confidently affirmed with a grin. The mouse lifted an outreached paw. “So what do you say, partner?” 

Quasimodo started to become hopeful. If the mice believed in him, then he figured that he should take a leap of faith. 

“It’s a deal,” Quasi answered eagerly. He gently offered his pointer finger to the mouse, who firmly shook it. 

“Excellent!” Brain exclaimed. “Now, the first order of running a sustainable business is-” 

But the sound of a door swinging open alerted the bellringer. “Oh no,” 

“Oh no, what?” Brain asked. 

“Frollo’s coming.” The bellringer whispered as he led them back into the loft and into his sleeping quarters. “Quick, you two need to hide. I can’t let my master suspect that I have company over when there usually is none!” 

Pinky and Brain looked around for a suitable place to hide. The smaller mouse noticed the straw bed and made his move. Swiftly tugging Pinky’s paw, Brain led his companion over to the sleeping quarters and dove straight into the straw. sprinted towards the straw bed, hiding from view. 

Grateful that the mice were hidden, Quasi moved to retrieve the broom that leaned by one of the support beams. He busily swept the loft, both in an effort to appear busy and to tidy up the place before his guardian would arrive. 

The mice poked through the hay to see what their new friend’s ‘master’ was like. 

“Good morning, Quasimodo.” An intimidating voice boomed through the bell tower. Just then, a tall thin man donned a black robe and black tricorn hat emerged. 

The bellringer felt a chill course through his crooked spine as he heard that voice address him. Quasi quickly placed the broom back near the beam and knelt down before the man, bowing his head to further display his gratitude. “G-Good m-m-morning, master…” 

The Judge sneered at the young man. “Who were you just talking to?”

Quasi’s eyes widened. He felt bad for having to lie to his master, but he needed to keep his new friends safe from his wrath. So he came up with a believable fib.

“O-Oh! I was just talking with my friends...sir.” he lied as he gestured to the discarded statues. 

“Ah yes, your friends,” Frollo said with great annoyance as he walked over to one of the statues, wrapping his fist against the head of St. Stephen. “And what did your friends say to you?”

Quasi’s cheeks burned with shame. Almost every morning visit, he had to go through the whole rigmarole of confirming to his master that his friends were made of stone and that stone could not talk. Did his master really need to remind him that every time that he was not privileged enough to have friends who were human?

“N-No. They didn’t say anything to me because they’re made of stone, a-and stone can’t talk.” He timidly answered, keeping his stare downcast on the wooden floor. 

Quasi then felt a jeweled hand grip his chin and was forced to make eye contact with his guardian. He cringed whenever his master would touch him. It felt utterly degrading. 

“Such a clever lad you are.” Frollo drawled before removing his hand from the young man’s face. 

Brain and Pinky watched the exchange with concerned eyes. From underneath the hay, the mice felt their hearts go out to the poor young man. Every ounce of love and excitement he exuded was snuffed out like a candle. Pinky’s eyes began to water, fearing for Quasi as well as the safety of Brain and himself. 

“It’s not fair!” Pinky thought. “Quasi deserves to have a guardian who was nice and caring.” 

Brain, meanwhile, seethed at the Minister of Justice. Judging from the power he held over Quasi, he came to the conclusion that Frollo must have whipped the poor man to assert his authority and keep the bellringer under his thumb. 

“Now, prepare the table for your morning lessons,” Frollo commanded. 

“A-As you wish, sir.” Quasi obeyed. He quickly entered the kitchen, gathering the appropriate plates and utensils for his meal. He also picked up two cups. A tall silver cup for his master, and a short, humble earthenware cup for himself. He hastily returned and set up the table for Frollo. 

From the hay-filled mattress, Brain narrowed his eyes as Quasi handed the more exquisite silverware to Frollo while he was only saddled utensils fit for a commoner, which concluded his suspicions of the master-servant power dynamic. 

“Shall we review your alphabet today?” The judge inquired as he placed the woven basket onto the table.

“O-O-Oh yes, master,” Quasi hastily answered, eying the basket that contained the meal that he would have to earn. “I-I would like that very much.” 

“Very well,” Frollo confirmed. “A?”

“A…abomination…” Quasi dejectedly answered. 

Pinky and Brain felt their hearts sink, helpless to intervene. 

“B?”

“Blasphemy.”

“C?

“Contrition,”

“D?” 

“Damnation.”

Pinky let out a shocked gasp at the horrific language. But Brain was quick to shut him up by slapping his hand across his mouth. 

“E?”

“Eternal Damnation”

“F?”

“F-Forgiveness.” 

Brain sneered at the judge, who nonchalantly continued to prompt his ward to parrot this wretched version of the alphabet; Hypocricy, Indignation, Judgement, King, Lamentation, Monster. The eloquent mouse managed to contain his fury as he heard the last word of the alphabet: Zealot. 

The Judge gave his ward a slimy smile. “Excellent work, my boy.” He feigned praise as he took the cloth off of the basket to reveal his reward. Two loaves of bread, cooked sausage links, a block of cheese, and a bottle of red wine. 

Quasi sighed in relief. His master had raised him to earn his food through his rigorous studies. Everything from his Bible studies to his language lessons in Latin and Greek. There had been a few instances in which Frollo had denied him his meal, which only prompted the bellringer to study harder to appease him. Quasi clasped his hands together and bowed his head once more. “I-I’m grateful for your generosity, master.” 

“I expect nothing but the best from you, my dear Quasimodo.” Frollo replied with phony fondness. 

The bellringer inspected Frollo as he poured wine into his wooden goblet. Once he received his wine, Quasi graciously thanked him before eating his breakfast. Frollo had been very hard to please. While the Archdeacon and many of the fellow churchmen treated him quite compassionately, Frollo, the very man who had taken him in and raised him, did not dole his affection so generously. And although Quasi did his best to earn his master’s love, from completing his studies to successfully fulfilling his duties as the bellringer, praise from Frollo was quite rare. 

The judge wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Now Quasimodo, I must inform you that I will be out of the city for approximately two weeks.” The stern judge announced. “I have an important meeting with the king to discuss my duties as Minister of Justice. Afterward, I must make my annual trip to visit my fief, and hopefully, my drunken imbecile of a brother would not have caused any additional property damage.” 

Quasi snickered at the last comment but froze when Frollo stared at him with judgemental eyes. 

“Do you find my familial issues amusing, Quasimodo?” Frollo sternly interrogated. 

“Oh, no, no,” Quasi hastily denied. “I-I-I don’t find any of that humorous.” The bellringer bowed his head in shame. “Forgive my foolishness, master.” 

He heard his master rise from his seat. Quasi closed his eyes, fearing another hard slap across the face. From beneath the hay, the mice stared in anticipation as they expected the worst from the Judge.

Instead, Frollo forcefully lifted his chin so he could get a better look at him.“You are forgiven, my boy.” Frollo assured him. Quasi felt the tremendous weight lifted from his shoulders even though he also felt the sharp pain of Frollo’s fingernails digging into his chin. 

“I’ve already informed the Archdeacon of this and he will be able to provide your meals while I’m gone.” The judge explained. 

The bellringer nodded. Other than Frollo, the only other person who raised him was the Archdeacon. But while Quasi knew that he was a busy man (even Frollo told him that he had more important things to do), the church elder usually made time for him. Whether it would be brief visits in the belltower or lending him books from the cathedral’s library. Hopefully, he could confide to the Archdeacon during Frollo’s time away from Paris. 

“And while I’m away,” he added sternly. “I have a series of assignments for you to complete to keep your mind busy during my absence and to avoid delving into any licentious thoughts or activities.” 

“Oh! N-N-No sir. I-I wouldn’t dare do such a thing.” Quasi blurted out. 

The Judge got up and approached the bookshelf. He grabbed a few books and heaved them onto the table. “You will read passages from Leviticus and Revelations, and write a detailed report on the significance of these readings. In addition, you need to polish your Latin and Greek. So you must write an essay on the overarching themes of ‘Beowulf’ and ‘The Illiad’. And I decided to humor your little hobby by purchasing more wood and paint.”

Quasi stared at the bag filled with new art supplies. He clasped his hands together and respectfully bowed his head. “Thank you, master.” 

“Do not disappoint me, Quasimodo.” The judge groused. 

“O-Oh, I-I-I won’t let you down, master.” Quasi nervously assured. Standing up from his seat, he clasped his hands together and bowed before his surrogate father. “I-I’ll complete every task that you have given.” 

“Good,” Frollo stated curtly and turned around. 

Quasimdo slowly lifted his head and watched Frollo descend the staircase. The judge then swiftly exited the belltower, slamming the door shut. The sudden bang echoed throughout the tower, causing the pigeons that were perched on the beams to flee. 

Quasi waited another minute until he was certain that his guardian began his flight down the tower steps. He let out a huge sigh of relief, thankful that his new friends were safe from his master’s wrath. 

“You can come out now,” Quasi addressed the mice. “He won’t be coming back anytime soon.” 

Pinky and the Brain emerged from the sleeping quarters and approached their friend. After witnessing that distressing ordeal, they wanted nothing more than to protect Quasi from that horrid judge. 

“Well, he’s certainly in the running for father of the year.” Brain sarcastically remarked. 

“What a horrible, horrible man! Narf!” Pinky shouted indignantly. “How do you even put up with that guy?” 

“Because he saved my life,” Quasi answered, causing the mice to stare at him with great befuddlement. 

“I was abandoned as a child, and he took me in when no one else would.” The young man sadly explained. 

Brain crossed his arms, finding it hard to believe that such a cruel and manipulative man would willingly rescue a misshapen waif out of the kindness of his own heart. Surely there had to be some ulterior motive he had for adopting the bellringer. 

“Judging from his attitude, I doubt it.” Brain replied flatly. 

“Brain,” Pinky softly scolded before turning his attention back to the bellringer. “Well, he may have saved you, but that doesn’t mean that he should treat you so cruelly.” The tall mouse adamantly stated. 

Quasi stared at Pinky. He couldn’t come up with a proper response for how he was feeling. 

“But now that he’s gone, we should give your morning routine a brand new makeover!” Pinky cheered. 

“What?” Quasi asked in bewilderment. 

“Now, the first thing we should do is fix your alphabet!” Pinky exclaimed. “I didn’t know what half of the words mean, but they sound icky and awful. So we’ll make you a prettier alphabet instead! Like A can be Appreciate! And K can be Ballet!”  

The bellringer looked at his lanky friend and smiled. “I appreciate your concern, Pinky.” 

“As much as I detest admitting this, you might be onto something, Pinky.” Brain added. “I will also make an effort to enhance your education with my advanced intellect. In your spare time, I will offer your classes on Astronomy, Physics, Biology, Gender Studies, and Philosophy! And I’ll also supervise Pinky as he makes some necessary adjustments to your alphabet.”  

He carefully scooped up the mice into the palm of his hands and placed them on top of the table. 

“So your guardian is leaving town, this serendipitous news has provided us with the window of opportunity for your business to thrive.” Brain stated. 

The bellringer gazed at the mouse. “You don’t mean-” 

“Why not?” Brain continued. “Frollo won’t be around to stop you and the two-week time period will be more than enough to get your shop up and running.” 

“And you can follow your dream of going out there without getting into trouble! Zort!” Pinky added. 

“Listen to me, Quasi. After seeing how wretched your ‘Master’ is, I can confidently say that you are most deserving of a better life. Now the world may be cruel at times, but there are people out there who can see you for the gentle and marvelous human being that you are and accept you for who you are.” 

Quasi blinked. “You really mean that?” 

“Of course.” Brain confirmed confidently. 

“You’re a good friend in my book, Quasi.” Pinky gently added. 

Quasi was sincerely moved by their words. Perhaps his dream from last night was a sign of sorts. 

“You have helped me and Pinky, and now we want to help you.” Brain told the bellringer. 

“Because that’s what friends do!” Pinky cheerfully added. 

Quasi smiled at the mice. Any doubts that he had of following his dream had dissipated for he had two friends who were willing to help him out. 

“I suppose it’s worth a try.” The bellringer affirmed. 

Pinky and Brain cheered. 

“Now come!” Brain eagerly commanded his companions. “We have plenty of work to do.” 

Chapter Text

Brain and Pinky were eager to teach Quasimodo the ways of shopkeeping. And with Frollo being out of town for the next two weeks, the mice were determined to encourage the young bellringer to live out his dream of going out into the world (and Brain was equally determined to conquer all of France). 

But before Quasi could make his proper debut, Brain needed to mold the young man into a charismatic salesman and a more confident version of himself. 

The belltower’s loft was quickly transformed into a makeshift classroom as Brain proceeded to educate Quasi in the matters of economics, budgeting, and effective marketing. Quasi remained attentive during each lecture. He absorbed the information doled out by the big-headed mouse as he furiously took notes with his right hand. Pinky, on the other hand, was busy making a paper bird from a spare piece of paper. 

Aware of how alert and attentive his pupil was, Brain decided to surprise Quasi with a pop quiz. 

“So, now that we’ve covered the basic principles of business and economics, I’m going to give you a short test.” 

“Aww…” Pinky groaned in defeat. 

The taller mouse’s protest did not go unnoticed by Brain, who busily jotted down the questions on a piece of scroll paper. The eloquent mouse looked up at his goofy companion with knit brows. “Pinky, you’re not taking the test. Quasi is.” Brain remarked, his voice dripping with aggravation. 

“Oh, hurrah!” Pinky cheered as he tossed his paper creation in the air. 

Quasi swallowed his spit. He dreaded tests. Frollo normally gave him assignments on whatever topic he had covered, whether it be certain passages from the Bible, mathematics, or Latin. He hated the feeling of disappointing his master by even giving a single wrong answer.

The young man shifted his gaze over to his right hand, which trembled slightly. Although he was ambidextrous, he had a tendency to favor his left hand. But Frollo had reminded him from a young age that much like his red hair, the use of his left hand was a sign of the devil. Another sign that he was only a monster. 

“Excuse me, Brain, forgive me if what I’m about to ask you sounds rather silly.” Quasi hesitantly began. 

Brain cocked his head to the side at his pupil’s declaration. “Quasi, you should know that in my classroom, there is no such thing as a stupid question,” he reassured. 

At that moment, Pinky thrusted his hand in the air and eagerly waved it to get his friend’s attention. “Ooh, Brain!” 

“Yes, Pinky?” Brain drawled, preparing for the worst. 

“How many people are in The Three Caballeros?” The taller mouse asked innocently. 

Brain frowned, knitting his brows together. “I stand corrected.” The mouse then turned his attention back to his student. “You were saying?” 

Quasi bashfully looked down at his desk, trying to construct his question. “Oh! Well, I-I was wondering i-if it would be alright if I used my left hand to take the test?” 

“Of course, Quasi.” Brain assured. “What makes you think that you can’t?” 

“Frollo,” Quasi blurted out. “He said that people who are left-handed are-” But he silenced the moment Brain lifted his right paw. 

“Don’t even finish that sentence Quasi. In fact, I don’t even want to hear that name for the next two weeks.” Brain commanded. “Pinky and I accept you for who you are, unlike your ignorant boob of a guardian.” 

“Brain, language!” Pinky chastised as he indignantly placed his paws on his hips. 

“Yes, Pinky. I wouldn’t want to warp the mind of our dear friend who is already well-versed in curse words if that ‘alphabet’ recitation was anything to go by.” Brain sarcastically replied, remembering how Frollo’s decision to include ‘damnation’ twice in the alphabet was a rather idiotic move. 

The smaller mouse then handed a rolled-up scroll to his pupil. “Now, this quiz covers what you already learned.” Brain explained as Quasi carefully unfurled his assignment. “But judging by how attentive you have been during my lecture, this test should be a cakewalk.” 

Pinky then clutched his tummy as he hummed. “Sounds delicious, Brain! Though I wish I had brought my hiking boots..” 

Brain felt his cheeks heat up. How could someone so charming be so stupid? 

“Pinky, please stop talking.” Brain exhaled in exasperation. The mouse then turned his attention over to his student, who already set his jar of ink on his left side. “And you may begin your test.”

Quasi nodded as he grabbed his feather quill pen. Having read the first question, he dipped the tip of the pen into the ink jar and proceeded to jot down his answer. 

As the bellringer continued to write on his test, Brain studied the young man’s features. Quasi’s green eyes were laser-focused on the words written on the scroll. Pinky silently sat down by his right side, choosing to lie down on his stomach. With his paws propping up his head, Pinky playfully kicked his feet in the air as he watched Quasi jot down his answers. 

Brain’s stare shifted over to Pinky, who playfully swished his tail while curiously watching the bellringer complete his quiz. Butterflies began to flutter inside him. The intelligent mouse shook his head in denial. Pinky had been his trusted assistant and best friend for many years. How is it that Brain had been developing feelings for him that were beyond platonic? 

The intellect shook his head. He needed to get his mind off of this strange series of developments. 

He glanced over to see Quasi diligently answering his test questions. Brain clasped his paws together and smiled proudly at his pupil. He then noticed his sundial watch poking out from under his sleeve and decided that enough time has passed. 

“Alright, Quasi. You may put your quill down now.” Brain declared. 

Quasi hastily placed the feather back into the ink jar. As his diminutive instructor strolled over to his scroll, the young man drummed his fingers across the table in anticipation. 

“I-I hope my answers are satisfactory.” Quasi stammered. However, he felt two small arms comforting his right hand. He looked down to see Pinky gazing back at him with bright blue eyes and an encouraging smile. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Brain replied as his pink eyes began to scan across the page. 

Test Objective: Define the Following Terms

1. Economy: An area of the production, distribution and trade, as well as consumption of goods and services by different agents. 
2. Marketing: The action or business of promoting and selling products or services, including market research and advertising. 
3. Production: The process of combining various material inputs and immaterial inputs (plans or knowledge) in order to make something for consumption (output). 
4. Supply and Demand: The relationship between the quantity of a commodity that producers wish to sell at various prices and the quantity that consumers wish to buy
5. Income: Money received for work or through investments

“By Chaucer’s beard, you got every question right!” Brain announced. 

Quasi sighed in relief. Though the mice assured him that they regard him as a friend, it still felt good to have passed the test. 

“Hoorah!” Pinky cheered. He reached into his pocket and retrieved an origami swan. “Poit! I’m sorry that I don’t have any gold stars to give out, but I hope that this works too. 

“Now that you have successfully mastered the basics, it is time to move on to the next step in our lesson.” Brain announced. “And for this lesson, I need you to turn that desk over there into a vendor stall.” 

The bellringer nodded and got to work. He brought over a spare desk from the discarded statues to create his mock-art stall. After carefully placing the table cloth, he hurried to gather the left-over wood carvings he could put on display. 

A spare table was brought over to the loft so that Quasi could set up his mock-art stall, placing his precious wood carvings on display.

Meanwhile, Brain retrieved his green-and-purple polka-dotted bowties for him and Pinky to wear. They only wore them on their business-related global domination schemes, so it only seemed appropriate to wear them while guiding their eager pupil through the realm of business. 

“Here, Pinky,” Brain said as he pushed the bowtie into Pinky’s hands before swiftly putting his on. 

As Pinky tried to get his bowtie on, he glanced over at Brain, who effortlessly secured his bowtie around his neck. Pinky felt his cheeks heat up at the sight of his best friend. Oh, Brain always looked so adorable with his bowtie on! He mused dreamily. But what good of a friend was he if Brain didn’t know how good he looked! 

“Egad Brain, you look so dapper with that bowtie on! Troz!” Pinky merrily complimented. 

Brain could feel his cheeks beginning to heat up. After hearing the kind-hearted praise, the megalomaniac looked over to see Pinky still struggling to put his bowtie on. 

“Oh please, let me help you!” Brain commanded as he grabbed Pinky’s shoulders, stooping him to his level. He felt the taller mouse’s bulbous nose brush up against his forehead, but he shoved aside his feelings in favor of fixing his friend’s bowtie. 

Pinky’s eyes widened as Brain deft hands fixed the polka-dotted bowtie. He would never be this close to Brain before unless the smaller mouse had a good grip over his snout or grabbed him by the chest. But there was something different about the way Brain closed the distance between them this time. Instead of insulting him or bopping him (not that he minded the bops), Brain was laser-focused on correctly preparing the bowtie. The taller mouse felt all soft and gooshy being this close to him. 

After tightening the bow tie, Brain smiled in contentment. “There!” However, his smile melted upon being reminded of how close he was to Pinky and proceeded to freeze like a deer in torchlight. 

But Pinky smiled back at him. “Thanks Brain!” 

“You’re welcome…” Brain exhaled, gently placing his hands on Pinky’s shoulders and pushing him back up. He was at a loss for words, but he couldn’t simply abandon the conversation right then and there. 

“And, uh…” The megalomaniacs rubbed his left arm with his hand, trying to find the proper words but realizing something he forgot to say earlier. “Thank you for the compliment, Pinky.” 

Brain shoved his hands into his hose pockets and tried to play it cool as he trotted away. But it wasn’t long until he heard that chipper cockney accent once more. “Oh, you’re welcome Brain!” Pinky cheered. 

The mice hopped down from the table and sprinted over to the other side of the loft, where Quasi was putting the finishing touches on his makeshift stall. All of his figures were meticulously lined up across the table, from the merry peasants to the revered saints. The bellringer gazed at the handcrafted denizens. 

From a young age, probably around six or seven, Quasi had memorized the people in the city streets. People he wanted to befriend but knew well that he never could. However, he had found a discarded carving knife in the cupboard and some small blocks of wood by the abandoned statues. Quasi was already inspired by the gargoyles and the saints that guarded the cathedral and began to ponder. Perhaps he could make a small statue of the Parisians much like how the sculptors crafted his stone companions. Despite leaving a couple of small cuts on his fingertips, the young lad managed to create his first figurine. Later that day, his mentor Jean found him with a humble wooden figure and an old rag wrapped around his right hand. As Quasi’s wounds were tended to, he was pleased to hear how ecstatic and impressed the elder bellringer was with his first creation. Jean, too, was pleased to learn that his apprentice had found a new hobby. The following day, Jean and the Archdeacon gifted Quasi with some proper carving tools, more blocks of wood, brushes, and small jars of paint. The young bellringer learned how to properly handle his carving tools with Jean’s tutelage. But it wasn’t long until Quasi’s creativity took flight. He applied great attention to detail to each figure, from the distinct facial figures to their body types. He even managed to use old wood shavings and pieces of straw for the villagers’ hair. 

Even Frollo was well aware of his hobby, though he initially did not give Quasi any praise or criticism of his artwork. But once Quasi became more confident with his craft, he was determined to please his master. During his eighth year, Quasi spend a good amount of time perfecting the wooden model of his father figure. He even made sure to apply the right amount of paint on his hat, making sure that the pattern was pristine. 

Quasimodo remembered the very evening he presented Frollo with his figurine counterpart. 

“H-H-Here, sir…” Quasi timidly announced as Frollo swiped the figure from his grasp. 

The judge carefully inspected the gift with an ambiguous expression on his face. Quasi clasped his hands together in anticipation. Did he make his master proud? Or did he simply make him angry?

But Frollo placed the figure on the table next to the half-painted wooden model of Notre Dame. 

“Impressive work, Quasimodo.” Frollo stated with what Quasi heard was a faint amount of affection. 

The bellringer could feel the tears of joy beginning to emerge from his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away before they could fall. 

“Now, let us begin our reading of the Book of Job.” Frollo commanded as he seated himself near the table. 

“O-Of course, m-master.” Quasi replied as he rushed to retrieve the Bible from the bookshelf, trying to focus on his task as he held onto his master’s praise like a lifeline. Any form of love that Frollo gave to a monster like himself was good enough.  

He suddenly felt a soft hand tugging near his ankle. Quasi looked down to see the mice now dressed in strange bows. 

“And what, exactly, are you guys wearing?” the bellringer asked as he knelt to scoop the mice up. 

“Oh, these old things,” Brain casually replied. “Why, they’re bowties.”

“They might not be fashionable now, but I bet all types of people will be wearing them eventually,” Pinky added. “Why, some people might wear bowties in their hair!” 

Brain raised his brow. “Now you’re just being ridiculous, Pinky.” 

“So if you want to run a successful business, you must learn the proper social etiquette of making sales and establish the power dynamic between the proprietor and the customer.” Brain explained. “In order to achieve this, we are going to engage in a little role-playing activity.” 

“Oh, goodie! I’ll go fetch the twenty-sided dice and some character sheets!” Pinky exclaimed. However, Brain yanked his companion by the ear, dragging him back to his spot. 

“Not that type of role play, you moronic mouse!” Brain insulted. He pressed his nose against Pinky’s snout, locking onto his tranquil blue eyes. The small megalomaniac immediately released his grip over Pinky and hastily turned his attention back to the bellringer. “Quasi, you are going to be yourself.” 

“That seems simple enough,” Quasi replied. 

“I wasn’t finished yet, my friend.” Brain interrupted. “You are going to be yourself in the part of the amiable art vendor.” 

“This is going to be a challenge.” The redheaded man dejectedly sighed. “I’ve never talked to another human being outside of the church before.” 

“No need to fret.” Brain soothed. “This is just a practice run so that you can hone your social skills, which will allow you to thrive as a businessman and become a productive member of society. And with that said,  while Pinky and myself are going to play the two different kinds of customers you would come across.” 

“Aww, but I wanted to play Moth Man,” Pinky whined. 

“Moth Man?” Brain questioned indignantly. 

“Yes, Moth Man. Everyone’s favorite costumed vigilante! Zort!” Pinky answered confidently. 

Brain rolled his eyes and sighed. “Perhaps another time, Pinky. But for right now, you shall play the part of Maurice, the friendly customer.” 

“Oh, how wonderful!” Pinky cheered as he clasped his paws together. 

“Yes, now Quasi, when the customer approaches your shop, be sure to politely greet them and ensure that they find what they’re looking for and answer any questions that they may ask of you. Now does that sound clear?” 

“O-Of course,” Quasi answered. 

“Good, now let us begin our little scene.” Brain announced as he pushed Pinky over to the makeshift stall. 

Quasi looked at Pinky and began to play his part to the best of his ability. “Good morning sir.” 

“Hello, I am Maurice, the friendly customer,” Pinky replied in a confused tone. “Wait, a minute, I thought I was Pinky?” 

Brain slapped his head and groaned. “Forget it. Just be yourself Pinky, but pretend that you’re buying one of the figurines.” 

Pinky’s eyes widened. “Oh, now I get it. Narf!” The mouse replied, now understanding what he had to do. The mouse eagerly climbed up the table leg. After pushing himself up on the tabletop, he marveled at all of the figurines on display. 

“Oh, these look very nice.” The taller mouse complimented. 

“That’s very sweet of you Pinky,” Quasi replied. “Is there anything that catches your fancy?”

Pinky pondered as he perused through the precious figurines. “I’ll buy…” he drawled until he laid eyes on a figure of the baker. “This one!” 

“A fine choice,” Quasi confirmed. He looked over to the sheet of paper, which spelled out the prices for his figurines. “Then your total is five deniers.” 

Pinky happily dug his hand into his pocket, retrieving a handful of imaginary money. The mouse happily trotted over to the young shopkeeper. “Here you go!” 

“Thank you very much, a-and have a wonderful day!” Quasi happily told the mouse. 

“Thanks, you too!” Pinky replied with a wave.

Brain clapped. “Excellent work, my friend. Your friendly attitude and cheerful disposition are certain to attract customers.” 

Quasi smiled brightly upon receiving the compliment. “Thank you, Brain.” 

“Now, you must know that not every customer interaction will be a pleasant one. Which is why I must prepare you for when you will have to confront irate patrons.” Brain mentioned. “And for this portion of the exercise, I shall play the part of Gaston: the boorish and irascible customer who will not hesitate to give the vendor a hard time.” 

The smaller mouse ran a hand through his hair, sprucing up his bangs to have a more scruffy look. Satisfied with his makeover, he turned his attention over to his student. “Are you ready?” 

“I suppose so,” Quasi answered reluctantly. 

Brain stomped over to the table, wearing a grumpy frown. 

“Good day, sir.” Quasi politely greeted the customer. 

“What say you, knave?” Brain barked, acting as dramatic as possible. He turned his attention over to the figurines. “You dare sell these pathetic blocks of wood. Ha! I think that they belong in the garbage, eh!” 

Quasi frowned forlornly. He could withstand being insulted for his looks, which was something out of his control. But it was painful to hear such barraging remarks hurled at his artwork, something he put a lot of time and care into crafting. 

“I-I worked incredibly hard on those.” Quasi shyly defended. 

“So?” Brain snapped. 

Quasi was at a loss of what to do. “So...So I think you should…” The bellringer gave a defeated sigh as he dropped his head into his folded arms. 

Brain’s ears flattened at the sight of the poor man. Years of putting up with the abuse from his so-called guardian appeared to have broken his gentle spirit and reduced him to a mere doormat. But the mouse refused to let his friend give in so easily. He must inspire Quasi to become more assertive and bolster his self-esteem. 

The mouse decided to break character and approach the bellringer. “Quasi, you have the makings of a friendly and approachable shopkeeper, but you have to assert yourself when dealing with confrontation.” 

“But I’m not sure how.” Quasi bemoaned. 

“Well, one way to go about unruly customers is to” Brain began, until he felt Pinky’s finger pressed up against his mouth. 

“Not to worry, darling, I’ve got this,” Pinky assured him before lowering his hand. Brain pressed his fingers against his mouth while trying to process what had occurred. 

Pinky clapped his paws as he walked up to the bellringer. “When you’re dealing with a no-good, very grumpy meanie, all you have to do is point your finger at them and say ‘Hey! I don’t like your tone, mistah!’” 

“A-And you’re sure that it’ll work.” 

“Absolutely! Narf!” Pinky replied. 

Brain rolled his eyes. “Very well, I suppose we can pick up where we left off.” The smaller mouse marched over to where he last stood, puffing his chest to get back into character. 

Pinky nodded at the mice. “Aaand, Action!” 

Brain glared at Quasi. “You call yourself an artist?” 

Quasi stared at the mouse for a little while longer, trying to muster the confidence to be more assertive. “H-Hey!” He half-shouted with a stern frown, trying his best to emulate Pinky’s instructions. “I don’t like your tone, mistah!” 

A second later, his face lit up again as he turned toward Pinky. “How did I do?” He eagerly asked the taller mouse. 

“Oh, you were amazing, Quasi! There was so much passion in your performance!” Pinky praised. 

Brain released an exasperated sigh all while slapping his face and shaking his head. 

Pinky immediately pulled Brain into a side hug. “I thought that went really well, Brain!” 

The shorter mouse let out an exasperated sigh before untying his bow tie and tossing it to the side. “Perhaps we should take a break.” Brain suggested. 

Quasi could read the disappointment in Brain’s face. “So you thought I should’ve been more assertive, don’t you?” 

Brain stared back at the young man. “It’s a quality that needs to be improved upon, but I can guarantee that you’ll refine your social skills in due time.” 

“I-I appreciate the honesty,” Quasi admitted as he rubbed the right sleeve of his tunic. 

“Hey Quasi, could you show us the pretty stained-glass windows please?!” Pinky pleaded with glimmering blue eyes. 

Quasimodo stared at the taller mouse. Part of him knew that going down in the nave during daylight hours when it was accessible to worshippers would not end well for him. But the gentleness from Pinky’s eyes compelled him to confront his doubts. 

“Alright Pinky, I’ll give you and Brain a tour of the cathedral.” He surrendered. 

“Yay!!!” Pinky cheered as he scooped Brain into a tight hug, causing the smaller mouse to furiously kick his small feet in the air. “Oh, we are going to have such a fun time! Narf!” 

The bellringer rushed over to the den, where he picked up a long navy blue hooded cloak from the statue’s head. Securing his shield around his shoulders he made his way back to the mice. 

Brain looked at him incredulously. He refused to believe that any sane person would fall for such a flimsy disguise. “Is that cloak really necessary?” the mouse inquired. 

“Look, I don’t want to cause a stir in the nave.” Quasi firmly defended as he adjusted his hood. “If anyone even looks at my face, I’m certain that they’ll either flee in terror or start a riot, and I don’t want to take that chance.” 

Brain was taken aback by how adamant the bellringer was. Perhaps all those years of being told that he was a monster impacted his self-worth. The smaller mouse sighed. “Very well, but rest assured, if anything were to happen Pinky and I will remain by your side.” 

Quasi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Y-You really mean that?” 

“Of course,” Brain confirmed. 

“You are our good friend,” Pinky added with a confident nod. 

The bellringer gazed at the mice for a moment. Despite their short stature, they were determined to stand up for him. 

Quasi smiled sweetly at the mice as he knelled down and offered his hand to them. “Thank you, my friends,” he said gratefully. 

Pinky happily grabbed Brain’s hand before rushing over to the young man’s palm. “Oh, this is going to be fun-fun, silly-willy!” he cheered. 

“Fun-fun, silly-willy?” Quasi repeated with a quizzical expression on his face. 

“Do forgive Pinky’s simple, if not admittedly endearing vernacular,” Brain began. “That’s just a silly phrase he likes to say every now and again.” 

After the brief ascent down the winding steps, Quasi carefully entered the second story of the nave, looking out at the dozens of parishioners in the pews. Pinky had his sights on the colorful windows. 

“Egad, they’re so beautiful…” The taller mouse sighed. 

“Yes, they are,” Quasi agreed with a gentle sigh. “The entire cathedral was designed as a liber pauperum .” 

Brain’s ears perked up at the Latin phrase. “Ah, the poor person’s book.” 

“That’s right, Brain. Notre Dame is filled with many colorful stained glass windows and sculptures to vividly illustrate biblical stories for the masses.” Quasi explained. 

The mice stared in wonder at the glittering images of the saints decorating each window. Brain was certainly impressed by the level of detail in each window. The mouse caught a quick glimpse of Pinky, his blue eyes sparkling in amazement. It was fairly easy to please Pinky, but the sight of his friend gazing in amazement never failed to endear Brain. 

Meanwhile, Quasi focused his attention on the mice. Growing up in the cathedral, he was so used to being surrounded by such beauty and splendor. Things that he could never measure up to be. But showcasing his home to his good friends brought him such profound happiness. 

“So, would you two like to get a closer look?” Quasi asked. 

“Yes!” the mice answered in near unison. 

“Good, because we’re just at the beginning of our tour!” Quasi replied as he let go of the column and returned to the doorway. 

After a quick descent down the stairs, The group entered the main floor. Quasi adjusted the hood to conceal his misshapen face as he remained in the shadows. 

Pinky had his sights set on the Rose window, whose colorful lights splashed across the checkered tiled floor. 

The taller mouse hopped off of the bellringer’s shoulder and eagerly ran towards the rainbow lights. 

“Pinky!” Brain barked at his companion, but the bellringer pressed his index finger against his lips. 

“Please don’t make a scene.” Quasi quietly reminded the mouse before lowering his finger. “And besides, Pinky looks so happy out there.” 

Brain gazed at Pinky who spun around, immersing himself in the colorful lights. He noticed how his blue eyes glistened with joy. It was truly an adorable sight. Brain allowed himself to smile at Pinky’s happiness. While the world could be cruel at times, it was people like Pinky who brought upon great beauty and wonderment that made life worth living. 

Pinky spun around as he admired the beautiful lights from the window. But he came to the realization that the best things in life deserved to be shared with others. The tall mouse turned around on his heels and spotted his friends within the shadows. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for them to come over. His two closest friends deserved to have some fun too. 

The cheerful mouse spun around and waved at his friends, inviting them to enjoy the colorful window with him.

“A rat!” A high-pitched voice shrieked. “There’s a rat in the church!” 

Pinky looked over to see two finely dressed noble people. The woman wore a purple dress and hid her hair in a tight bun while the man wore a blue outfit with golden buttons and a black hat. 

The taller mouse became offended by the woman’s comment. “But I’m not a rat! I’m a mouse-” 

But the nobleman squished Pinky with his black boot before he had the chance to finish his sentence. 

Brain and Quasi gasped at the horrific sight. How could someone treat this pleasant, innocent soul so cruelly? 

Without a hesitation, Quasi emerged from the shadows. Brain held his grip on the blue cloak as the bellringer sprinted over to the pool of colorful light [ in the hopes of tending to Pinky’s aid]. The hood quickly fell over his head, exposing his face. But the bellringer had his sights set on Pinky, hoping that he could tend to his needs. The noble couple gasped the moment they laid eyes on Quasi. The bellringer ignored the terrified reaction as knelt down to pick up an injured Pinky. 

“Pinky, are you alright?” Quasi asked, his voice laced with concern. 

“Pinky, please speak to us!” Brain desperately pleaded. 

“Naaarrfff...” Pinky dizzily replied, trying his best to focus on his friends. 

However, a myriad of voices arose as a large crowd of spectators circled in on the trio. Quasimodo eyes widened in horror as he gazed at the frightened faces of the other church attendees. 

“The stories about the monster were true!” 

“It’s the creature from the belltower!” 

“What an abomination!” 

“He’s hideous!” 

Quasi wanted to flee, but his body was frozen like stone. He was so used to hiding within the shadows. But now having been caught under the glimmering light of the rose window and surrounded by several spectators, he felt utterly exposed. His heartbeat thumped hard against his chest. The onlookers continued to gawk and revile him as a monster. Left with no other option, Quasi pressed his left hand against his face as he shrunk into himself. 

Pinky gazed up at the bellringer, his compassionate eyes brimmed with tears. “Now, now, i-it’s okay. Quasi, everything’s gonna be fine-” But as he got up, pain rang out in his right arm, causing him to wince. 

Brain’s heart was moved with empathy for the young man. He did not deserve to be barraged with insults or be treated as something less than human. Gritting his teeth, the mouse balled his hands into fists as he hopped down and approached the growing crowd. 

“You should all be ashamed of yourselves!” Brain barked at the bystanders. “How dare you treat this young man so coldly!” 

The crowd began to grow quiet as the mouse continued to scold them.

“Quasi is not a monster, as you dare call him.” Brain continued. “He is a kind and gentle soul who only wanted to tend to the needs of an injured mouse, and you have the gall to mock him! Well, I will not stand for this despicable behavior, especially in a church of all places!” 

The crowd began to guiltily mutter amongst themselves. 

“And since I’m on the subject, Quasi is also a member of this church, as he rings the bells so beautifully and he has every right to roam in the cathedral as much as you people!”

Quasi gazed at Brain, astonished that he would stand up for him. When the bold mouse glanced backward, the bellringer smiled gratefully. Brain noted the gentleness that glowed from Quasi’s green eyes, and he smiled back with a nod. 

Pinky propped himself up and started to applaud. “You tell ‘em, Brain! Narf!” 

“Quiet, Pinky!” Brain chastised his friend. 

“Now what seems to be the trouble here?” A strong voice resonated throughout the nave. 

Suddenly, a pair of footsteps echoed across the tile floor. The bellringer and the mice stared at the elderly man dressed in white robes and a red cap. 

Quasimodo’s eyes widened at the sight of the esteemed clergyman. The bellringer respectfully bowed his head. “A-A-Archdeacon!” he proclaimed. 

“It’s good to see you too, my boy.” The Archdeacon fondly replied as he offered his hand. Quasi hastily accepted, placing his hand into the elder’s and pulling himself up from the ground. 

The Archdeacon sternly stared at the onlookers. “Now, as you all probably know, Quasimodo is a loyal servant of the house of God.” he explained. “So, instead of passing judgments onto others, I would suggest respecting your neighbors in addition to respecting the sanctity of the church.”

The once spiteful parishioners were now filled with guilt. Some of them muttered apologies while many others shuffled over to the pews to pray for forgiveness. 

After the humbled crowd dispersed, the Archdeacon focused his attention on the bellringer and the two mice. 

“Thank you for intervening, sir,” Quasi said gratefully. 

“You’re most certainly welcome, Quasimodo.” The Archdeacon replied with a gentle smile. 

“Though I must admit, I’m pleasantly surprised that you decided to come down to the nave at this hour.” 

“Oh! I-I was just giving my friends a tour of the cathedral.” Quasi explained. “They wanted to get a view of the stained glass windows.” 

“Poit! I’m still feeling a bit bruised, but it was worth it!” Pinky happily added. 

The Archdeacon smiled. “Why don’t you and your friends join me in my office.” 

Pinky suddenly became nervous. “Poit! Are we in trouble?” 

“No, no.” He assured the mouse, motioning the trio to follow him. 

The bellringer and the mice were invited inside the Archdeacon’s office. Quasi sat on a wooden chair while the mice were seated on the table while the Archdeacon prepared a small meal for his guests. 

“I was initially going to come up to the belltower to give you your lunch, but your presence in the nave is a nice change of pace.” 

The elder placed two wooden plates each filled with three pieces of bread and cheese. Quasi noted the small jar of jam placed next to his plate. Afterward, the Archdeacon put two matching goblets on the table and proceeded to pour red wine into each cup. 

“So, I see you made some new friends, Quasimodo.” 

“Yes, this is Pinky and Brain.” Quasi introduced. 

“Hello!” Pinky boisterously greeted. 

Brain nodded. “Quasi granted my partner and me sanctuary last night, and he even offered us a place to stay in the belltower.” 

The Archdeacon smiled. “I’m proud of you Quasimodo.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Quasi modestly replied as he fiddled with his hands. 

“I mean it," the clergyman confirmed. "You are a good example of how the church should provide for others for our fellow man.” 

“Actually, Pinky and I are a pair of lab mice.” Brain corrected. 

“Oh, my apologies.” The Archdeacon replied before turning his attention back to the bellringer. “By the way, Frollo notified me of his journey two days in advance, so I took the liberty of finding some suitable reading material to lend to you.” 

The clergyman retrieved three books from the bookshelf and placed them on the table. Quasi carefully read the titles of each book, with the mice looking on. Summa Theologiae , Paradiso , and Queste del Saint Graal . 

“Ooh, those are some excellent books.” Brain commented, feasting his eyes on the covers. 

The bellringer inspected the cover of Paradiso, noting the author’s name in small print. “So Dante did write a follow-up to Inferno and Purgatorio…” he thought to himself, remembering the vivid imagery from the first book. Frollo had emphasized passages from the story during one of his lessons about the pangs of eternal damnation during Quasi’s fifteenth year, which was spurred after he expressed a desire to attend the Festival of Fools. 

“I’m certain you’ll enjoy these books during your time of leisure.” The Archdeacon. 

“Thank you, Archdeacon,” Quasi graciously replied. “I’ll definitely read these when I’m not focusing on setting up my art business.” 

“You’re art business?” The clergyman repeated, sounding rather befuddled. 

Quasi widened his eyes. He had said too much. But seeing how the clergyman was surprised rather than angry, a reaction Quasi expected from Frollo, perhaps it was a good time to explain himself. “A-Archdeacon. I have something i-important to tell you, but I need you to promise not to tell my master.” 

The Archdeacon nodded. “Go on, son.” 

“I was thinking about starting my own art business by selling my figurines in the town square because I want to explore the city, but mostly because my friends need the extra money,” Quasi explained. “A-And since Frollo is out of town, I-I thought that it would be a good opportunity…for me…to expand my horizons…” 

The bellringer shyly gazed at the elder, expecting some twinge of anger or disgust that normally bore Frollo’s face. However, the Archdeacon’s eyes lit up as he softly smiled at the bellringer. 

“I think that it’s wonderful that you want to go out into the city and start living independently.” The Archdeacon said encouragingly. “Although you have gone above and beyond serving Notre Dame, I’ve always felt that you have been cooped up in here for far too long.” 

“And you haven’t tried anything to get Quasi to step foot outside the church?” Brain suspiciously inquired. 

“Frollo had made specific requests not to interfere with Quasimodo’s upbringing.” The Archdeacon responded, even rubbing his forehead at the mere thought of the Judge. “Many of my fellow brothers and I have made several interventions by allowing the dear boy to be more involved with the church instead of keeping him confined to the belltower.” 

Quasi silently nodded, remembering how the Archdeacon and the monks would make frequent visits during his childhood. When Frollo had to tend to his duties as Minister of Justice during the day, the young lad would often see one or two members of the clergy making their way into the loft. Oftentimes they would bring wicker baskets filled with food and art supplies as well as books for the boy. Other days, they would invite him downstairs to explore other parts of the cathedral or to visit the church’s library to read. On cold winter days, they brought him to the great meeting room to warm up by the fireplace. Jean, the previous bellringer, was also a grand source of company and comfort while he was still alive. Unfortunately, as Quasi grew older, many of the clergymen had become too weak to climb the tower and their visits became less frequent. Although Quasi had grown accustomed to being alone, he was grateful to his fellow church members for their presence. 

“Frollo reluctantly accepted our requests, but he is still adamant in his own ideas of parenting.” The Archdeacon continued. “Even though Frollo would greatly disagree with the sentiment, I approve of your decision.” 

A great big smile crossed Quasi’s face as he turned to the mice, who were equally happy. 

“Hurrah!” Pinky cheered. 

“However, I think that you should feel accustomed to being among the general populace first before stepping foot outside the church.” 

The smiles on the trio immediately vanished. 

“What do you mean?” Quasi inquired. 

“What I mean to say is that you should attend mass this evening.” The Archdeacon advised. “Frollo had always been so bent on keeping you locked away, even though you are a devoted member of the church.” 

Quasi nodded in agreement. Though his master forbade him from attending church among the other Parisians, the judge arranged a specialized mass for him. Every Sunday evening after ringing the vespers, the bellringer would go downstairs to the meeting room where one of the priests would out a service, complete with a makeshift altar. Quasi would sometimes sneak out of the belltower to observe the packed church services from the second floor or within the shadows just so he could be closer to the outside world. 

“You really think that’s such a good idea?” Brain inquired. “You’ve seen how those people attacked Quasi and Pinky.” 

“It’s worth a try.” Quasi solemnly interrupted. The mice gazed up at the bellringer, who continued to speak. “I-If I can handle attending mass with the other townspeople, surely I can handle interacting with them out in the city.” 

The Archdeacon smiled. “Very well,” he said as he stood up from his seat. “I have some more business to attend you, but I greatly appreciate sharing a wonderful luncheon with all of you.” 

“Thank you, Archdeacon,” Quasi said gratefully while allowing the mice to hitch a ride on his hand. 

“You’re most certainly welcome, son.” The clergyman fondly replied. “I look forward to seeing you at this evening’s service.” 

Once the trio arrived back at the belltower, Quasi focused on crafting more figures to sell. After carving a few saints and animals, he turned his attention to painting. Pinky happily assisted the bellringer in this job while Brain was occupied gathering the finished figures and counting inventory. 

After a while, the workshop became covered in colorful lights as the rays of the sun hit the stained glass mobile. The mice were completely spellbound by the sparkling jewel-toned lights that covered the room. 

“Naaarf…” Pinky awed. The taller mouse gazed at his shorter companion, who was covered in light shades of purple and blue. Oh, he looked so lovely with those pretty colors!

Brain looked up at the marvelous light source. “I assume you made that glass mobile as well?”

“Yes,” Quasi answered. “A few years ago, I was cleaning the cloisters when I came across a broken stained glass window. After informing the Archdeacon, I decided to take the opportunity to turn the remains of a broken stained glass window into an art project. I used some loose strings to tie up the shards of glass into a makeshift mobile.” 

“You certainly have a knack for creativity, Quasi.” Brain complimented. 

“Troz! And it certainly ties the whole room together!” Pinky cheerfully added. 

“Thanks, you two,” Quasi said gratefully. He then remembered something important. “Oh! I haven’t given you two a proper tour of the belltower!” He exclaimed while smacking his forehead. “There’s so much that I want to show you!” 

With gentle hands, he picked up Pinky and Brain, placing them on top of his head before climbing up the stairwell. Pinky scanned around the loft as they made their ascent and noticed three funny-looking statues. One pig-like creature with short horns and wings, one cat-like fellow with huge wings, and a wrinkly one. 

“Zort! Who are those three stooges over there?” The lanky mouse asked. 

“Oh, those are some of the gargoyles. Victor, Hugo, and Laverne.” Quasi explained. 

“Well they seem quite the characters,” Brain remarked. 

“You and Victor would get along splendidly, Brain.” Quasi asserted with a playful grin as he got on the platform. 

The blissful bellringer began his tour around his humble abode by showing them the bells. 

“You’ve heard the bells, but I want to properly introduce you to them.” Quasi eagerly stated. 

“Ooh, what are their names?” Pinky asked. 

“I’m glad you asked, Pinky!” Quasi replied as he climbed up the beam. “This is Little Sophia.” He introduced as he lovingly glided his arm across the cool brass. He then proceeded to swing across the beams to a trio of bells. “And here are the triplets; Jean-Marie, Anne-Marie, Louise-Marie!” his eager voice resonated beneath the bells. 

“Just like Huey, Dewey, and Louie! Narf!” Pinky added. 

Brain marveled at Quasi’s strength. Years of ringing such enormous bells certainly did wonders to his physique, from his gargantuan arms to his sculpted calves. However, Quasi possessed a certain finesse and playfulness to his strength. 

The shorter mouse glanced over at the biggest bell in the belfry. “And what’s her name?” He inquired. 

“Oh, that’s Big Marie!” Quasi answered as he swung his way back to the mice. Upon reaching the last beam, he propelled himself forward and landed on the hardwood floor on both feet. The bellringer then scooped the mice into his hands and limped over to his biggest sister. 

“She’s the calmest of the bells,” He explained. 

Brain seemed to understand Quasi’s excitement over talking about the bells. After years of loneliness, he confided to the bells, the statues, and the gargoyles. It didn’t seem all too different from Pinky talking (and flirting) with the various inanimate objects at Acme Apothecaries. 

“Actually, I find it endearing that you gave life to the objects in the belltower.” Brain admitted. 

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” Quasi replied softly. Over the years, Frollo looked down on the young man for befriending the statues or the bells. The stern guardian was always quick to make him feel ashamed for interacting with the gargoyles and the abandoned saints, or the bronze singers. But Quasi was grateful that the mice were more accepting of Quasi's lifelong companions. 

They entered the bell, admiring its beauty. Pinky saw his distorted reflection upon the bronze bell and proceeded to make a lot of silly poses and faces. “Narf!” his voice resonated within the bell, causing Brain to instinctively cover his ears. 

Quasi held the mice as they exited the bell. “Now, here comes the best part of the belltower!” the bellringer announced as he climbed up the ladder. 

The trio arrived at the rooftop just as the sun was setting over Paris. Quasi grinned as he walked over to the balcony. The mice gazed out at the magnificent sunset over the city. 

Brain and Pinky could not believe how extraordinary the city looked from above. The homes and buildings looked like toy blocks all stacked together. The Seine shimmered as the waves reflected the golden rays of the sun as descended from the majestic purple and red sky. 

The mice were gently placed on top of the stone railing. Once the rodents were settled in, Quasi leisurely hopped over to the other side, his strong hands holding on to the banister. 

“Quasi!” Brain yelped, his eyes wide with terror. Being on top of the cathedral could certainly be nerve-wracking, but climbing around the architecture like a squirrel climbing a tree was simply ludicrous

“Don’t worry, Brain,” Quasi assured him with a playful smile. “I’ve been climbing up and down the cathedral for years.” 

“Oh, that’s just comforting.” Brain sarcastically replied. 

“Egad, I never knew how many buildings and people there are in the city!” Pinky exclaimed. 

“There certainly is,” Quasi calmly agreed as he hoisted himself back on top of the railing. He pointed over at the large building that seemed to loom over the others. “That over there is the Palace of Justice, where Frollo works as the Minister of Justice,” he explained. 

Pinky’s eyes widened with interest before something else caught his attention. “And what’s that over there?” 

Quasi looked over to where Pinky was pointing. “That over there is the marketplace, where people buy their groceries and trade gossip.” 

“Ooh, do you know any good stories about the people down there?” Pinky asked. 

“Do I!?” Quasi exclaimed. The bellringer tapped his chin, trying to think of an interesting anecdote. Soon his eyes lit up in excitement. “Oh, there is one about the time Madame Flamiel got into an interesting conflict with one of the weavers.” 

Brain allowed a small smile to cross his face as his friends were eagerly discussing the different points of interest and hot gossip. He took in a deep breath as the cool breeze passed by, brushing the fur on his head. The eager chatter amongst his friends served as a comforting ambiance as Brain continued to admire the view of Paris. 

The mouse was so used to the grit and grime of the city streets, in regards to the city’s sanitation issues and the poor behavior of the general populace. He and Pinky were always trampled over and looked down upon for their short statures. But beyond his own plight as an outcast, Brain was also aware of the other marginalized groups who were treated just as poorly. The Romani, the disabled, the impoverished. It churned his stomach to witness such cruelty on a daily basis. 

But from up here, the world looked so much grander, more beautiful. From the symmetric buildings to the glistening river and the vastness of the lush emerald countryside. Everything looked so pristine and fair. Sitting on top of the cathedral, Brain no longer felt like a down-on-his-luck laboratory mouse. Instead, he felt like a king surveying his kingdom.

He could make the world a much better place. A fairer place for everyone. 

As he admired the view, he felt a warm paw gently covering his own. His breath hitched as he deduced there was only one other person who had hands that small. 

Brain glanced over to see Pinky’s hand gently holding his. Moving his gaze, he noticed that Pinky still stared out into the city. Brain felt his cheeks heat up as he entertained the idea of Pinky returning his affections. 

Soon enough, he and Pinky made eye contact. The pair of blue eyes Brain had grown accustomed to looked even more stunning as the sun cast a shade of gold over the mouse. Strangely enough, Pinky seemed a bit shyer than normal, almost as if he was hiding something. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have to ring for the evening mass soon,” Quasi informed the mice as he offered his hand to them. “Afterwards, we’ll stroll down the stairs and attend mass together.” 

“Oh, how exciting!” Pinky exclaimed as he clasped his hands together. 

“Yes,” Brain softly agreed as he carefully caressed the hand Pinky just held. 

The mouse glanced over at the city view, admiring the colorful sunset once more before turning his attention back to the young man. “And Quasi,” 

“Yes, Brain?” The bellringer gently asked. 

The mouse felt his ears droop a bit, as he tried to figure out how to express his gratitude. He then felt a soft paw on his shoulder. Pinky smiled at him, his blue eyes encouraging him to speak when he was ready. 

Brain exhaled. “Thank you for giving me this moment out here,” he began. “Seeing the world from up here made me feel so strong, so alive. And I’m grateful that you have provided me with this extraordinary view and allowed me to feel powerful.” 

Quasi smiled at him. For as long as he remembered, he would come out to the rooftop to bask in the beauty of the city. Though he had felt the pangs of loneliness in the belltower, the countless times he watched over Paris from the cathedral he dearly loved brought him a sense of belonging. But now Quasi felt grateful that he managed to share the city view with people who proudly referred to him as a friend. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed the view.” Quasi fondly replied. 

Then Brain looked over at Pinky. After a moment of gazing into his beautiful blue orbs, the shorter mouse mustered the courage to speak from the heart. “And it felt nice sitting here…with the both of you.” 

Pinky felt tears of joy emerging from his eyes. “Oh Brain!” he then scooped up the smaller mouse into a big hug, his tail turning into the shape of a heart. 

For once, Brain did not protest being held. 

After trekking down the spiral staircase, Quasi stood on the edge of the threshold. From the shadows, he carefully watched the Parisians fill the pews. The richly dressed nobles took their position near the altar, while the peasantry took up the rest of the seats. Many of the attendees knelt in prayer, awaiting the arrival of the clergy. 

The mice sat in the bellringer’s left hand. Pinky’s ears flattened upon seeing how crowded the church was. “Aww, the front row seats are already taken.” 

“The nobility normally sit at the front of the church,” 

Brain assessed the nave. “Perhaps it would be for the best if we took our seats in the back row.” The mouse asserted. 

He had a point. Everyone would focus their attention on the priest. The only thing he would have to worry about was going up to the altar for communion. 

“And you two will come with me as I walk down the aisle and receive communion?” Quasi asked. 

“Of course!” Pinky happily replied, which greatly eased the bellringer’s nerves. 

Quasi walked past the columns. Once he made it near the entrance, he emerged from the shadows. Noting the open chairs in the last row of the left-hand pew, he hastily made his way over there. He kneeled down and crossed himself before taking his seat. 

The mice were gently placed in the other seat while Quasi began to pray. 

Pinky tapped Brain on the shoulder. “Should we kneel too?” 

Brain darted his eyes to the side. Rubbing his chin, the mouse began to ponder. “I suppose it would make sense to imitate the other parishioners so as not to arouse any suspicion.” 

The mice knelt down in unison, clasping their paws together, their eyes glued to Quasi who served as a handy reference. 

“Um Brain,” Pinky nervously addressed. “I’m not I know how to pray.”

Brain’s face was contorted with confusion. For once, the intelligent mouse who prided his logic and scientific reasoning was at a loss of what to do. “You and me both, Pinky.” 

Quasi kept his head low as he waited for mass to begin. He could barely pick up the faint whispers of the other church attendees. Part of him assumed that they were reciting their prayers, but he also assumed that they could be gossiping about his presence. Pressing his clasped hands to his head, he closed his eyes as he began to pray. The young man often sought comfort in prayer. A long time ago, the Archdeacon taught him how prayer allowed him to directly communicate with God. Over the years he learned of the typical prayers, from the Our Father to the Hail Mary, but he also learned that just talking to the Almighty worked just as well. 

Dear Lord, I’m grateful for everything that has happened since yesterday, and I wish that my friends are given the strength and comfort they need. 

I am also in need of strength. 

Although my master forbade me from leaving the cathedral, my friends need my help in raising money. I know that it would be unwise to disobey him, but I can not bear to abandon my friends either and I want to help them to the best of my ability. 

I know that the world can be cruel, but please grant me the courage to face the world so that I can be more than just a monster. That perhaps I could become someone worthy of love.

“Hi there,” An amiable voice addressed him. 

Quasi looked over his shoulder and saw a tall blonde man with a short beard standing outside the row. The bellringer gazed at the man, who was dressed in a purple vest, white tunic, and brown hose. He was conventionally attractive by societal standards. 

“Is this seat taken?” The man quipped, giving the bellringer an amused smile. 

Quasi was tongue-tied. This considerably kind gentleman asked him a simple question and already he was at a loss of what to do. He then thought of Brain’s constructive criticisms from earlier. If he wanted to spend at least one day out there, he needed to put in the effort to participate in society and try to carry a conversation with another person. 

“O-Of course,” Quasi answered as he picked up the mice and scooted a couple of seats over. “I-I didn’t plan on taking this entire pew for myself.” He added. 

“That’s reassuring.” The blonde man joked as he sat down. “This place was a lot more crowded than I remembered.” 

Quasi curiously raised his brow. “How long ago was that?” 

“About twenty years ago.” The man answered casually. 

The bellringer was surprised. Without thinking things through, he added. “I-I actually lived in the cathedral for twenty years.” 

Once the words escaped from his mouth, Quasi slapped his forehead and groaned. Somehow he felt that he should not be telling his life story to strangers he just met, no matter how friendly they appear. He could only imagine what would happen if Frollo discovered that he had been conversing with other people outside of the cathedral. 

But the blonde’s eyes lit up in fascination. “Really?” 

Quasi stared back at the man. There was no trace of malice or mockery in his face. Instead, there was genuine intrigue in his smile. Quasi merely nodded his head in response. 

“That is fascinating,” The blonde added. “In my line of work, I can’t afford to settle down in one place.” 

Over on the other chair, the mice watched the conversation play out with great pleasure. Pinky grinned as he watched Quasi come out of his shell. Brain, too, smiled with pride as his eager pupil put his lessons into practice and was gaining confidence in himself. 

But the conversation came to a halt when the thunderous chords from the pipe organ rumbled the nave. Mass was in session. The worshippers immediately stood up on their feet as the priest and some altar servers began to walk down the aisle. 

Though the mice could not see what was going on, they had to rely on Quasi to get through the service. 

Brain managed to focus his attention during mass, following along with each of the readings. The mouse would often glance at Quasi, who kept his gaze at the altar. During the gospel, the priest recited the story of Jesus healing a blind man. 

“And his disciples asked him, saying ‘Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?’ Jesus answered, ‘Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.” 

Brain could hear a stifled gasp from Quasi. Turning his bulbous head to the side, he caught the bellringer wiping away a small tear from his eye. Placing a hand on his cheek, the mouse pondered over his friend’s reaction to the story. 

Pinky, on the other hand, was having a fun time. When he wasn’t standing up or down or trying to sing along, he focused his attention on the pretty candles that glimmered across the nave. 

Throughout the service, Quasi did his best to maintain his steadiness and composure. Even when the priest recited his favorite bible story during the gospel, one that deeply moved him on an emotional level, he did his best to hold back his tears of joy. He knew that people his appearance would provoke fear or mockery. But as he glanced over at the blonde man seated next to him, he thought about what Brain had told him during his business lesson. Perhaps people would be enamored by his gentle nature and friendliness. Even if a handful of people responded positively to his kind approach, then perhaps he would succeed in achieving his dream of having a fulfilling experience out there. 

By the time communion had arrived, the faithful parishioners prepared to accept the eucharist. Row by row, the attendees stood up and made their way over to the altar. Although the cathedral was packed, the procession was going by smoothly. 

By the time the worshippers at the back were able to head down the aisle, Quasi took a deep breath. He hoped that his walk to the altar would go without issue. 

The bellringer offered his hand to the mice. After hopping on, Pinky decided to climb up the young man’s right shoulder. 

“Pinky, what are you doing?” Brain scowled. 

“I wanted to get a better view of the church.” Pinky defended. 

The mouse thought this over. Perhaps there was an unusual brilliance in his friend’s goofiness. If he was perched on Quasi’s shoulder, then he would have the opportunity to fend off any potential harasser with an intimidating stare. 

“Although I’m certain your cerebral matter is comprised of a pea, I do have to commend your unorthodox idea, Pinky.” Brain admitted while climbing to Quasi’s left shoulder. 

Quasi, who was rather unphased by this action, looked over each shoulder. “Are you guys comfortable?” he inquired, to which the mice nodded. 

“Pinky and I will scare off any potential jerks while you go do whatever it is you do in this religious gathering.” Brain affirmed. 

“Glad to know that you both have my back,” the young man said. Once the words escaped his lips, he realized the added layer of that sentence. “...both figuratively and literally. 

Quasi stood from his seat and began to follow the blonde down the aisle. 

Most of the attendees were already back in their seats and had their sights set on the bellringer. Quasi glanced over each shoulder, feeling the stares of the worshippers. Brain was also keenly aware of the attention that Quasi received. He could tell that some of the parishioners concealed their disgust or mockery. Brain snarled at the gawking crowd. Like the stone gargoyles that perched on the cathedral, the smaller mouse protectively stood his ground as he guarded the bellringer against the ignorance and cruelty of the masses. 

Pinky sat on Quasi’s shoulder, watching him carefully as he made his way to the altar. The taller mouse could sense that the bellringer needed some extra encouragement. “You’re almost there, Quasi!” Pinky proudly whispered as he gently patted his shoulder. 

Quasi quickly glanced at the mice on each shoulder and was immensely grateful for their encouragement and protection. 

Once he arrived at the altar, Quasi silently bowed in reverence before approaching the Archdeacon. 

The elder gently smiled as he took out a communion wafer from the golden goblet. 

“Amen.” Quasi softly replied, accepting the bread of life in his hands. Gingerly taking the wafer, he placed it into his mouth as he walked over to receive the communion wine. 

“Aww, can’t I have a snack too?” Pinky whined. 

Brain slapped his hand against his forehead. “This is why I can’t take you anywhere, Pinky.” He said in exasperation. 

Quasi knew that he needed to return to the belltower to tend to his duties. Looking over at the stairwell entrance, he pivoted from the line and walked over to the threshold that separated his home from the rest of the world. But as he was mere footsteps away from the door, he glanced behind him to catch another glimpse of the amiable stranger who dared approach him, let alone converse with him. To Quasi’s surprise, he found the blonde man gazing rather wistfully at him as he returned to his pew. The bellringer smiled sadly before beginning his climb up the tower. 

Picking up the pace, Quasi ran up the tower steps in the hopes that he will ring the bells just in time to send off the parishioners. 

“So that went better than I expected.” Brain declared. 

“Indeed,” Quasi agreed as he arrived at the balustrade that connected the north and south towers. 

“And I’m so happy that you made a new friend, Quasi!” Pinky exclaimed. “We should try to meet up with him again sometime.” 

“I wish,” Quasi articulated. “I don’t know his name or where he resides in the city.” Upon entering the bell tower, he quickly climbed up the wooden stairs. “Although I regret not asking him his name, I’m grateful that we crossed paths anyhow.” 

As the trio arrived at the loft, Quasi gently placed the mice in his sleeping quarters. By this point, the mice knew the drill when it came to the daily tolls of the bells. They packed their ears with the wine corks and looked at their beloved bellringer who expertly pulled the ropes of the bells with great precision. The bells sang out sweeping melodies as the evening mass was concluded. 

Once the tolls faded away, the trio set aside their makeshift earplugs as Quasi returned to his bedroom. 

“So, would you two like to read Paradiso with me?” Quasi invited as he grabbed the book. 

“Yay, storytime!” Pinky cheered. 

Brain chuckled at his partner’s enthusiasm. “We’d love to.” The megalomaniac stretched out his arms and yawned. “Afterwards, we should rest. For tomorrow we have shall begin your business and my plan to seize control of the entire country!” 

Quasi smiled at the mouse, clearly endeared by determination. Tomorrow he would finally be able to live out his one desire and help his friend achieve his goal in return. The bellringer laid down on his straw bed, propping himself to a comfortable position. With the mice perched on his shoulders once more, Quasi opened up the book and began to read. 

Chapter Text

Early the next morning, Brain roused from his sleep. He glanced over to see that Pinky was still fast asleep and a good distance away from him. Though part of him was grateful that he didn’t have to face another awkward situation that pertained to receiving any physical affection from Pinky, part of him longed for his sweet embrace.

Pinky clutched his blanket close to him as he turned to the other side. Brain looked down at his own blanket and decided to place it over his slumbering friend. Even in sleep, Pinky smiled at the gesture as he snuggled himself with the added layer. 

Brain felt his heart tremble at the sight of his friend looking so innocent. Somehow, the megalomaniac was compelled to do more. Brain glanced around the loft only to find that Quasi was noticeably absent. Once the coast was clear, Brain leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Pinky’s bulbous red nose. He allowed his lips to gently linger on his companion’s nose for much longer than he intended until the horrifying realization of his actions settled in. 

Sweet Euripides, what have I done!?!?

Brain backed away almost immediately, his white cheeks now flushed. But as he hastily made his escape, he heard Pinky sigh contentedly. Thankfully the lankier mouse was still deep in his sleep. The shorter mouse tilted his head to the side as Pinky’s smile grew wider. 

Brain was grateful that no one else was there to witness that maudlin display. But it was clear that Brain needed a distraction. He needed something, anything , to satisfy his immense intellect. 

“Safe behind these windows and these parapets of stone…”

The soothing melody of a soft tenor reached his floppy ears. Wanting to investigate the sound without getting up, Brain turned over to his left to see the dark silhouette of the gentle bellringer propped up near the high window, vigilantly watching the city streets. 

“Gazing at the people down below me.”

Quasi turned around and hopped down, landing on his two feet. Brain carefully watched the young man walking with an uneven gait over to his beloved model city. 

“All my life I watched them as I hide up here alone, hungry for the histories they show me.”

The bellringer sat down on his stool as he gathered around the miniature Paris. From afar, Brain studied the model city once more as he thought about his interactions with Quasi. For someone who was sheltered, he was an intelligent young man who possessed a flair for creativity. From knowing his way around the cathedral and the significance of each statue and stained glass window to passing his economics quiz and being fluent in Latin and Greek. Even his passion for the arts shined through with his intricate models and figurines and how he employed rhythm and harmony when ringing the bells. A mind is a terrible thing to waste and Frollo was a fool for locking Quasi in the church, preventing the bellringer from reaching his true intellectual potential. 

“All my life I memorized their faces, knowing them as they would never know me.”

The desperation in Quasi’s voice tugged at Brain’s normally tight heartstrings. The mouse now realized why Quasi took good care of his model city. The greatly detailed figurines that looked almost life-like and the impressively crafted buildings were a reflection of the city he loved, but could never be a part of. A good natured outsider desperate to belong in a community.

“All my life I wondered how it feels to pass a day, not above them. But part of them.”

Quasi grabbed his wooden figure counterpart and carefully placed him in the middle of the city square amongst the other Parisians. The young man smiled hopefully at his model counterpart as he pondered over the idea of finding acceptance from the other denizens. 

“And out there, living in the sun. Give me one day out there, all I ask is one, to hold forever,”

At that moment, Brain felt humbled. For as long as he possessed genetic enhancements and vast intellect, he wanted to take his place as omnipotent potentate of the globe. But the only thing the sheltered bellringer truly wanted was to spend one day outside the cathedral and feel like he belonged in the world. 

“Out there, where they all live unaware. What I give. What I dare…”

A soft paw suddenly brushed Brain’s shoulder. The mouse turned around to see Pinky wrapped up with the blanket he had given him and tears on the verge of cascading down his cheeks. Brain was not surprised to see his kind, jumbo-sized hearted companion so moved by their friend’s song. 

“Just to live one day out there…”

Quasi rested his cheek on his calloused hand. Soon he would be able to join the world. If the reactions of the cathedral’s congregants have shown him, there was some truth to Frollo’s teachings. The world was cruel and wicked. But the bellringer shook his head. Pinky and Brain proved to be worthy friends. Brain had stood up for him when he was mocked and Pinky had encouraged him to keep moving during mass. Even the blonde stranger chose to sit next to him in the pews and stayed with him throughout the service. Surely that was evidence enough that not everyone would revile him as a monster. 

He was determined to make his stand and make the most out of his day outside Notre Dame. 

Pinky entered the workshop, eagerly applauding the bellringer. “Oh, that was beautiful!” The mouse praised. “You have a terrific singing voice!” 

Quasi smiled modestly. “Oh, it’s not that great,” he replied while waving his hand downward. 

“Oh, yes it is!” Pinky happily argued. “And Brain has a great singing voice too!” the mouse then gasped. “You two should sing a duet together!” 

Brain scrunched his brows together at the mention of his once-secret passion for singing. “Don’t listen to him, Quasi. I’m not a singer, and I don’t sing!” The megalomaniac then decided to change the subject. “But I must say that your vibrato is quite pleasing to hear.” Brain complimented the young man.

“Thanks,” Quasi replied. “I like to sing to myself every now and again.” 

“Brain likes to sing to himself too!” Pinky chirped. “Egad, I never knew you two had so much in common! Narf!” 

“Quiet, Pinky!” Brain commanded. “But now that we’re all up, let us make haste and prepare for our first day in business!” 

Dawn was fast approaching as the trio made their way down the stairs. Quasi effortlessly carried a spare table from his loft to use for his vendor booth. The mice were seated on top of his head, feeling the morning chill despite being well-dressed. After arriving in the nave, the bellringer continued his trek to the front doors of the cathedral. The stained glass windows remained muted as the sun had not peaked out. Once they arrived at the entrance, Quasi set the table down. With an effortless push, the left door to the Portal of the Virgin Mary (cathedral) opened, allowing a cold gust of wind into the church. Quasi stood on the edge of the threshold to the outside world. The streets were nearly vacant, save for some shopkeepers opening their businesses. The young man swallowed his spit as he nervously scanned his surroundings. Mass went well enough, but he wondered if the people would be less forgiving of him in the city square. 

“Y-Y-You got this!” Pinky chattered, rubbing his arms up and down to keep warm. 

Quasi stared at the taller mouse when he just remembered something important. “Oh my goodness, how could I forget!” 

The bellringer reached into his pocket to reveal two small cloaks; one red and one purple. “I got up a little earlier than usual this morning, so I had enough time to make these for you both in case it got cold.” 

He handed the red cloak to Pinky, who happily hugged it. “Thank you, Quasi!” Pinky was quick to place the cloak over his shoulders, feeling extra snug. 

When Brain accepted his cloak, he admired the design before securing it over his shoulders. “Yes, thank you for fashioning this elegant cape,” he stated gratefully. Once he secured the fabric, Brain dramatically swished the cape in a dramatic fashion. 

“ Naaarrf… ” Pinky purred in awe, feeling his cheeks heat up at the sight of his beloved companion acting so dashing and heroic.

“Purple is the color of royalty, which suits me quite well.” Brain added, making no attempt to hide his great ego. If I am to become the supreme ruler of the globe, I might as well start appearing as such. 

The bellringer softly chuckled as he lifted up the table once more. “I’m glad you’re both satisfied.” 

His eyes drifted over to the empty square. Taking in a deep breath, the bellringer decided to make his mark on the world. Placing his right foot onto the cathedral step, he ventured out from the portal, walking away from his beloved sanctuary. 

After a few paces, he dared to look back at the cathedral. Observing the statues that lined the tower, from the Gallery of Kings to the Holy Mother holding her precious Son. The statues held no malice or contempt. Instead, they respectfully acknowledged their beloved bellringer with their compassionate gazes and gave him their blessings. He lifted his stare over at the Virgin Mary, who gazed back at him with a loving smile on her stone face. Quasimodo smiled back at the supportive saints and statues. 

“Come now, Quasi, let’s get a move-on.” Brain reminded him. “The morning rush is about to start and we haven’t a moment to lose!” 

The bellringer nodded as he continued forth on his mission: to seize the day and immerse himself in the splendor of the outside world. 

The trio managed to find a good location to set up shop. A humble art stall tucked neatly in front of the alley that sat between the fishmonger’s store and the blacksmith’s workshop. The table had been meticulously prepared with many statues of villagers, animals, and saints stood proudly on top of the white table cloth. Quasi and the mice knew that the markets would be busy with eager patrons. Quasi would be able to interact with as many Parisians as possible, Brain would financially secure his world domination scheme, and Pinky would be happy to tag along and support his companions. 

A humbly dressed elderly couple, a man with a long white beard and a woman in a green hood, walked down the street. 

“Behold, my friends. Potential customers!” Brain exclaimed. Pinky joyfully smiled while clasping his hands together while Quasi tried to contain his excitement as his left leg bounced up and down under the table. 

“Do you really think that they would be interested in my figures?” Quasi asked. 

“Of course, they would!” Pinky happily reassured. 

“Only a fool would ignore your brilliantly crafted works of art!” Brain confidently added. “Now, just draw them in with your humble and congenial nature and our plan is sure to succeed.” 

Quasi drew in a deep breath and exhaled. This was his chance to be like any ordinary person and he was not going to back down. 

The young man happily smiled at the husband and wife, giving them a friendly wave. “Bonjour,” he kindly greeted. “The weather i-is quite lovely today, isn’t it?” 

But the woman gave an ear-piercing shriek as she clung to her husband, who stumbled backward. Quasi felt his stomach drop at the response. Pinky drooped his ears when he noticed the distressed expression on the bellringer’s face. 

Brain glanced over at his distraught human friend, wanting to alleviate the situation. “Wait a minute,” he hastily addressed the couple. “Aren’t you interested in purchasing some exquisite figurines?” 

“Come mon ami,” the old man told his spouse while crossing himself. “We must flee from this wretched beast at once!” 

Quasi felt stiff as he watched the couple flee. Out of the corner of his eye, he heard several windows and doors opening. Many people peaked out of their homes and businesses to investigate the alarming sound only to find the bellringer out and about. The shouts and muffled whispers of the bystanders flooded Quasi’s ears.

“Dear God, it’s hideous!”

“What is that thing?”

“It’s the demonic bell ringer from Notre Dame!”

The mice gazed at the growing number of people who emerged onto the street to gawk at the young man. They turned to see Quasi frozen in his seat, his breath quickening. Not wanting to see their friend in distress any longer, the lab mice tried to assuage his anxiety.

Pinky immediately launched onto the bell ringer’s left forearm, giving him the biggest hug. “Don’t worry, Quasi,” Pinky soothed. “Brain and I are right beside you.” 

“Pay no heed to them.” Brain informed as he shielded the bell ringer as best as a mouse could. 

But the cacophony from the crowd increased. Soon enough, Quasi could hear the booming voice of his master ringing in his head. 

“The world is cruel…”

“I alone can protect you from the wickedness of the city…”

“Everyone will revile you as a monster…”

“Frollo was right, ” the words quietly escaped from Quasi’s lips. “I am only a monster.” 

“Quasi, what are you talking about?” Pinky asked. 

“This was a terrible idea.” Quasi finally admitted as he stood up from his seat.

The mice were shocked at what they heard. Quasi was giving up already?

“What do you mean?” Brain inquired incredulously. 

“No one seems to be interested in my figurines because they’re too repulsed by my face!” Quasi snapped. “So I’m closing up shop and heading back to the tower,” 

Brain frowned. He was not going to allow his plan to acquire funds for the potion or have the young man turn his back on his own dream of exploring the outside world. The mouse was not going to let Quasi bow out without a fight.  

“What, you can’t just quit now!” Brain declared. “Think about your dream!” 

“Yeah, well, my dream to spend one day outside the church hasn’t been what it’s cracked up to be,” Quasi argued as he retrieved his basket and began to gather the figurines off of the counter. The bellringer could feel the stares of the bystanders, which made it abundantly clear that he was not treated with the same casual acceptance as any other person. 

The shorter mouse’s ears drooped at the sad honesty. But the rodent was determined to have the last word, and he was going to persuade Quasi to keep going through his own honesty. 

“But you can’t just let one failure cloud your judgment, my friend.” Brain countered. “Speaking as someone who endured a seemingly never-ending string of failures, the best thing to do is to roll with the punches! The road to success is paved by trial and error, and I know that you want this more than anything, so you must keep moving. Don’t let the scorn of the ignorant bring you down!” 

“You think this is the first time someone reviled me for my deformities?!” Quasi retaliated. “You remembered all those horrified faces of the people when we explored the nave yesterday afternoon.” 

Pinky drooped his ears and clutched his tail tight as he watched his friends argue. The normally talkative mouse was now at a loss for words. On the one hand, Quasi’s feelings were very important and he knows how it feels to have a no-good, very bad day. But at the same time, Brain was right. Just because he didn’t succeed the first time doesn’t mean that he should return to the cathedral and not try again. Pinky wanted Quasi to follow his dream and be happy, even if he had to fail several times to get what he wanted. 

“Pinky, I request your assistance.” Brain ordered. 

Pinky let go of his tail as he decided to back up his friends. “Poit! Now Quasi, I think we should take a break.” He suggested. 

“Take a break?” Brain repeated. “Pinky, you’re supposed to back me up!” 

“But that’s what I’m doing, Brain. Troz!” Pinky replied. “We should go back to the cathedral for a ten minute break, and once everyone feels better we’ll try again.” 

Quasi shook his head. “N-Never,” he stammered. 

“But Quasi, Brain and I want you to follow your dream of having a good life out in the world.” Pinky continued as he placed his paws on Quasi’s arm in an effort to console him. “Don’t you want to meet new people, visit the different parts of the city, and try out all sorts of fun things like snacking on pastries, seeing the pretty horsies or playing fairy kingdom out in the field?” 

Quasi stared into Pinky’s eyes and sighed. “Look Pinky, I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but this isn’t going to work…perhaps it would be better if I remained inside the cathedral.” 

“So you’re just going to give up?!” Brain barked back, refusing to accept Quasi’s defeatist approach. “But you promised to help us out!” 

“Look, I’ll try to come up with some other way to finance your plan.” Quasi protested. “All I want is to put this terrible day behind-”

Suddenly, the bellringer was smacked by a handful of mud.

The mice gasped in shock while Quasimodo stood petrified at what had occurred. With a gentle hand, he carefully wiped off the mud from his right cheek. 

Brain angrily balled his fists. He could hear some gasps and guffaws from the crowd. Whoever dared harass this innocent soul would soon feel the wrath of Earth’s future ruler. 

But then a pair of soldiers, a lanky mustached man and a short, pudgier man, cackled from the other side of the street. 

“What an ugly-looking sap.” The lanky soldier chortled.

“A horse’s rear is more handsome than that guy.” The portly soldier added. 

Brain indignantly crossed his arms as he approached the soldiers. “Oh, and you two slovenly simpletons think you are some sort of Adonis?” 

The soldiers sauntered over to the stall, feeling the need to assert their authority. 

“Oh, and who do you think you are? The King?” The mustached soldier asked. 

“Actually I am a lab mouse trying to take over the world,” Brain calmly declared. “So to answer your charming inquiry, yes. Yes I am.” 

The two soldiers exchanged mischievous glances before the mustached brute grabbed the smaller mouse. 

“Eck! Unhand me, you philistine!” Brain commanded. But the soldier squeezed the mouse even tighter, causing his eyes to bulge out. The mouse’s lungs threatened to collapse as he uttered desperately, “Help…me…”  

Quasi could not stand to see his friend in so much pain. The concern in his eyes warped into rage as he left the stall, stomping over to the soldier. 

“Let him go!” Quasi roared, gripping the soldier’s wrist. The mustached man yelped in pain as he released Brain from his grip. 

The smaller mouse yelled as he fell, but a callused hand swooped to his rescue, saving him from falling onto the cobblestone street. Brain was gently guided back to the table, where Pinky carefully guided him back on his feet. 

Brain assessed the situation. The crowd of bystanders grew to a mob. Among the curious faces stood the blonde bearded man from the evening mass, now dressed in a blue cloak, guiding a white stallion by the reins. Unlike the other citizens who were looking for entertainment, the blonde man was angry about the situation. 

Quasi tightened his grip on the man’s hand, steadying his resentful stare. However, the fat soldier approached him from behind. 

Brain’s eyes widened. “Quasi, behind you!” 

But it was too late. The other soldier jabbed the bellringer by the back with his fists. Quasi winced in pain as he fell to the ground. 

“Anyone who dares attack a soldier must be punished!” The portly soldier shouted as he grabbed the bellringer’s wrists. 

“Maybe some time in the idiot box should straighten you out,” The lanky soldier threatened. 

“That’s a good place for the ugliest face in all of Paris!” The fat guard agreed. 

But before the soldiers could arrest Quasi, the blonde gentleman emerged. The seriousness on his face had dialed back to a more casual expression. “Hey there, what seems to be the problem?” 

“Those mean men tried to hurt my friends!” Pinky tearfully explained. 

“None of your business!” The lanky guard spat. 

“Oh, I’m fairly certain it is.” The blonde man retorted as he moved his blue cloak backwards to reveal the gold armor and sword sheathed by his hip. 

The soldiers gaped at the knight in shining armor. “Captain Phoebus!” They saluted in unison. Quasi, too, was equally astounded by the reveal. The fat guard released his grip, and the bellringer was quick to caress his wrists. 

“I’ll take it from here. You two can return to your posts.” Phoebus ordered. 

“Yes sir!” The soldiers affirmed. 

Quasi and the mice could only gape at their two tormentors being reduced to school children having to obey orders from their instructor. 

The captain then turned his attention to the befuddled bystanders. “As for the rest of you, I’m fairly certain you have jobs to attend to.” He addressed the crowd. “Go on, there’s nothing to see here.”

The crowd dispersed upon the captain’s orders, no doubt returning to their occupations or resuming their chores. 

Quasi and the mice gazed at the soldier, feeling a strange sense of gratefulness for his intervention. Though Brain still had his reservations. He’s seen many soldiers and guards taking advantage of their posts for their own benefit, and part of him feared that this man might be no different. 

Phoebus then turned his attention over to the bellringer and the mice.

“Our friend was only acting in self-defense!” Brain exclaimed as he stood in front of the bellringer in a defensive stance. Quasi looked down at the mouse shielding him with his tiny arms, feeling grateful to have an outspoken friend by his side. 

“I know, I saw the whole thing,” Phoebus assured. “And I have no reason to press any charges against you three.” 

Brain lowered his arms and exhaled at the reassuring statement. 

“Hey, I remember you from yesterday’s service,” Quasi said. 

Phoebus smiled and nodded. “It’s good to see you too,” He then lifted the end of his cloak. “Though you have a little something on your face.” 

Quasi realized that the captain noticed the mud that coated his face. “Oh, y-y-you don’t have to do that.” He explained as he returned to his seat. “I-I-I appreciate the gesture, but I wouldn’t want your cloak to be ruined for my sake. Picking up his own cape, he wiped off the remaining bits of mud from his face and hair.

Phoebus noticed a missing spot. “Oh, you still got a little bit on the side of your chin.” 

“O-Oh,” Quasi replied as he guided the fabric over to the lower left side of his face. “Is it gone now?” 

“Yes, it is,” Phoebus assured. 

“Thank you,” The bellringer sighed dejectedly, his eyes downcast to the cobblestone street. Although he was grateful for Phoebus stepping in to defend him, the humiliation from being assaulted by the spiteful soldiers and gawked at by the other townspeople still stung. His eyes began to water as the wave of embarrassment creeped in. 

Phoebus continued to stare at Quasi with sympathetic eyes. He remembered how friendly the youthful man was during yesterday’s mass and the soldier was determined to return the favor. “So what’s your name?” He kindly asked. 

Quasi gazed up at the soldier in disbelief. He quickly wiped away his eyes and accepted the invitation to converse.  “Quasimodo, b-but my friends call me Quasi.” He gestured to the mice.

“My name is Pinky! Narf!” Pinky cheered. 

“And I am the Iconoclast,” Brain announced as he boastfully waggled his head. “But you may refer to me as The Brain.” 

The captain smiled. “My name is Phoebus,” But after a pause, he decided to follow up with a proper explanation. “It means Sun God.” 

What followed was an awkward silence. Quasi quizzically tilted his head as he exchanged looks with Pinky while Brain let out a forced cough. 

The taller mouse decided to break the silence. “Well my name means Pinky.” 

Pinky looked around and the soldier’s equine companion caught his attention. “And what’s your horsie’s name?” 

“Oh, this is Achilles.” Phoebus answered as his horse stood proudly. 

“Achilles,” Quasi repeated. “As in the Greek warrior?” 

“Yes!” Phoebus said excitedly. 

Achilles let out an annoyed snort through his nostrils. “Achilles, heel.” Phoebus told his horse. 

Quasi and Brain chuckled at the remark, having been well-versed in Greek mythology. Pinky, on the other hand, stared at his companions with a bemused expression. “I don’t get it.”

Once the laughter ceased, Quasi decided to change the conversation. “So, wait, you’re the Captain of the Guards?” 

“Yes,” Phoebus explained. “Minister Frollo appointed me as the new Captain, but I learned that he’s out of town and won’t be back before Christmas. So I’ve been tasked to keep the city under control until he gives me my first official assignment.” 

The captain then gazed over at the art stall. It was clear that he was impressed with the finely-crafted wooden villagers and animals.  “Did you make every one of those figures yourself?” 

Quasi suddenly felt shy at the simple inquiry. “Y-Yes, I-I did.” he hastily explained. “I’ve been making wooden figurines as a hobby for some time now.” 

Phoebus inspected the figurines, marveling at the level of detail in each one. “And how long have you been in business for?” 

“Oh! I just opened up shop today.” Quasi answered. “But I-I haven’t made any sales yet.” 

The soldier frowned upon hearing that. Then he set his eyes on a beautifully crafted white stallion. Reaching into his coin purse, he grabbed a handful of gold coins, and carefully plucked the wooden horse from the counter. 

Phoebus turned around and grinned at the young artist. “Well then, I’m proud to be your first customer.” He declared as he dropped the coins into the bellringer’s hand. 

Quasi stared at the coins, already noting that Phoebus paid more than the asking price. “I believe you gave me too much money.” 

“Keep the change,” Phoebus assured with a wave of his hand. The captain grabbed Achilles by the reins. “Oh, Quasi! Are you free tomorrow evening?” 

Quasi stopped to ponder. Normally he would ring the evening mass and complete any chores in the cloisters. But for some strange reason, he decided to disregard his routine errands. 

“No,” Quasi responded while shaking his head. 

“Great!” Phoebus exclaimed. “Then would you like to accompany me and find any good taverns? Because it’s been a while since I last set foot in Paris and I need to readjust to the city.” 

“I-I’d love to!” Quasi felt the words eagerly tumbling from his mouth. He never thought that he would get the chance to explore the city, let alone befriend an ordinary person. So the bellringer wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and engage with his beloved Paris and its denizens as much as possible during Frollo’s absence. 

Phoebus smiled sincerely at the bellringer. “Excellent! So should I meet you at the front doors of Notre Dame during sundown?” 

“Certainly.” Quasi affirmed with a nod. He then glanced over to the mice, who looked on with pride and happiness. Suddenly his smile was wiped away. How could he leave behind his small friends?

“And Phoebus?” 

“Yeah, Quasi?” 

“W-Would it be alright if the mice accompanied us as well?” Quasi asked. 

Phoebus looked over at the rodents and smiled. “Of course. The more the merrier!” 

“Yay!” Pinky cheered. 

“Then it’s settled,” Phoebus said. “I have to return to my duties, but I’m looking forward to meeting up with you three tomorrow.” 

“Likewise.” Quasi gladly added. “See you tomorrow.” 

“See you then!” Phoebus replied with a wave before tugging Achilles along. 

The three companions watched as the knight in shining armor guided his noble steed along the cobblestone street. 

“He seems nice,” Pinky said.

Brain glanced over at the three gold coins that sat on top the table and smiled. If he could prompt Quasi to continue his art business, he could make enough money to purchase the necessary ingredients for his mind-control potion, and he would be one step closer to world domination. 

“So Quasi, my dear chum,” Brain began as he looked up to his human companion. “Do you still want to surrender your art stall?” 

Quasi stared at the mice and pondered for a moment. He thought about the terrified reactions from most of the citizens, both inside the cathedral and outside on the city streets. He gently massaged the giant mound above his left eye. Changing his appearance was something outside of his control. There was no way that everyone was going to accept him for his entire being. But then he began to think about how the mice and Phoebus had befriended him and even stood up for him in his hour of need. If he could make three friends, perhaps he could make even more! All he had to do was place his faith in God to grant him strength, rely on the mice as his guide to the outside world, and trust himself to make the most out of the cards he had been dealt with. 

“You two were right,” Quasi declared as he began to reorganize the counter. “I can’t allow failure to stand in my way.” 

“Egad, Quasi, that’s brilliant!” Pinky exclaimed. 

“Frollo may have been correct about how cruel the world can be, but I now know that there is goodness out there as well.” Quasi explained. “And I’m determined to find as many good people and things in this city as possible!” 

Brain gently smiled at the bellringer. “I’m glad you decided to persevere.” 

Quasimodo smiled back at the mouse, and Brain could see the radiant glow from his features. 

Despite Phoebus’s bold intervention, business remained monotonously slow for the remainder of the morning. No one dared to go near the art stall as the citizens either gawked at him or picked up the pace as they went about their errands. The only people who did not seem to care were three black-haired siblings, two brothers and one sister, who merrily bounced down the street. They paused to wave hello at Quasi and the mice but quickly bailed when a portly city guard chased after them. 

Quasi decided to bring out the basket filled with their lunch. He packed some leftover cheese and bread from the other day. He hoped that he would make enough money from the art stall so he could use some of his profits to explore the marketplace and purchase any meat, fruits, or pastries that looked enticing. 

As he shared his lunch with his companions, the young man decided to bring up his musings. “Do you think we’ll make enough money to buy some additional food from the market?” 

Brain nodded as he gulped down his bit of cheese. “Yes,” he replied. “I am highly confident that your business will turn out splendidly. And since you're on the path to independence, you can buy just about anything you desire so long as it's within your price range.” 

Quasi smiled at the response. 

Pinky was enjoying his meal as he basked in the contented conversation between his friends. The mouse observed the busy street when he spotted a colorful wagon being prepared by a man in a purple hat and matching tunic. The eccentric individual also held onto a small felt puppet.

“Egad, a puppet show!” Pinky cheered. He then turned towards his shorter companion. “Oh, can I go, Brain?” 

“No.” Brain denied. “You’re still on the clock, Pinky, and I will not allow any sort of merriment or lollygagging.” 

Pinky’s ears drooped upon the rejection. Quasi could not stand to see the taller mouse in such a somber state. 

“Well, technically, this is my business.” Quasi argued. “And since I am the proprietor of this art stand, I can grant Pinky his mandatory break.” 

Pinky’s ears perked upward as he clasped his hands together. “Really?” 

“Of course, Pinky. You can go and enjoy the puppet show.” 

“Oh, thank you!” The taller mouse cheered before hopping down from the table and landing flat on his face. But he managed to pick himself back up and sprinted over to the colorful cart. 

Pinky skipped merrily down the street as he approached the small theater. About ten children and one grey-haired woman in a matching grey dress, who supervised a chestnut-haired lad in a brown tunic, crowded around the cart. The mouse happily took his place among the youthful audience, standing in between a blonde peasant girl in a purple dress and a young red-headed boy in a red tunic and blue hat. 

The curtains pulled back to reveal a silhouette of Notre Dame behind a paper screen. Pinky became spellbound as he heard the voice of the puppeteer establishing the scene. 

The mouse was surprised to see the blonde girl look over at him with a great smile. “This is my favorite story!” She whispered excitedly. 

Pinky smiled back, glad to know that he was in for a good show. 

“Morning in Paris, the city awakes to the bells of Notre Dame!” A boisterous voice sang. 

Pinky looked around to find the source of the singing, but became distracted when two felt puppets appeared on the stage. 

“The fisherman fishes, the baker man bakes to the bells of Notre Dame!” 

Suddenly, the entertainer revealed himself to his fascinated audience. The performer wore a large purple hat with a yellow feather sticking out (Pinky wondered if he called it macaroni), a purple and gold tunic and hose, and a magenta mask to conceal his face. 

“From the big bells as loud as the thunder! To the little bells soft as a psalm.” 

The performer revealed a big handbell and a little handbell to emphasize the lyrics. Pinky’s blue eyes were glued to the colorful entertainer. He thought about Quasi showing him and Brain the lovely bells in the belltower. So it was nice that other people appreciated the bells too. 

“And some say the soul of the city’s the toll of the bells! The bells of Notre Daaame!” 

The puppeteer put away his handbells as he continued his performance. 

“Listen, they’re beautiful no. So many colorful sounds, so many changing moods.” The puppeteer happily addressed the small audience. “But you know, they do not ring all by themselves.” 

Suddenly, a hand puppet of the puppeteer emerged. “They don’t?” The puppet questioned in a high-pitched voice. 

“No, silly. High, high in the dark bell tower, lives the mysterious bellringer.” 

Pinky’s eyes widened with excitement. “Egad, it’s a puppet show about Quasi!” He thought. The children eagerly muttered amongst themselves. 

The puppeteer then took a small club and smacked his puppet equivalent with it, gaining a few laughs from the audience. 

Pinky knew exactly who rang the bells and he was determined to let everyone else know too. 

“Ooh! Ooh!” Pinky shouted as he held his arm up in the air. “I know who rings the bells!” 

But his pleas were ignored as the performer continued on with his show. 

“Who is this creature?” 

“Who?”

“What is he?”

“What?” 

“How did he come to be there?” 

“How?” Pinky replied, tilting his head sideways. The mouse started to ponder. Didn’t Quasi say that Frollo saved him when he was a baby? Surely that’s what happened.

The puppeteer then took a small club and smacked his puppet equivalent with it, gaining a few laughs from the audience. “Hush!” he chastised. 

“Now that’s comedy!” The elderly woman exclaimed. 

“Clopin will tell you a tale,” the entertainer announced to his enchanted audience. “It is a tale of a man, and a monster…” 

“A monster?” Pinky thought excitedly. “Ooh, I hope this one has a fun creature design! Narf!”   

In a nearby street corner, a small Romani musical band busked on the busy street to earn their bread. A burly man sounded his horn while a thin bearded man and a pudgy woman played their flute and lute respectively. But the main star of the show was a beautiful dancer and tambourine player by the name of Esmeralda. She was a young woman in her twenties with bright green eyes and wavy dark hair who was dressed in a white blouse and purple skirt. Placed in the center of the troupe, Esmeralda expertly danced to the rhythm of her tambourine. 

The young woman swayed to the music as her purple skirt flowed about. For as long as she could remember, Esmeralda made a living dancing on the street for coins. She prided herself on her graceful movements, which managed to captivate just about anyone. From the curious children to the awestruck men, whether they be young bachelors or older husbands escorting their wives. And more often than not, those men, married or not, would gladly toss any loose change into her open purse. Although Esmeralda was aware of the powerful effect her dancing had on others, she still maintained her enjoyment of her craft regardless of how much money it brought in. 

Alongside the band stood Esmeralda’s faithful pet goat Djali. Although the goat was trained to be perform alongside his owner, even learning how to solve basic math problems, he mainly acted as a guard on the lookout for any soldiers. 

Djali trotted over to the left to find a pair of armed soldiers briskly strolling through the street. With a powerful bleat, he gave the band a warning cry. At that moment, the music ceased and the small group packed up their belongings and 

“Well, tips and gratuities haven’t been as abundant as I had hoped,” Mursha the horn player began, “But hopefully this should tie each of us over for the next couple days.” 

The band leader gave each performer their fair share of the profits. When Esmeralda held out her hands, the leader dropped a few coins into her palms. 

“Thank you,” she humbly said as she gathered her tambourine and goat. 

Esmeralda checked the street only to find no soldiers in sight. Breathing out, she gestured for Djali to follow her. As they walked down the street, she inspected her meager earnings. She looked at the handful of gold coins. The sight of gold reminded Esmeralda of a young knight in shining armor she once fell for. 

Chartes, France. February, 1479

In the town square, Esmeralda danced to the rhythm of her tambourine. The twenty-year-old had made a name for herself in the city for her graceful dancing to the point that each shift was guaranteed to end with a purse full of gold coins. 

But as she danced during the rather chilly afternoon, she spotted a blonde knight who had to be in his mid-twenties. The soldier smiled kindly at her as he approached her open purse. Esmeralda smiled gracefully at him as she maintained her rhythm. The knight became something of a familiar face since she arrived in Chartes. For the past few weeks, he would walk by her as she danced, either giving her a friendly wave or tossing some coins without a word. 

He dropped a few coins into her bag. “Lovely day out, isn’t it?” He casually asked. 

Esmeralda stopped dancing. She was well aware that soldiers were the least welcoming people, as many of them obediently followed orders to persecute any Roma they came across. 

“What do you want?” 

“Just two things,” the soldier began. “Your name, assuming you have one.” 

“Esmeralda.” She answered confidently. “And what’s the second thing you want from me?” 

Suddenly, the knight was taken aback by her bold attitude, but still soldiered on. “Well the second thing I want to know is if you’d like to accompany me to the tavern later tonight?” 

“How come?” Esmeralda inquired. 

“So I can get to know you more.” He answered. 

The dancer teasingly smiled. “I see, so you want to interrogate me.” 

“Actually, I was hoping it would play out less as an interrogation and more like a date.” He admitted. 

Esmeralda gazed at the soldier’s face and could not detect any signs of deception or treachery. Instead, she found only sincerity and bouts of playfulness in his expression. 

“Alright, I’ll take you up on your offer,” Esmeralda accepted. “Granted, I need to know the name of the man escorting me tonight.” 

“The name’s Phoebus,” the soldier answered with a wry smile. “And it means Sun God.” 

Esmeralda shook her head at the memory. Their date at the tavern proved to be successful and the two engaged in a romantic relationship. They spent many nights going on covert strolls around the city at night and learning more about one another. Unlike most soldiers she came across, Phoebus possessed an amiable aura and a good sense of humor, even poking fun at himself at times. Esmeralda also learned of his strong sense of justice, only wanted to use his standing to help those in need. It was a trait that she could understand firsthand and something they bonded over. She was also aware of the emotional baggage that came with his position, as she helped him through his bouts of panic or anxiety and comforted him as best as she could. 

Unfortunately, their relationship only last about four months as Phoebus was reassigned from a city guard at Chartes to fighting at the front lines at the Battle of Guingate, defending France from the Burgundians. Esmeralda hoped that he would come back from the war, but after months of waiting, she began to lose hope that she would see him again. 

She sighed as she shoved the memories to the side. There was no use in dwelling on the past. She had to focus on helping her people thrive in Paris. 

The dancer counted the coins as she dropped them into her purse. “Seems like we’re still a few francs short.” Esmeralda muttered at her meager earnings. 

She turned over to her goat. “Well Djali, I think we’d have to start showing off your mathematical brilliance again.” 

The goat snorted in response. Esmeralda let out a feigned gasp. “Don’t you backsass me!” 

As she looked forward, she saw a trio of middle-aged peasant women staring at her before returning to their gossip.

“That gypsy wench probably talks to her goat on what spells to cast.”

Esmeralda rolled her eyes as she picked up the pace. 

It’s been three months since she resided in Paris, and even now she made a name for herself. An alluring siren, a spell-caster, wretched heathen, mongrel. Although she could confide to her dear goat Djali, making human friends seemed to be a challenge as well. 

Most of the residents of the Court of Miracles, an underground safe haven for the Roma of Paris, had accepted her. Her dancing managed to bring in enough money, but her tenacious nature caused some members of her community to distance themselves from her. 

Though Esmeralda did not have much in the way of desires and could get by just fine, part of her wished for a friend who was kind and understanding. She missed having someone who showed her some mutual respect and acceptance. 

As she turned a street corner, she scanned through the various shops and stalls. When her eyes caught sight of a hunchbacked vendor seated at his stall, she involuntarily recoiled. 

“Good gracious,” she thought as she held her hands. 

But Djai noticed the many figures on the table and galloped away. Esmeralda gaped at her goat sprinting towards the stall, fearing the worst. 

Meanwhile, Quasi and Brain engaged in some chatter to pass the time. 

“You know, Brain, I’ve always wanted to stroll along the Seine.” The bellringer said hopefully.

“Well, you are able to do so, now that Frollo is absent.” Brain reminded. “Now you can exercise your independence and free will.” 

Quasi gazed at the mouse as he pondered over his words. All of his life he had relied on Frollo for every single aspect of his life, from his attire to his education. But his temporary leave provided the young man with the opportunity to go outside of his comfort zone and try to live his own life. 

But the clopping of hooves brought Quasi back into focus. The friends turned their attention from their idle prattle over to the curious goat who approached the stand. Propping himself on two hooves, Djali inspected the various figurines.  

“Oh, well hello there.” Quasi greeted the goat, who grimaced in response. The bellringer propped his cheek with his hand and sadly exhaled. What kind of businessman was he if he couldn’t win the approval of the animals? 

Esmeralda stopped in her tracks when she heard the friendliness radiating from the vendor’s soft voice. Most vendors and merchants were rather disgusted by her goat’s presence, so it was a nice change of pace to see someone who seemed rather fond of animals. 

The goat continued to inspect the line of figurines until he spotted a herd of sheep. He gave a curious sniff and then proceeded to eat one of the sheep. Quasi and Brain exchanged surprised glances. Something had to be done or else they would not have any figures to sell. 

“Hey! There will be no feasting on the merchandise!” Brain barked at the goat. 

The indignant mouse marched up towards the grey beast and pointed an accusatory hand. “And what do you have to say for yourself?” 

The goat stared at Brain before slurping up the mouse. Brain’s yell was incredibly audible even from inside the goat’s mouth. Quasi gazed at shock at what had occurred. 

“Brain!” Quasi shouted concernedly.

“Djali!” Esmeralda called out. 

Just as the goat started to flee, Quasi hopped over the counter and secured the animal in his arms. Once the bellringer successfully caught the animal, he saw a young Romani woman approach him. 

Esmeralda anxiously knelt by her goat. She looked up at the man and began to apologize. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” 

Quasi froze in place. He almost could not believe that a complete stranger had the gumption to approach him. 

“Oh! N-No, there’s no need to apologize.” Quasi stammered as he returned the goat to her. “But I’m afraid that your goat has slurped up my friend.” 

Suddenly, the goat felt a pair of hands propping its teeth upward. Brain, now drenched in saliva, heaved angrily. “I believe this goat deserves to be banned from the premises!” The mouse spat.

Quasi gently plucked Brain from the jaws of the beast. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry, Brain.” He soothed as he began to clean the mouse off with his cloak. The mousey megalomaniac frowned. As much as he appreciated how gentle Quasi cared for him, it was mortifying to be smothered with that much affection in public. He had an image of superiority to maintain!

“I’m sorry, Djali normally doesn’t misbehave.” Esmeralda explained. 

“That’s quite alright,” Quasi assured as he patted the goat. 

The two looked at each other for a moment. Esmeralda inspected the young man’s non-normative face and immediately noticed the aura of gentleness from his blue-green eyes. Upon reading his expression, she could tell that he was someone who, despite being shy, maintained a friendly disposition. As for Quasimodo, the woman’s shimmering emerald eyes captivated his interest. But the fact that she was gazing at him without any trace of fright or mockery almost rendered him speechless. 

The dancer sighed with relief. “Well, I better get going. I have to earn my bread before sundown.” 

Quasi nodded. But just as the woman turned around, the bellringer spoke up once more. “W-Wait! Before you leave, could you tell me your name?” 

The Romani woman turned around and smiled. “Esmeralda.” She said sweetly. “And what’s your name?” 

The bellringer suddenly felt shy. “Quasimodo,” he answered bashfully. “B-But you can call me Quasi.” 

Esmeralda gave a friendly nod. “Well, Quasi, it’s nice to meet you, and I hope that cross paths again soon.” 

Quasi sighed as he smiled back at her. “Likewise.” 

Esmeralda gestured for her goat to follow her as they continued their path down the street. The performer smiled to herself. Even though most of the Parisians she encountered had been either prejudiced or leering, it was nice to come across someone who was genuinely good. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, Djali, but I like him.” Esmeralda told her goat, who only grunted in response. 

“Speak for yourself,” She playfully chided as they stolled along. But she hoped that she would meet this peculiar man again soon. 

Back at the art stall, Quasi and Brain watched the woman and her goat walk into the distance. 

Brain looked up at the bellringer. “She seems like quite the character.” 

“Yeah,” Quasi replied. At that moment, the bellringer could care less if his art business flopped. The fact that a beautiful and friendly woman approached him without a trace of fright made his day a whole lot brighter. 

“If she does come around again, just make sure that she puts a leash on that goat.” Brain remarked. He could hear the young man’s chuckling ringing sweetly in his ears. 

Quasi smiled at the mouse. “I’ll try to make sure that the goat doesn’t come within five feet of any wooden figures or mice.” 

“Thank you!” Brain exasperatedly replied. 

Back at the wagon, Pinky was captivated by the puppet show. So it turned out that Quasi came from a small Romani family who sought refuge in Paris. But Frollo managed to find them and arrest them. But Quasi’s mum fled the scene so she could save her baby boy. Pinky was at the edge of his seat as that no-good, very bad Frollo chased her throughout the city. Thankfully she managed to go hop over the fence and get a head! He watched as the mother carried her baby to the cathedral. 

“Sanctuary!” The woman cried. “Please give us sanctuary!” 

Pinky watched as Frollo and his horse caught up to the woman. They fought over the bundle until he kicked her down, landing straight on the steps of the church. The stunned mouse covered his mouth. He knew that Frollo was bad from the way he treated Quasi, but he didn’t know that he also had kiled his mum in front of the church!

Pinky looked at his fellow audience members, who were also shocked by what just occurred. But the brown-haired lad in the brown tunic was rather saddened by the play as his wide eyes were brimmed with tears. 

“The bellringer’s mum…” he wobbled. “She’s…” but the lad began to loudly wail before he could finish the sentence. 

The boy’s elder guardian grabbed him by the shoulders in an effort to soothe him. “Calm down Skippy, it’s just a story!”

Suddenly, the cry of a baby echoed from the stage. 

“A baby?” The Frollo puppet asked before moving the blanket. The Judge let out a horrified gasp at the sight of what he carried. “A monster!” Frollo then looked to find a well and proceeded to move forward. 

Pinky’s eyes widened with fright as the Frollo puppet was about to toss the baby until the well. Thankfully the Archdeacon intervened. The hooded churchman began to call out Frollo for all of the nasty things he did, and Frollo actually listened. The Archdeacon told the Minister that he must raise the child, and Frollo reluctantly agreed. 

Soon Clopin popped up from the magenta curtain with a stern look on his face. “And so he gave the child a cruel name,” He explained. “A name that means half-formed...Quasimodo…” 

Pinky’s blue eyes expanded at the revelation. “Poit! So that mean, nasty Frollo didn’t save Quasi as a baby! He tried to throw him down the well, even after he knocked down his mum! And Frollo only kept Quasi in the cathedral because he didn’t want anyone else to see him!” 

The prop for the tower was set up as the Frollo puppet held the precious bundle into the cathedral. Afterward, Frollo was followed by a small puppet of the bellringer. 

“Nooooooooow, here is a riddle to guess if you can, sing the bells of Notre Dame!” Clopin continued to sing. “Who is the monster and who is the maaaaaaan?”  

“Quasi!!!” Pinky shouted as loud as he could. Suddenly he got the attention of all of the children. “Quasi is the man, and I know him!” 

This exclamation gained the children’s interest. They turned their backs on Clopin and his show in favor of the small mouse. 

Clopin stopped singing. The performer removed the set and emerged onto the window of his cart.  “Excuse me, but please hold your applause until after the show.” He indignantly commanded. 

“But I know who the bellringer is,” Pinky explained. “And he’s one of my very good friends!” 

The children began to mutter excitedly amongst themselves. 

“Is he nice?” A girl in a purple dress asked.

“One of the nicest people ever!” Pinky happily answered. “Oh, you children would love him! He’s good and sweet, and makes these beautiful figurines, and-” But Pinky stopped when he realized that he needed to get back to the stall. 

“Poit! Quasi’s art stall! I need to get back to work!” 

The mouse started to scamper on all fours when he heard the curious voice of one of the children. “Can we meet him?” The girl in the purple dress asked. 

“I wanna meet him too!” Another child piped up.

Soon the small group of children expressed their desire to meet the elusive bellringer.

Pinky screeched to a halt, quickly turning around. “Of course, he’d love to meet new people!” The mouse started running again. “Now follow me!” The taller mouse sprinted as fast as he could as the stampede of small feet trailed behind. 

Clopin stared in contempt as his audience fled, leaving his colorful wagon empty. The entertainer looked over at his left hand as his felt doppelganger merely shrugged in response. 

“So the once mysterious bellringer has decided to step outside the cathedral.” Clopin said to himself. 

Besides being a puppeteer, Clopin also prided his status as Sherutno of his people. For years, Judge Claude Frollo had used his authority to persecute the Romani community, even searching for the Court of Miracles. Clopin was successful in his efforts to keep his safe haven safe from the Minister of Justice’s iron clutches. Unfortunately, Clopin had heard countless stories of his fellow Roma who were hauled away to the Palace of Justice to be tortured or executed or families being ripped apart at the hands of the Judge. 

Clopin was only a lad of ten when he heard the devastating news that Florika, a dear family friend, was murdered by Frollo and that he had taken in her child to be raised in the bell tower. Although Clopin tried in vain to plan out a rescue mission, his elders told him that would only make matters worse. The Judge would merely use this as an excuse to launch greater assaults on the Romani and even discover the Court of Miracles. But as the years went by, Clopin grew uncertain if the stolen child would even be trustworthy. Frollo would have plagued his mind with discriminatory rhetoric and the mishappen bellringer would probably follow in his master’s footsteps. 

The colorful entertainer got out of his wagon. “I suppose it’s about time I meet this mysterious bellringer.” Clopin declared as he followed the trail. 

After running down the street, Pinky eventually spotted Quasi and Brain casually talking amongst themselves. 

Pinky stopped to catch his breath before turning around to the pack of children. “There’s Quasi!” 

The bellringer looked up to see Pinky and the small crowd of children (and one cranky old madame) staring at him. Not wanting a repeat of today’s incident, Quasi looked to Brain for guidance. 

“Just be yourself and say ‘hello’!” Brain mouthed as he gestured toward the small crowd. 

Quasi apprehensively gazed back at the distant crowd. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled. He needed to take a leap of faith and push himself out there. 

“Good afternoon, everyone.” Quasi greeted with a gentle smile and friendly wave. 

“Hey, Quasi!” Pinky exclaimed as he eagerly waved back. The taller mouse then turned towards the children. “See, I told you he was nice. Narf!” 

The children became interested in Quasimodo. They chattered excitedly amongst themselves as they ran over to the art stall, squishing poor Pinky in the process.

The bellringer was astonished to see the stampede of children rushing over to his stall. The kids crowded around the counter as they marveled at the figurines and began to speak with the young man. 

“Good day, monsieur!” The blonde girl happily greeted him. 

Quasi gazed at the girl, astounded by her friendly nature. 

“G-Good morning, mademoiselle.” He gently replied. 

“Did you make all of these?” The boy in the blue hat asked. 

“Yes, I did.” Quasi quickly answered. 

“Is it true that you go climb down people’s chimneys and steal their food and prized possessions?” Skippy inquired. 

“Wait, what?” The bellringer was taken aback by the question. 

“Skippy, knock it off!” Slappy berated her nephew. 

“Hey don’t yell at me! Monsieur Plotz told other people that story!” Skippy defended. 

Quasi sat puzzled by the rumor. How many ridiculous stories have people said about him for all these years? “Well, I-I never stepped foot outside Notre Dame until today, so to answer your question: No. I never climbed down people’s chimneys nor do I plan on doing so.” 

Skippy clapped his hands and gave his aunt a satisfactory smile. “Another mystery solved!” 

“Oh, brother…” Slappy groaned as she rolled her eyes. 

Three of the children began to play around with the small wooden villagers. Brain gasped at the heinous action. He would not allow his friend’s creations to be tampered with once more. 

“Hey! Stop horse-playing this instant!” the megalomaniacal mouse approached the three children, who were all stunned by his harsh tone. “Those figures are very delicate!” 

But one of the children, a young lad in a brown hood, merely picked up the mouse and inspected him with great fascination. “I wanna buy this toy!” He merrily shouted. Soon the other two children tried to get their hands on the mouse. 

“Hey, I’m not a toy!” Brain grunted in protest. 

Quasi noticed the mouse’s plight and carefully prompted the boy to let go of Brain. “He’s not for sale,” The bellringer explained as he cradled Brain in his hands. Suddenly, he came up with a bright idea. “H-However, I can make new toys that look exactly like him and have them ready by tomorrow.” 

“You mean it?” The lad in the hood asked. 

“Of course! I’ll have as many mouse figures made as possible and each of them will cost five denier.” 

The children smiled at the prospect of buying their very own mouse toy and cheered. 

“Now these figures are for paying customers only,” Brain explained as he gestured to the other items. 

“But I don’t have any money on me right now.” The boy in the blue hat replied. 

“Well, then you had better have some come tomorrow morning then if you want to buy your very own mouse toy.” Brain informed. 

At that, many of the children excitedly sprinted away from the stall, no doubt eager to go home and beg their parents and guardians for money. The boy in the blue hat stared at the bellringer and the mice for a few seconds before saying “Okay, bye.” 

Once the boy trotted away, the only people left by the counter were Skippy and his guardian. 

“Aunt Slappy, can I get this one?” Skippy asked as he pointed at the figure of the portly baker. 

Slappy grabbed the figure and carefully inspected it. “Huh, this is actually pretty impressive.” She muttered before glancing at the bellringer. “Hey pretty boy, how much do I have to pay up?” 

Quasi blinked. He then looked over at the mice, remembering the business role-playing session from the previous day. 

“Each figure costs five denier,” Quasi explained.

The elderly woman’s eyes widened before glancing at the other figures. “Well, it’s hard to refuse an offer like that then.” She then grabbed a figure of a bald man. “Then I’ll just have to add one more then.” 

Just as Slappy retrieved her coin purse, she heard her nephew pipe up. “You’re buying a figure of the cheesemonger?” 

“What can I say? I like a man who’s bald.” She shrugged as she slammed the denier on the table. 

Quasi quickly retrieved the coins, content that he made another successful sale. But just as the customers were about to leave, he was reminded of his get-together with Phoebus. Although he was familiar with the city square, he had no idea which tavern he could possibly recommend. 

“Oh, excuse me, madam.” Quasi alerted. “Do you know of any taverns in the city you would recommend?” 

Slappy turned around and smirked. “How bold of you to ask an old-timer like me of any good bars.” she joked. “But if you really want a fun night out, I’d suggest going to the Taverne de Termites, which is right down the road next to the Blacksmiths.” 

“Thank you, madam,” 

Just when they thought that the crowd had dispersed, Clopin approached the art stall, crossing his arms. 

“So, you’re the mysterious bell ringer of Notre Dame?” He inquired. 

Quasi felt intimidated by the colorful man. He looked over to the mice for comfort only to find Brain silently gesturing to him to answer the question. The young man shifted his gaze over the Romani man. “Y-Y-Yes, I am!” He nervously replied. “M-My name is Quasimo..”

“Yes, yes, I already know your name.” Clopin dismissed as he turned his attention over to the figurines. “How did you acquire so many of these miniatures?”

“Actually, I made them myself.” Quasi carefully answered. 

“Did anyone teach you how to carve?” Clopin interrogated. 

“I mainly taught myself how to carve figurines,” Quasi replied. 

Clopin stared at the humble bellringer, surprised that the man had a talent for crafting intricate figures. Among the wooden civilians stood a brightly-colored man in a purple hat. With a deft hand, Clopin swiped his wooden doppelganger from the stand and inspected it. 

“Well bellringer, normally I disprove of vendors peddling off unauthorized merchandise of myself,” He addressed as he took out his hand puppet, who crossed its arms. “But I must admit that you captured my charming personality in this finely crafted figure.” 

Clopin took out his money bag, retrieving two gold coins before slamming them on the stand. 

Quasi stared at his earned money in amazement. “Thank you very much, sir.” 

However, the entertainer was already walking in the other direction. 

The mice and the bellringer stared at one another, not sure what to make of the peculiar individual. 

But Brain managed to break the silence. “If it’s any consolation, the art stall turned out to be a success!” 

“Hooray!” Pinky cheered. 

Quasi released a sigh of relief. “I suppose it was. A-At first I wasn’t sure, but I’m glad that you encouraged me to persevere.” He said as he gave Brain a grateful smile. “But now I have to make about a dozen or so Brain figures by tonight if I’m going to provide you two with enough money for your plan.” 

“Excellent thinking, my friend.” Brain praised before turning his attention over to his mousey companion. “And you, Pinky, accomplished a great deal by attracting all of those impressionable children and potential customers over to the art stall. Excellent work, my friend!” He complimented as he patted Pinky on the back. 

“Oh, thank you, Brain!” Pinky gushed, blushing at the positive attention Brain gave him. 

“So Pinky, how was the puppet show?” Brain inquired, brushing the dust off of his tunic. 

“The puppet show?” Pinky repeated. The mouse could have sworn that there was a specific detail from the show that he needed to tell Quasi. But as he pondered some more, he felt a sharp pull inside his head. 

“Ow!” Pinky yelped as he rubbed his head. Perhaps he should not have pondered so hard.

“Pinky, it shouldn’t take too much of your mental energy to answer such a basic question.” Brain remarked. “Now come, we must return to the cathedral and count today’s earnings.” 

“Okay!” Pinky chirped. 

The belltower was aglow with the combination of moonlight and the myriad of candles. In the den, Pinky entertained himself by admiring the decorative illuminations in one of the books. At the worktable, Quasi was busily completing his written Latin and Greek alphabets for Brain. The young man placed the quill back in the ink pot, satisfied with his work. He got up from his seat and began to gather his woodworking tools, eager to start producing the mouse dolls.

Meanwhile, Brain had been contentedly enjoying his much-needed bath after almost being swallowed whole by that inconsiderate goat. His saliva-drenched clothes and cape had already been washed and were hung out to dry. 

The mouse released a contented sigh as he rested in the small wooden bowl, allowing his ivory coat to soak in the warm water. Everything was going according to plan. Quasi’s business was sure to grow and soon they’ll accumulate enough money to purchase the rest of the ingredients for mind-control potion. Quasi would continue to make an independent life outside the church and Brain would soon enact his plan for global domination. Everyone involved will get what they want. Things were looking up and there was nothing that could possibly sour his mood. 

“Hi, Brain!” Pinky called out as he popped his head up from the other side of the bowl. 

“Gah!” Brain yelped as he quickly moved his hands to cover his unmentionables. “Pinky, what are you doing here?” He angrily inquired. 

Pinky, who was also undressed, stood up with a small towel in his hand. “I was wondering when I could have my turn in the tub?” 

“I’ll be out in a second,” Brain grumpily explained.

“Goody!” Pinky cheered as he tossed his towel in the air. “I’m in the mood for a good cup of bathwater! Zort!” 

“Pinky, your bizarre choice of drink disgusts me.” Brain growled. “But before I exit the tub, I need you to cover your eyes.” 

Pinky immediately obeyed as he pressed his hands over his face. “‘Kay!” 

Brain rolled his eyes and grunted as he got out of the tub. He immediately grabbed his towel and wrapped it his around his waist. Once he was settled, he looked over to see Pinky walking around and humming as he covered his eyes. The taller mouse then tripped over his tail and fell over. 

“You can open your eyes now Pinky.” Brain said as he left the miniature bathhouse. 

The smaller mouse walked along the dining table and noticed Quasi putting the finishing touches on his work table. Brain couldn’t admit it, but it warmed his heart to see Quasi so enthused about his work. The sparkle in his eye reminded him of Pinky whenever he was busy making his paper birds or doing some other inane activity. 

Brain then walked over to the makeshift dressing room, which was made from a folded Jack playing card. Behind the changing station laid his fresh blue tunic and brown hose. After changing into his clothes, he emerged from the dressing room and whistled to the bellringer. 

Quasi looked over to Brain and smiled. After limping across the loft, he approached the table and held out his hands for the mouse, allowing him to hop on. 

“Thank you again for being my model,” Quasi said gratefully as he walked over to his work table, which was covered by a paint-spotted cloth. A myriad of painting tools and wooden blocks were neatly organized across the table, with an old plate placed in the center. 

“Of course, my friend. I am honored to be the creative muse for an incredible artist such as yourself.” Brain began as he stepped on the wooden plate. “And this is good practice for me when other painters and sculptors will make marvelous artworks in my image once I ascend to the global throne!” 

The mouse trotted over to the old plate. Standing in the center, he placed his hands on his hips.

Quasi picked up his carving knife with his left hand and a block of wood with his right. He studied the mouse’s anatomical features for a moment before getting to work. Brain watched with fascination as the bellringer carefully chipped away at the block, which slowly transformed into the shape of a mouse. 

The bellringer then gently turned the plate around to see Brain’s backside, who looked out to the beautiful model city of Paris. As he observed the details, he became curious of the mouse’s zig-zag tail. 

“May I ask you a question?” Quasi inquired. 

“Of course,” Brain answered. 

“So how did your tail come to be like this?” 

Brain’s eyes widened. Pinky had been the first to comment on his tail when they first met, but Brain had been so defensive that he gave Pinky the cold shoulder for the remainder of the night. But now that he had been older, Brain recognized that Quasi was merely curious. 

“Years of mishandling by the scientists at the apothecary.” Brain admitted in a stone-cold voice. “I was subjected to many terrible and excruciatingly painful experiments, which did a number on my tail.” 

The mouse crossed his arms as he stared downcast at the table. He thought about the seemingly carefree days of his youth, long before he called himself The Brain…

Many Years Ago…

A young mouse with big floppy ears happily wagged his tail as he leaped into the straw pile. Sniffing the dingy straw, the small pup popped his head from the pile and inspected his surroundings. He could have sworn that there were other mice that lived here. He was a tad dismayed that he didn’t have any other playmates to amuse, but he also did not mind having his alone time. 

Suddenly, a scarred human hand plucked the small happy mouse from his den. He looked over at the strange person and smiled. Maybe he wanted to play with him!

But the mouse was roughly tossed down on top of the table. Seated on the other side was a strange man with greasy black hair. His shimmering pink eyes widened with curiosity at what game they have prepared. 

“After weeks of hard work, I finally perfected the potion.” The scientist told the black-haired man as he poured some strange liquid into a wooden goblet. 

The mouse was roughly picked up one more, but the scientist propped his mouth open. The goblet was pressed against his lips and a strange-smelling liquid was forced down his throat. 

The young rodent winced at the foul drink. Just as the mouse coughed, he felt a strong electrical shock course through his small body. He screamed for help, but his pleas seemed to be ignored. The shock soon went away, but the pain lingered. 

“It works!” The black-haired man exclaimed. “Now I can properly eliminate my enemies!” 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” The scientist replied with a slimy smile as he shook hands with his nefarious associate. 

The mouse still laid on the table, struggling to stand up. He tried to move his tail, but he found no response from his appendage. Glancing backward, the mouse found that his once flexible tail turned into a pink zig-zag. 

Tears fell down his cheeks at the discovery. Feeling broken, the mouse hugged his knees, buried his head, and sobbed. Small cries filled the lab but went unanswered. 

Brain hugged himself upon revisiting the painful memory. Years of being subjected to many cruel tests had instilled in him a strong distrust in humans. Once he gained his vast intellect through genetic alteration, he was not surprised to learn how easily corrupt and manipulative other humans were, from government officials to affluent nobles. Perhaps the reason why he was not a complete cynic was that he somehow crossed paths with Pinky, who became his best friend. 

The mouse then turned around to see the bellringer staring back at him with gentle eyes. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Brain,” Quasi responded, his voice rich with compassion. 

Brain gazed back at the bellringer. “How could that cold-hearted judge have raised someone so gentle and merciful? ” he pondered. Quasi certainly seemed to be the embodiment of humanity’s redeemable qualities. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Brain quietly replied. But he noticed the bellringer still stared at him as if there was something he wanted to confess. 

“Brain, I want you to know that you’re not alone,” Quasi began. He glanced to the side, biting his lip before continuing. “Because…I have been hurt in the past as well.” 

The bellringer stood up from his chair and turned around. 

“Quasi?” Brain muttered. 

He then quickly pulled up his tunic as high as he could to reveal the many scarred whip lines across his back. Had the mouse not already bore witness to the bellringer’s exposed back, he would have been shocked by the visual evidence of the abuse from his master.

Soon the young man carefully pulled down his tunic and faced the mouse. 

“My master…he would sometimes slap me or beat me anytime I answered a wrong question on one of his tests or if I failed to complete my chores.” The bellringer explained as he brushed the dust from his shirt. “But anytime I acted out of line, o-or expressed some desire to venture outside of the cathedral or make new friends, he would bring out his cat o’ nine tails and whip me…” 

May, 1472

Quasi was always in a good mood whenever his mentor Jean, the official bellringer, stayed to visit. The older man had a head full of brown hair, sported a thick beard, and held a gentle smile on his face. 

He had even brought along his ten-year-old niece, Cosette, to visit the belltower for the third time.

When Jean told Quasi that he would bring his niece along with him a few weeks prior, the boy was both excited and nervous about meeting another person. While he wanted to interact with another child around his age, he feared that his appearance would scare her away. And although both children were timid during their first meeting, Jean broke the tension by bringing his deck of cards to play with. Fortunately, both children grew to enjoy each other’s company. 

For this visit, they had painted some of Quasi’s figures and now focused on building a house of cards on the other table.

The younger bellringer smiled at his new friend. Deep in his hose pocket, he had a small wooden carving of a rose. He tried to find the right moment to present the gift to her, hoping that she would like it. If she did, maybe she might even like him just as much as he liked her. 

Suddenly, the sound of creaky footsteps echoed throughout the belltower. A few moments later, the ominous shadow of Judge Claude Frollo loomed over the loft. The bellringer and the children gasped in shock while the house of cards collapsed. 

“Quasimodo!” Frollo roared. 

The young boy stumbled backwards upon hearing his name. “Master! I-I-I didn’t think y-you would be coming here so early!” 

“What is the meaning of this tomfoolery?” Frollo interrogated. “Why aren’t you completing your reading assignments or chores? And why is this little witch here?” 

But Jean stood up in Quasi’s defense, shielding him and his niece from the stern judge. “Sir, don’t lash out on the children!” he retaliated. “This ‘witch’ you speak of is my niece, and Quasi already completed his work. He needed to have a little break and I thought that it would be nice if he got acquainted with my little Cosette, since you never allow my apprentice to leave the church.” 

“Silence!” Frollo shouted. “You are just a mere bellringer, and you have no right to tell me how to raise my ward! Now I want you to leave the belltower immediately or else I will denounce your meager title and ensure that you never step foot in Notre Dame ever again!” 

Quasi took a step back. But he felt Jean’s hand patting his head once more. He looked up to his mentor, who gazed back at him with sorrowful eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Quasi.” He said remorsefully. “Stay strong for me until I return.” 

The elder bellringer rushed out of the loft while a crying Cosette latched onto her uncle’s side. 

Once Jean and his niece fled from the belltower, Quasi looked up to Frollo’s icy stare. Not wanting to face his fury, the boy fell to his knees. “I-I’m sorry master. I a-a-already completed my chores earlier today, and-” 

“Remove your shirt.” Frollo coldly commanded. 

Quasi froze. Realizing that he had no choice, he wordlessly complied. He pulled up his tunic, and after a moment of struggling, he successfully released himself from his shirt. 

From behind, he heard Frollo retrieve his cat o’ nine tails from his truss. 

Quasi felt his eyes start to water. “Please forgive me, sir…” He quietly pleaded. 

But he felt the sharp pain of the leather whips assault his exposed, misshapen back. The poor boy cried out in pain as he felt two more lashings from his master. 

“Let this be a lesson to you, dear boy,” Frollo explained in a slimy voice. “That girl could have led you down a road of licentiousness and sin and any shred of salvation for your soul would have been corrupted.” 

Quasi closed his eyes as he listened to his master’s words. “I-I’m s-sorry sir.” He rasped weakly. 

“All is forgiven.” Frollo harshly replied as he placed the whip back into his place and silently left the belltower. 

As Quasimodo opened his eyes, he noticed that there was no basket full of dinner on the table. Instead of nourishment, his master had given him more scars across his back. 

The boy allowed the tears to flow freely down his cheeks as he made his way over to his sleeping quarters. He collapsed onto his bed, curling into a ball as he hugged himself. 

Back in the present, Quasi lifted his gaze to face Brain, whose ears drooped downward after hearing the story. 

The mouse felt a tremendous amount of guilt. The bellringer only recounted his tale of abuse as a way to empathize with the mouse’s plight. “Quasi, I must confess that Pinky and I had already known about your lacerations.” 

The bellringer cocked his head to the side. “Since when?” 

“Since yesterday morning.” Brain answered. “We accidentally walked in on you putting on your shirt, but we didn’t say anything before because neither of us wanted to pry.” 

The bellringer nodded his head in understanding and exhaled. “I-I never met anyone else who had scars of their own. And I thought that sharing my own would help you feel like you weren’t alone.” 

Brain was greatly moved. “Quasi, I commend you for your empathy and I wish to say that you deserve to be with people who treat you with dignity and respect.” 

Quasi smiled as he moved his hand to gently pat Brain’s head. “Likewise, my friend.” 

Brain then looked over at his figurine counterpart. Knowing that Quasi could successfully replicate the model, his modeling services were no longer needed. 

Suddenly, Pinky climbed up the table. “I just finished talking with the statues and the gargoyles!” he exclaimed as he put on his apron. 

Brain rolled his eyes. “And I’m certain that you had a pleasant conversation then.” he drawled sarcastically. 

“Oh yes, I did Brain!” Pinky replied. “Laverne was just telling me about the time she told the pigeons to drop the white bombardiers on some of the city guards!” 

“That sounds like something she’d say,” Quasi said fondly as he completed his second mouse figure. 

“Anyhow,” Brain interrupted, wanting to change the subject to something less ridiculous. “So Quasi, did you complete the alphabet scroll?” 

“Of course.” The young man answered as he handed the parchment to the mouse. 

“Excellent.” Brain nodded. “I’m going to tend to my own business, and I’ll allow you two to return to work.” 

The smaller mouse then went over to the edge of the table. With his arms spread out, he hopped to the floor and gracefully landed on both feet. 

Pinky dreamily sighed as he watched Brain trot over to Quasi’s sleeping quarters before turning his attention back to the bellringer. “So, how can I help?” 

Quasi smiled at the taller mouse. “I’ll just continue carving the figures and you can help with painting.” he explained as he gathered the brushes and a few jars of paint. 

“Yay!” Pinky cheered. To his surprise, Quasi gifted him with a beige, mouse-sized smock. The taller mouse smiled gratefully as he put on the garment

Pinky dipped the brush into the jar of white paint and began to work on the wooden figure. He started out giving small simple strokes across his big, chubby head. After giving the figure a nice coat of paint, he grabbed a smaller brush to give it some nice pink ears and eyes. 

By that point, Quasi had finished crafting three additional Brain figures. Glancing over at Pinky, he smiled at his handiwork. “You’re a very good painter, Pinky.” 

“Oh, you’re far too kind, Quasi! Narf!” Pinky said modestly. “I just want to make sure that this figure is just as fetching and handsome as Brain!” 

But Pinky suddenly dropped the paintbrush and slapped his hand over his mouth. 

“Pinky, are you alright?” Quasi asked with great concern. 

Pinky dropped his hand. “Can you keep a secret?” The mouse quietly asked the bellringer. 

“Of course I can,” Quasi answered honestly. 

“Cross your heart and hope to poit!” Pinky questioned while crossing his chest. 

Quasi gently smiled at the sweet mouse while repeating the same gesture. “Cross my heart and hope to poit.” 

“Alright,” Pinky drew in a deep breath and exhaled before closing his eyes. After a dramatic pause, he spilled out the truth. “I’minlovewithBrain!” he confessed. 

Pinky opened one eye to see Quasi’s reaction, but he was rather surprised to see the slightly bemused expression on his face. 

“You’re in love with Brain,” Quasi repeated as he propped his chin on his left hand. 

“Yes!” Pinky affirmed in a soft shout as he walked over to the edge of the table to get a better look at Brain busily writing on a scroll. The taller mouse released a dreamy sigh as he laid down on the table to watch the glowing candlelight reflecting his crush’s chubby cranium. 

“Isn’t he so fetching?” Pinky asked as his tail turned into a big beating heart. “His big head, those soft chubby cheeks, and that romantic voice whenever he says those things that come out from his mouth.” 

Quasi pondered for a moment. “You mean words?” 

“Poit! So that’s what those are called then,” Pinky replied as if a world-changing revelation dawned on him. The mouse then propped his head in his hands as he continued to gaze at Brain. “Sure, I’ve had several girlfriends and boyfriends in the past, but being around Brain makes me feel so soft and gooey like paste!” 

Pinky rolled over and turned to Quasi. “Have you ever been in love?” 

Quasi eyes grew wide upon hearing Pinky’s question. “I-” but he stopped himself as he tried to properly phrase his answer. “Once or twice.” 

Pinky gasped and clasped his hands together. “That’s wonderful! Troz!” 

But Quasi let out a somber sigh. “Well, they started off wonderful…” 

Pinky’s ears drooped upon hearing the response. “What happened?” he asked innocently. 

The bellringer gazed over at the mouse. No one ever asked him about his past infatuations, nor were they ever interested. But there was something in Pinky’s blue eyes that compelled him to answer. 

“Like I said, I was only in love twice.” Quasi began. “The first time I ever fell for someone was when I was ten years old. My old mentor Jean, started to bring along his niece, Cosette, every Saturday for secret visits to the belltower. Although, she only visited a handful of times until Frollo caught us one afternoon. He threatened to fire Jean, I was punished, and I never saw her again.” 

Pinky sadly looked on in silence as he heard Quasi’s story. 

“The second time I ever felt that way for someone was when I was sixteen.” Quasi continued. “I was cleaning the cloisters one evening when I saw a…a young man praying in the pews.” 

The bellringer glanced down at Pinky, finding no trace of malice or disgust in his expression. The mouse only possessed love and concern as he encouraged him to continue his story. 

“Anyway, I was sweeping the tiled floors, trying to stay in the shadows. But he turned over to me and smiled at me. Then I was filled with so much love, but I was too afraid to introduce myself to him. That night, I told the Archdeacon about the young man, and he told me that he was a young poet by the name of Pierre Gringoire, and that he would arrange a meeting so I could become acquainted with him.” 

“And did you get to meet him?” Pinky asked eagerly. 

“Not quite,” Quasi answered. “The next day, I came down to the nave during the afternoon and waited for his arrival. Unfortunately, Frollo found me first…” 

November, 1478

The pigeons that had contentedly explored the floor of the belltower flew away as two pairs of footsteps climbed up the stairs. Quasimodo was the first to arrive at his loft, having completed the long walk of shame to his sanctuary. 

As he walked over to his chair, he felt Frollo’s hand gripping his shoulder as he was spun around. Once he made eye contact with his master, he received a hard slap across his face. 

“Why did you disobey me, Quasimodo?!” Frollo fiercely interrogated. “You know full well never to leave the belltower.” 

Quasi carefully cradled the red welt across his right cheek as tears began to pool in his eyes. “I-I didn’t mean to upset you, m-master…” his voice wobbled as he tried to explain.. “I-I-I was w-waiting for a f-friend, sir…” 

Frollo exhaled as he rubbed his temple. “My dear Quasimodo, how many times must we go over this? I am your only friend, for I’m the only one who could accept you for your ugliness. Everyone else would only see you as a monster.” 

“But, master-” 

“But, what?” 

Quasi swallowed his spit before continuing to speak. “What if…there was a day, i-in which you weren’t no longer here? Where else could I find love?” 

Frollo’s face twisted with fury. He marched up to the bellringer and grabbed him by his collar. 

“How dare you speak such foolishness to me!” Frollo yelled. “All those people out there you speak so fondly of would merely hate you. No one outside of these walls would ever dare to love someone like you!”

Quasi closed his eyes and turned the other way as his master yelled at him. Once he opened his eyes, he could see Frollo panting as he tried to regain composure. 

“Need I remind you that your mother abandoned you as a baby, leaving you at the mercy of the winter weather?” Frollo asked. “And who was the one who rescued you from the cruelty of the world, gave you sanctuary in Notre Dame, and raised you?” 

After a moment of silence, Quasimodo answered as he felt the tears run down his face. “You did, master…” 

“That’s right,” Frollo sneered as he released his grip from the bellringer’s collar. “I am the only one who could ever give you love even though you are not worthy to receive it.” 

Quasi released a forlorn sigh after revisiting those awful memories. Pinky wiped away the tears from his eyes as he gazed at his friend. 

“Frollo’s wrong,” Pinky said quietly. 

Quasi looked over at Pinky. “What?” 

“Frollo lied to you!” Pinky responded, having finally remembered everything from Clopin’s story. “Poit! Your mother tried to save you! A-And Frollo kicked her down and she died cause she hit her head on the steps of the church!” 

Quasi stared at Pinky with disbelieving eyes. “Pinky?”

“And Frollo was about to drop you down the well, but the Archdeacon managed to stop him in time, and he saved you!” 

The bellringer shook his head. Frollo had told him many times of how his master had rescued him as an infant. Frollo had given him everything, from the clothes on his back to the food that he ate and the lessons he had been taught. Yes, his master had been strict, but everything he did was purely out of love.

But Frollo saved my life, Quasimodo thought. He took me in when no one else would. 

“That can’t be true,” Quasi blurted out.

“But it is true, Quasi!” Pinky exclaimed. “I saw it at the puppet show!” 

“The puppet show?” Quasi repeated. “I don’t believe this.” 

“But I would never lie to you!” Pinky sadly pleaded. “Please, you have to believe me!” 

The bellringer was at a loss between two conflicting forces. The resolute teachings from his master and the compassion from his good friend. Quasi stared at Pinky’s blue eyes, moved by the great concern behind them. 

“Alright,” the bellringer exhaled. “Tell you what, tomorrow we’ll visit the puppet show during our lunch break and we’ll see if this story is supposedly true.” 

“Really?” Pinky asked, feeling very hopeful.

“Of course,” Quasi affirmed. “A-And you said that the Archdeacon was also present in the story.” 

Pinky wordlessly nodded, his soulful eyes staring at his dear friend. 

“Then we’ll visit his office before the evening mass and we’ll ask if he knows anything about this story.” 

“Hurrah!” Pinky cheered as he hopped up in the air. As he descended to the table, his feet landed on the paintbrush. The mouse struggled to keep his balance, but he landed backward with a thud. 

Quasi smiled sadly at Pinky, but soon frowned at the idea of Frollo having lied to him his whole life. Growing up, he viewed his master as his savior, someone who was strict, but only wanted what was best for him. Providing him with a path toward salvation because the outside world could never provide one for a monster like himself. 

“It’s just hard to wrap around how the only person who took me in and would willingly put up with a monster like me would lie about everything…” Quasi quietly confessed. 

Pinky became forlorn upon hearing Quasi’s lament. He could feel the stray tear falling down his face. Pinky felt his heart ache for Quasi. No one deserved to grow up with such a mean, awful person insulting them. What’s worse, was Quasi actually believed all those mean things Frollo said. Pinky knew that he was not well-versed in books and big words like Brain was, but he knew enough about feelings and he was determined to give Quasi the comfort he deserved. 

The tall mouse walked up to Quasi’s right hand, which laid across the table. With his small pink paws, Pinky sat down and held the bellringer’s hand with his own. The moment Quasi felt a gentle sensation on his right hand, he looked down to see Pinky brightly smiling at him. 

“But Frollo’s also wrong because you’re just as worthy to be loved as anyone else.” Pinky softly explained as he stroked his hands over Quasi’s hand. “And I know that you have so much love stored in that big old heart of yours and that you want to share it with as many people as possible!” 

Quasi smiled back at the mouse. While he had trouble believing Pinky’s earlier statement about his past, he was comforted by the knowledge that Pinky deeply cared about his well being and only wanted to provide him with love. The young man was grateful to have a friend like Pinky. 

“Thank you, Pinky,” the bellringer announced. “For being a good friend.” 

Pinky tearfully smiled as he tightened his hug around Quasi’s arm. “Of course! You’re a very good friend too!” 

Quasi smiled and gently stroked the top of Pinky’s head with the tip of his finger. The taller mouse purred as he leaned into the soft gesture. 

Brain returned, carrying two rolled-up parchments underneath his arm. The intelligent mouse stared up at his companions, suddenly feeling very awkward. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” 

Quasi and Pinky exchanged smiles before staring at Brain with welcoming expressions. “Not at all.” Quasi assured as he bent down and lifted the smaller mouse up onto the table. 

“First, I would like to share with you a very important document pertaining to your alphabet.” Brain explained as he unfurled the first parchment. 

A - Appreciation                        N - 

B - Beauty                                  O - Oblige

C - Confidence                           P - 

D - Determination                      Q - Quantum Mechanics

E - Excellence                             R - Resilience

F - Fortitude                               S - Science

G - Gumption                             T - The Brain

H - Heavenly                               U - Understand

I - Intelligence                             V - Valor

J - Jurisdiction                             W - World Domination

K - Kingdom                                X - Xenolith

L - Loquacious                             Y - Yearn

M - Mathematics                          Z - Zoology

“I’ve had some difficulty trying to decide the perfect words for N and P.” Brain explained. 

Quasi looked at his revised alphabet. “How about P for Pinky?” he suggested. “Since your name is already in there, I think it’s only fair that Pinky should be included as well.” 

“Narf!” Pinky shouted. “And N should be…”

“Narf?” Brain sarcastically asked. 

“Actually, I was thinking Macarena,” Pinky replied very seriously. “But Narf is also a good idea.” 

Brain stared at Pinky with his brow raised. “Very well, I’ll make sure to add these suggestions in there.” 

After rolling up the scroll, the megalomaniacal mouse continued to speak. “In regards to your literary studies that your so-called master provided you with, you don’t have to worry about a thing because I already completed the assignments for you.” 

Quasi raised his brow. “But wouldn’t Frollo suspect that the assignments weren’t complete in my handwriting?” 

“Already taken into account, my friend.” Brain confidently assured. “I used the alphabet sheet you gave me as a reference and I forged your assignments.” 

“Brilliant, Brain!” Pinky cheered. “Now Quasi doesn’t have to do any homework and he can do all the fun-fun, silly-willy things with us!” 

“Yes, Pinky,” Brain agreed. “He can do many fun-fun, silly-willy things like preparing our supply of figurines to sell tomorrow.” 

“Right,” Quasi nodded as he began to carve another figure. 

“So I’ve been brainstorming the perfect name for our new toy line,” Brain announced as he put on his apron. “I figured The Iconoclast would be the perfect name to captivate the attention of our target demographic.”

Pinky tilted his head. “That’s nice Brain, but those toys look more like Noodle Noggins to me.” 

Quasi listened in on the conversation as he completed the figure. Placing it gently with the others, he picked up another block of wood. “Noodle Noggin…” he repeated to himself as he crafted the next mouse figure. The moment he turned the block into a replica of Brain, he inspected the figure with the proposed name in mind. 

“I think Noodle Noggin is a terrific name, Pinky.” Quasi agreed. 

“You can’t be serious Quasi,” Brain protested. “Surely an artistic prodigy such as yourself would not stoop so low as to bestow your latest creations with such a bizarre name.” 

“All right then, let’s vote on it.” Quasi declared. “All in favor of naming the toys Noodle Noggin, raise your hand.” 

Pinky launched his hand in the air while Quasi casually raised his. “All who oppose the name, raise your hand.” 

Brain weakly raised his hand despite knowing well that the masses had outnumbered him. 

“Noodle Noggin it is!” Quasi announced. 

“Oh, joy, Noodle Noggin,” Brain muttered sarcastically. “So what’s next? You’re going to create wooden figures of anthropomorphic vegetables and have them reenact Bible stories?” 

At that moment, the bellringer paused to consider this. “You might actually be on to something, Brain.” 

“I’d watch all sorts of stories with talking vegetables!” Pinky added. “Narf!” 

“Never mind,” Brain sighed in defeat as he began to paint a wooden replica of himself. “But despite the rather silly name, I’m certain that your toys are going to be bona-fide money-makers!” 

Quasi smiled at the mice. “Thank you again, for helping me out.” 

Brain was humbled by the bellringer’s sincerity and smiled. “Well, that’s what friends do,” he admitted as he continued painting the figure. 

“And we love you very much!” Pinky eagerly added. 

Now it was Quasi’s turn to feel moved. Placing down another complete figure on the table he gently stared at the mice. “I love you guys too.” 

Chapter Text

Grey clouds loomed over Paris as the citizens started another busy day. Despite the foreboding weather, things seemed to be looking up for Quasimodo and the mice that morning. The bellringer had carefully crafted twenty-five Noodle Noggin figures, all of them eager to find a new home despite their sour frowns. The mice helped Quasi place the figures on display, forming two rows on top of the counter. The trio even dressed warmly, as Quasi wore a long-sleeve shirt underneath his green tunic and blue cape. Pinky and Brain also dressed in their long-sleeve tunics, hose, and capes, but Quasi also had made them small brown hats for an extra layer of comfort. 

“This is it, my friends,” Brain eagerly addressed his companions. “Today will determine our destiny in the realm of business!” 

Quasi smiled as he placed the last Noodle Noggin toy on display. “Do you really think that the same children from yesterday would come back to buy my figures?” 

As the Parisians emerged onto the city street, the trio spotted the same excited children from yesterday, and a few others, making their way to the stall. Some of the children came on their own while others eagerly tugged at the arms of their reluctant parents. 

“Egad, there are so many people coming! Narf!” Pinky happily exclaimed, standing on his tippy-toes to observe the small crowd. 

“Does that answer your question?” Brain replied as he smugly smiled at the bellringer. 

Quasi gazed at the incoming customers. His wood carving was a hobby that stemmed from his loneliness and desire to belong. But ever since he opened up shop, word of his figurines was starting to spread around Paris. Quasi never would believe that the one talent that brought him so much joy could be shared with others. 

“Alright, places everyone!” Brain ordered. Quasi nodded and sat up as straight as he could. If things went well, then this could be the start of a whole new chapter in his life. 

The first customer in line was the blonde girl in the purple dress from yesterday. The young lass eagerly pulled her apprehensive mother to the counter. 

“Good morning, monsieur Quasimodo!” The girl greeted with a sincere smile. 

Quasi smiled back at the girl. “Good morning,” he gently replied. “A-And what’s your name?” 

“Marie!” She confidently replied. 

Quasi smiled. “That’s a lovely name. I-In fact, one of the bells in Notre Dame is named Big Marie.” 

Marie’s eyes widened with excitement. “Do all the bells have names?” 

“Of course!” Quasi answered as his enthusiasm began to take over. “There’s little Sophia, who’s the smallest of the bells. And then there are the triplets, Jean-Marie, Anne-Marie, and Louise-Marie,” 

But as Quasi eagerly explained the names of his beloved bells, he quickly glanced over towards the mice. Pinky clasped his hands together and smiled, clearly happy to see him in his element. However, Quasi noticed the stern look on Brain’s face. The megalomaniac gestured his right hand in a circular motion to indicate that he should wrap up the conversation and move on to the business transaction. 

“But I-I suppose I can tell you about them another time,” Quasi said quickly. 

Marie smiled brightly at the bellringer. She then looked up to her mother while pulling on her dress. “Mama, can I meet with monsieur Quasimodo to talk more about the bells? Please?” 

The young mother glanced at the bellringer and then back at her daughter. “Maybe tomorrow, but only after you complete chores.” 

“Yes!” Marie crowed. 

 “So, h-how can I help you, Marie?” Quasi asked the young girl. 

“Can I have one of the little mouse dolls, please?” She inquired politely. 

“You certainly may,” Quasi answered as he carefully picked up one of the dolls to give to her. 

“Troz! And they’re called Noodle Noggin!” Pinky cheerfully exclaimed. 

“And they cost five denier,” Brain added in his serious tone. 

Marie turned to her mother once more. “Can I pay?” 

The young mother smiled fondly at her eager daughter. “Of course, mon petite ange ,” she cooed as she handed her the money.

Marie smiled as she handed Quasimodo her payment. The bellringer graciously accepted the coins, placing them into his purse. In return, he gently gave her the first Noodle Noggin toy.

“Have a good day!” Quasi said as he waved. Little Marie smiled as she waved back at him, which only fueled the joy in the bellringer’s heart. Even the girl’s mother seemed far less anxious than she was when she first approached him, a hopeful indicator that people could change their preconceived notions about him. 

“Alright, next in line please!” Brain shouted as he gestured for the long line to move. 

The next batch of customers was a bald noble gentleman dressed in a red overcoat and blue trousers supervising three rambunctious black-haired siblings. The anxious guardian tried to keep the eager children from bouncing up and down but to no avail. The oldest was a lad in his early teens dressed in a green coat and brown slacks, the middle child wore a blue tunic and a red hat, and the youngest wore a white blouse, pink skirt, and a yellow flower in her short hair. 

The middle child bounced up and down, eagerly pointing at Quasi. “It’s the bellringer!” He happily exclaimed with his tongue lolling about, but the bald gentleman gently elbowed him. 

“Schtop it, Vakko,” the man chastised his ward in an accent foreign to the bellringer. “It is impolite to point.”

The bellringer took a deep breath, hoping that the good fortune he had with interacting with Marie and her mother would continue to sail smoothly with the next customers. “Good morning,” Quasi greeted the family. 

“Bonjour,” the three children chorused. The siblings bowed and curtseyed, surprising Quasimodo with their politeness. 

“I’m Yakko!” The eldest introduced himself.  

“I’m Wakko!” The middle one eagerly announced.

“And I’m Dot!” The youngest proudly declared. “But call me Dottie, and you die.” 

Quasi was slightly taken aback by the warning. “Duly noted,” he replied, respecting her wishes. 

“Hey Scratchy, can we each get a toy?” The girl asked as she gave him the largest puppy-dog eyes. 

“We’ve been awfully good.” The eldest boy added. 

“Now, patience,” The guardian replied. “Ja, you may have one toy each.” 

“Hurray!” Yakko and Dot cheered in tandem. 

Wakko approached the counter as he happily gazed at Quasi. “Can you teach me to climb up the buildings?” 

“Can I what? ” Quasi was astounded by the inquiry. 

“Oh don’t be so modest,” Yakko replied with a sly smile. “We’ve seen you climb around Notre Dame every now and again like a caped assassin. Not to mention singing with a voice that would make any princess jealous.” 

“Yeah, you’re practically the patron saint of parkour!” Dot exclaimed. 

Quasi felt his cheeks heat up at the compliments. At a young age, he had taught himself how to navigate his way around the cathedral both as a way to express his love for his home and view Paris from a different perspective. Despite perfecting his acrobatic abilities, it only now occurred to him that the people below him would have watched him climb up and down Notre Dame. But the realization that they also heard him sing caused him to blush harder. 

“Surely you can give me some lessons on how to hop around the cathedral!” Wakko chirped as he rocked on the heels of his feet. 

“I-I’m flattered, really, but I’m not teaching anyone at the moment,” Quasi informed the middle child. 

Wakko slumped his shoulders in defeat. But then he came up with another suggestion. “Do you give tours of the bell tower?” 

Quasi stopped to ponder. He prided himself on his position as the official bellringer of Notre Dame, so the thought of showing his beloved bells to others who might be interested brought him some much-needed joy. 

“I…might be able to arrange a time to offer a tour,” he shyly offered.

“Faboo!” Wakko cheered. 

Quasi smiled, feeling more confident after the interaction. “So which figure would you like to have?” 

“I want the Noodle Noggin!” Dot answered. 

“Make that two!” Yakko added, holding two fingers up to emphasize his demand. 

Wakko tapped his chin as he thought long and hard. “Hmmm…” After a moment of silence, he perked up. “I’ll also get a Noodle Noggin!”

“Alright, so three dolls would come to a total of fifteen denier,” Quasi explained. 

“Come on, Scratchy!” Dot chirped. 

“Yeah, pay the nice man!” Yakko added. 

“Scratchy?” The befuddled bellringer inquired. 

“Ah, zat’s just an affectionate nickname. My real name is Dr. Otto von Scratchinsniff.” The good doctor explained. 

“Oh, a-and I suppose you’re not from around Paris, if your accent is anything to go off of.” Quasi noted. 

“Ja, I vas raised in ze city of Hamburg,” Dr. Scratchinsniff explained. “But I moved here to schtudy at ze University of Paris and schtayed ever since.” 

The bald doctor turned over to his three wards, his face in a stern frown once more. “Now, vat do you say to ze vendor?” 

“Thank you!” The siblings chorused, even blowing him a kiss. 

“Oh, you’re most certainly welcome,” Quasi responded, feeling a tad overwhelmed by the over-the-top displays of affection. “Have a nice day!” 

“Bye!” The children sang once more as they were guided by the doctor. 

“See Scratchy, I told you the bellringer wasn’t bad!” Wakko told his guardian in a matter-of-fact tone.

Quasi sighed with relief that the transaction went well. He felt a small hand pat his forearm and looked to see Pinky smiling at him.

“You’re doing great! Troz!” Pinky complimented, smiling sweetly at him. 

Quasi looked over to see Brain giving him a small smile of his own and an encouraging nod. The bellringer knew that Brain was not as openly affectionate as Pinky, but he appreciated his own way of showcasing his support. 

The mice looked over to see that the line had grown about ten feet longer than it once was. The next person in line was a little boy in a grey tunic and a worn-out straw hat. Quasi smiled and respectfully greeted the lad. 

Brain could not help but grin at his friends. Quasi seemed to become more and more comfortable socializing, Pinky seemed happy to be included, and business was booming. 

The shop proved to be a tremendous success. The Noodle Noggin toys had sold out within the hour and Quasi even managed to sell about half of the other figures on display. By noon time, the trio accumulated a great profit from their sales and the guarantee that more customers would return to get their hands on the highly coveted Noodle Noggin dolls. 

Although Quasi expected to receive the worst type of scorn, the customer interactions had gone surprisingly smoothly. He noticed that many of the children were the same ones from the previous day, eager to purchase their own Noodle Noggin toy. Some children were more outgoing while others were shy but curious. Even the parents who had accompanied their children remained polite, some of them even warming up to him. 

But the thing that impressed the mice most of all was how Quasi handled himself as a salesman. Though the young man seemed a bit anxious about the small crowd at first, he gained more and more confidence with each customer interaction. His amiable aura certainly helped, especially with how treated the children with kindness and respect. 

Brain counted the funds in the coin purse and was immensely satisfied with the profits Quasi earned. 

“Quasi, it seems you have proven to be a most competent business owner.” Brain complimented. “You’re starting to come out of your shell and I am very proud of you for that alone.” 

The bellringer smiled at the high praise. “And thank you for the encouragement.” 

“That’s what friends do! Troz!” Pinky added. 

Brain heaved the coin purse and gave it to Quasi. “Well, it seems that we have a sufficient amount of money. I suppose it would be for the best to head to the market and begin to purchase our ingredients for the potion.” 

“But let’s try to make it as quick as possible. I told the Archdeacon that I would return to ring the Nones.” Quasi advised. Before he and the mice had gone out for the morning, the bellringer swung by the clergyman’s office to tell him that he would continue business with his art stand. Though the Archdeacon assured Quasi that two of the novice monks would tend to the bells for him, Quasi insisted that he would return to Notre Dame at a decent hour. 

“But Brain,” Pinky interrupted. “Can we swing by the puppet show first?” 

“What for?” Brain scowled. 

Pinky nervously fiddled with his hands. “Poit! Well, I saw that the puppeteer put on a story that was about how Quasi came to the cathedral. And I promised Quasi that I’d take him to see that colorful puppeteer since he knows Quasi’s actual orange-anne story!”

“You mean to say origin story, Pinky,” Brain corrected. “And how do you know that this puppeteer character isn’t just making up some tall tale just to attract a large audience?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Quasi shyly interjected. “When Pinky first told me that my mother didn’t abandon me and that Frollo had killed her, I-I couldn’t believe it myself. But I promised Pinky that I’d go see him and find out the truth and put this whole thing to rest.” 

Brain’s hardened stare softened as he heard Quasi make his case. The megalomaniac then rubbed his chin, his bushy brows knit together as he pondered. He figured that Frollo was far from the nurturing type and that any story that was contradictory to the ‘self-righteous savior’ narrative he told Quasi would be more believable. Although Brain wanted to just get his ingredients, his concern for the bellringer proved to be much greater.

 “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to find answers.” Brain stated, his voice laced with sympathy for the young man. 

“Yay!” Pinky cheered as he hopped off the table, leading his friends to their next stop. 

The taller mouse sprinted down the street, eager to confront the puppeteer. Was his name Chopin? Pinky thought as he tried to remember the entertainer’s name. But what mattered was that they were going to get answers!

But as he approached the iron gate that guarded the town square, he could not find the small wagon anywhere. Pinky’s ears drooped sadly. “But the colorful puppet man was right here when I saw him yesterday.” 

“Maybe the man has the day off,” Brain dismissed. 

Quasi sadly sighed as he knelt down to scoop Pinky back up. “It’ll be alright, Pinky,” he reassured the mouse as he carefully placed him back on his right shoulder and close to Brain.

“Do you think we’ll find him soon?” Pinky inquired. 

“I’m sure we will,” Quasi concluded. 

Suddenly, they heard a strange growling sound. 

Pinky’s ears perked up. “Oh, pardon me. Zort!” He said bashfully. “I’m feeling a bit famished and I could go for a good dirt cup with some extra worms.” 

“Your meal preferences are quite unsettling, Pinky.” Brain sourly remarked. 

“How about we find something at the market,” Quasi gently suggested. 

The trio resumed strolling down the street in search of a good meal. Quasi noticed many of the pedestrians gazing at him, not knowing what to make of him. The bellringer carefully adjusted his hood to cover as much of his face as he possibly could. The mice looked up at their friend, feeling despondent of his plight.

As they continued their journey, they spotted Esmeralda and Djali by the street corner. The young woman moved gracefully to the rhythm of her tambourine as Djali hopped around, keeping in time with the dance. Quasi stopped in his tracks, pleasantly surprised to see her once more. 

Brain stared at the goat in disgust. “Ugh, I never want to go near that horrid beast again,” 

Pinky looked over at his companion. “Egad, you met a beautiful goat and didn’t think to introduce him to me?”

Brain felt his cheeks flush red with anger and a pinch of jealousy. “Pinky, that mongrel almost gobbled me up!” He snapped. “Had Quasi and Esmeralda not intervened, I would have been done for. Now, let’s move along, Quasi.” 

However, the bellringer did not listen to the mouse’s command. 

“Quasi?” Brain asked his friend once more but he did not budge. The megalomaniac and his eager companion looked at each other with confused expressions for a moment before glancing down at the young man, who was clearly entranced with the beautiful woman.

Quasi was simply astounded by Esmeralda’s dancing as she moved gracefully to the steady beating of her instrument. For years, Frollo had told Quasi that dancing was a common activity amongst sinners and he had no business partaking in such licentious manners. But in his years of watching the ordinary citizens go about their day from the comfort of his sanctuary, the young man noticed many people dancing, from celebrants at festivals to buskers trying to earn their bread. He carefully watched the smile on Esmeralda’s face as she moved with great finesse. The joy radiating from her eyes as she danced seemed no different from the satisfaction Quasimodo received from ringing the bells. The more he thought, he came to the conclusion that dancing was similar to bellringing. Both of them involve great physical skill and years of practice and brought happiness to the participants. 

The mice immediately noticed how transfixed their human friend was with the dancer. Pinky looked back up at Brain. “Did you say her name was Esmeralda?” 

“Yes,” Brain answered. “Quasi and I had a little run-in with her and her scraggly quadrupedal companion yesterday while you were at that puppet show.” 

Pinky looked over at Quasi, then at Esmeralda, and back at Quasi once more. Then a blissful smile crossed his face. Pinky could practically feel Quasi fall for Esmeralda, which made his heart do somersaults. The taller mouse hugged himself so he could contain the joy he felt for the bellringer. 

“Ooh, this is so exciting! Narf!” Pinky thought happily. “Quasi has finally found true love!” 

Brain, on the other hand, was not surprised that the bellringer was smitten with the beautiful dancer. While the megalomaniac did not want to involve himself with such trivial matters as romance, he decided to give Quasi a little push so that they can be on their way. 

Quasi felt a sharp tug on his right sleeve and he looked over to see that Brain had climbed onto his shoulder. “Usually, it’s customary for anyone passing by buskers to give a small gratuity to showcase their appreciation for their craft.” Brain explained. “It’s not mandatory, but it’s almost always encouraged.” 

Quasi nodded, then reached into his coin purse and fished out some coins. He could give her a tip into the purple bag that laid in front of her and continue on his way. 

But as he approached the large coin-filled purse,  Esmeralda locked eyes with his. Her smile brightened at his presence. “Quasi, it’s good to see you again.”

Quasi froze in place, overcome with shyness. He didn’t expect the dancer to give him a friendly greeting, let alone remember him. The bellringer looked over at his shoulder to see Pinky giving him an encouraging smile as he gestured to keep moving. 

“H-Hey, it’s good to see you too,” Quasi said meekly as he dropped his coins into the hat. He was about to flee from the scene when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Wait a minute,” Esmeralda said gently. “Before you go, I wanted to make up for Djali’s misbehavior yesterday.” 

They heard the goat huff in protest. 

“I’ll pay you back for the damage,” she explained as she reached down to her hat, 

“Y-Y-You don’t have to do that,” Quasi replied, trying his hardest to come off as casual, but failing royally. 

“Here,” Esmeralda insisted as she placed five sou in Quasi’s right palm. 

The bellringer gazed at Esmeralda’s hand, noting how much smaller it was compared to his own. 

“I appreciate the gesture, Esmeralda,” Quasi said quickly. “But I h-have some errands to complete. A-And I’ll let you get back to your business.” 

The bellringer briskly walked a few paces before realizing that he had come off as brash. He turned around to see Esmeralda feeling a tad dejected. 

Though Quasi had found it difficult to speak with her, he managed to force the words out of his mouth. “I-I hope to see you, again…soon…” 

Esmeralda gently smiled. “I’ll see you around then,” she said with a wave. 

Quasi shyly smiled as he weakly waved back at Esmeralda. But the moment he turned around, he smacked his forehead, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, and resumed walking. 

As the bellringer quickened his pace, the mice looked at each other as if they were pondering the same thing. Quasi needed some reassurance if he wished to gain the courage to speak with Esmeralda once more. 

Pinky hopped down to join Brain on the bellringer’s right shoulder. The lanky mouse then scooched closer to talk to his dear human friend. “She seems very nice!” 

“Yeah, she is.” Quasi quietly agreed. 

“But you seemed so eager to leave,” Brain countered. 

The bellringer sadly sighed at the comment. “I-I’m not sure why I start to feel so nervous and tongue-tied around her,” Quasi explained. “...I feel like a complete mess.” 

Pinky sadly frowned. “It’s alright Quasi,” he consoled. “I’m sure that she still likes you just the way you are.” 

Brain rubbed the back of his head, feeling compelled to provide some advice. “It’ll take some time to get used to socializing with others in this new environment,” he said. “But if you apply the same level of confidence and enthusiasm you have like when you talk to me and Pinky, then I’m sure you’ll be able to thrive.” 

“Yeah, you can talk to her about the bells, and the statues, and any other fun-fun, silly-willy things you enjoy! Narf!” Pinky cheerfully added. 

“I appreciate the advice, you guys,” Quasi told the mice. 

Just as they continued down the street, Quasi felt something small hit his back. As he winced in pain, the cacophony of cruel laughter reached his ears. The bellringer turned around to see three teenagers carrying a handful of rocks. 

“There’s the demon!” The gang leader shouted.

“He’s much more hideous than I thought.” His right-hand accomplice grimaced. 

Brain sneered at the three hooligans. “Just ignore those imbecilic mouth-breathers, Quasi,” the mouse advised. 

But one of the boys threw another rock at the bellringer, hitting him in the chest. 

Quasi frowned. He knew full well that going on a peaceful stroll around the city was never going to be possible for someone like him. Frollo had taught him long ago that the world would simply hate him for existing and would not hesitate to show cruelty. But after the incident in the church nave and the run-in with the oafish soldiers, Quasi was not going to give in so easily. 

“Leave me alone,” the bellringer sharply commanded. 

Brain’s eyes widened with both surprise and pride at his friend’s sudden display of fortitude. He looked over at the teenager, who seemed taken aback by Quasi’s response. 

Pinky gave Quasi a small congratulatory pat on his shoulder before standing alongside him in solidarity. “Yeah, so why don’t you go pick on someone your own size! Narf!” The mouse shouted with righteous indignation. 

“Or go take a hike back to the ice age, you dim-witted neanderthals!” Brain added. 

But the cruel teenagers quickly regained their composure, as they laughed amongst themselves. 

“So what are you gonna do about it?” The ringleader asked snottily as he played around with the stone in his hand. 

But before he could cause more harm to the bellringer, he was pushed into the cobblestone street and landed on a puddle of mud with his rear up in the air. 

Quasi and the mice looked to see that Djali had come to attack the perpetrators. The goat kicked the taller teen in the shins and bit on the rear of the blonde teen. Not wanting to face the wrath of the horned beast, the teenagers hastily fled down the street. 

Then Esmeralda arrived, with her arms crossed and a satisfied smile on her face. “That’ll do, Djali. That’ll do.” She complimented him as she patted his head. Esmeralda then looked up at Quasi and sprinted over to his side. “Are you alright?” 

“You sent your goat here to help me out?” Quasi asked. 

“I saw what those jerks were doing, and I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing,” Esmeralda told him. “But you’re not hurt, are you?” 

“I can feel a couple of small bruises coming on, but it’s nothing to worry about,” Quasi assured her. 

Esmeralda sighed in dismay at hearing the bellringer brush off his bruises. But the dancer approached Quasi with a gentle smile on her face. “But you did a good job standing your ground,” she complimented. 

Quasi blushed, feeling shy once more. He rubbed the back of his head with his left hand and cast his stare at the grimy cobblestone street. “Thanks, Esmeralda,” he blurted as his hand fell back to his side. 

Esmeralda inspected the bellringer and was endeared by his gentleness and modest nature. She carefully grabbed his large hand into her smaller ones. The surprising gesture astonished Quasi, rendering the young man speechless. 

“Are you going somewhere in particular?” She asked. 

“A-Actually, I-I was just about to go purchase some groceries a-and I’m not due back to Notre Dame until a little later.” 

“Did you want to come with me to the bakery?” Esmeralda offered. “They have some great pastries that are affordable.” 

Quasi stared in disbelief. However, he could tell that she was being sincere in her invitation. “You…you would want someone like me to go to the bakery with you?“

Esmeralda smiled at him, her hand not budging. “It seems like both of us would benefit from having a little company.”

The honest answer stunned Quasimodo. For years he dreamt of many scenarios where he would explore Paris with one or many companions who would not be so repulsed by his deformities. Now he would be able to live out his humble fantasy having found another human who shared a mutual desire for friendship. 

“Can we go get some goodies at the bakery, please?” Pinky pleaded. 

Quasi looked over at the mice and smiled. “Well, I don’t see why not.” 

“Great!” Esmeralda said as she took Quasi’s hand into her own. “It’s just down the street.” 

Pinky grabbed Brain, holding him bridal style as he hopped off of Quasimodo’s shoulder. Brain latched onto Pinky as they descended onto the cobblestone street, surprised that he managed to land on both feet. 

Pinky contentedly hummed as he gently placed Brain on the ground. 

“Pinky, what in Aristotle’s rusted shovel are you doing?” Brain snapped. 

“Shh,” Pinky replied. “We gotta give Quasi some space to be with his girl! Troz!” 

“ His girl? ” Brain inquired. Once the words escaped, he immediately caught onto what Pinky was scheming. “Pinky, are you implying that Quasi is developing some romantic feelings for Esmeralda and that you are plotting to get them together?” 

“Yep!” Pinky chirped. “Oh just think of it Brain: Quasi will finally be able to find love!” 

Brain tapped his chin as he pondered over Pinky’s assertion. Despite his appearance, Quasimodo seemed to possess endearing qualities that anyone would find attractive. He was a kind and gracious person who was a talented artist to boot. So the young man was more than worthy of receiving any type of love, romantic or otherwise. 

Quasi, on the other hand, had been so transfixed on Esmeralda willingly holding his hand that he had forgotten about his rodent companions. Normally, he would have heard a “Narf”, “Poit” or “Troz” from Pinky, but was surprised to not hear any of his verbal tics. 

“Pinky? Brain?” he called out to his friends.

“There’s no need to fret, Quasi.” Brain called from behind. “We’re right behind you.” 

Suddenly, the mice heard the squeaky wheels of a vegetable cart coming in their direction. Brain instinctively held Pinky’s hand, screaming as they ran to the left. Pinky felt his heart skip a beat. His cheeks flared up as Brain protectively held his hand. 

The group traveled down the street until they reached the little bakery by the stone bridge that arched over the Seine, as indicated by the small pretzel sign. Long baguettes lined up against the building and underneath the string of donuts on the metal rack. Underneath the red awning laid two baskets full of fresh loaves ready to be purchased. 

Quasi felt a sense of dread as he drew closer to the store. What if the baker rejected him because of his appearance? And if so, would other store vendors refuse to do business with him because of his ugliness? 

Esmeralda had read the look of anxiety on his face. “Quasi, what’s wrong?” 

The bellringer stopped in his tracks. Seeing the concerned look on her face, he tried to deny his own worries for her sake. “What? O-oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong at all.” 

After avoiding the many footsteps of the populace, the mice finally caught up to their human companions. Brain immediately read the distress in Quasi’s facial features. 

“What’s troubling you, Quasi?” The shorter mouse inquired. 

Quasi knew that he could no longer keep up his fumbling facade. “What if the baker kicks me out?”

Pinky tilted his head to the side. “Now why would he do that?”

Quasi exhaled and simply waved his hand over his face, hoping that Pinky would get the picture. “Ohh,” the lanky mouse replied, feeling rather sullen by Quasi’s answer. 

“Quasi, I doubt that any sane businessman would want to refuse potential customers,” Brain argued. 

“But even then still, what if I accidentally say the wrong thing, o-or offend him in any way?” Quasi blurted out honestly. At that moment, he felt Esmeralda gently hold his hand once more. She gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze, for which he was grateful. 

Pinky decided to dole out his own brand of wisdom. “Well…if the conversation does go sour, you can always add some sugar to make things sweeter! I’m sure the baker would be glad to loan some to us. Troz!” 

Brain gave Pinky an exasperated look, deciding to indulge his friend’s inanity with a sarcastic retort. “Yes, Pinky. You can always dump a cupful of sugar onto the group of people partaking in a discussion.” 

“Oh don’t be silly Brain, you only need a spoonful of sugar!” Pinky chirped as he gestured the size with his fingers. “It always helps the medicine go down. Zort!” 

“Pinky, you have the makings of a village idiot.” Brain bluntly remarked. 

“Oh, thanks Brain,” Pinky cooed, failing to read Brain’s sarcasm that dripped like molasses. “I’d love to work in that profession, but there haven’t been any job postings for ages!”

Quasi and Esmeralda silently exchanged befuddled glances as they listened in on the mice’s conversation.

Brain grumbled, finding that there was no sense in indulging Pinky’s inane conversation. Instead, he shifted his focus back to the bellringer. “Quasi, don’t you remember how confident you were becoming at the art stall and interacting with all those customers?” 

Quasi nodded, seeing where Brain was going with this. “So it’s just like that?”

“Exactly!” Brain exclaimed. “But in this instance, it would be a role reversal since you are now the customer looking to spend money for a specific service provided by a professional.” 

“That…that makes sense.” Quasi agreed. 

“And we’ll be right by your side,” Esmeralda assured with a smile. 

Quasi was grateful for everyone’s support but was especially taken aback by Esmeralda’s encouragement. Though he could not find it in him to speak his appreciativeness, he simply smiled back at her. 

The mice smiled at their human companions, but the mood was interrupted when Pinky heard his stomach growl. 

Brain’s ears twitched. “Now let’s go grab some nourishment,” he announced. “Pinky gets very cranky when he doesn’t eat, and I doubt that you two want to experience that first hand.” 

Pinky suddenly became offended at the statement. “I do not! Zort!” 

Brain gestured towards Pinky when he spoke to his human friends. “Do you see what I mean?” 

With that said, Quasi scooped up the mice into his hands while Esmeralda told Djali to wait patiently while she and her friends went to buy food. Once the group reconvened, they entered the bakery. The inside of the establishment was empty save for the stocky, middle-aged man in a muted brown hooded tunic and hose who prepared the next batch of bread from behind the counter. 

“Good afternoon,” The Baker greeted, but the moment he caught a glimpse at Quasimodo, he stumbled backward and into the shelf. “Mon Dieu!” 

“Don’t be alarmed,” Brain announced. “My redheaded friend only wishes to become a loyal customer.”

“I thought the stories of the demonic bellringer were just that!” The Baker exclaimed as he searched in his pockets. “Now I thought I had that rosary here somewhere…” 

Esmeralda furrowed her brows at the man. “I’m sorry, but is this the way you talk to your patrons?”

“You know,” Brain said cooly. “We could always take our business elsewhere.” 

The Baker raised his eyes at the megalomaniacal mouse. “Oh, no!”

At that moment, Quasi decided to speak for himself. “Y-Yes, w-well we wish to buy some of your finest bread.” He told the Baker. He glanced over at Esmeralda, who smiled encouragingly at him. 

Feeling slightly more confident in himself, Quasi smiled back before facing the Baker. “Do you have any recommendations?”

The Baker’s apprehension seemed to disappear when he heard the bell ringer speak. “It’s not often that folks ask for my opinion when it comes to my own creations,” he replied, feeling humbled by the bellringer’s question. “But since you asked, I’m very fond of the croissants.” 

Pinky gasped. “Oh Brain, they sell croissants here!” Even Brain was surprised that Pinky of all people correctly pronounced the French baked goods. 

Quasi smiled at Pinky’s excitement over croissants, and in all honesty, he couldn’t blame him. He could recall many mornings when Quasi received two or three croissants in the breakfast basket Frollo bestowed onto him, along with some bacon, honey, and the occasional strawberries. Although Frollo oftentimes made Quasi wait for his food in an effort to teach him patience or had to earn it by reciting what he had learned, Quasi did not want to put Pinky through the same turmoil. 

“I’ll buy three croissants then. One for me, and you guys can split one,” he told the mice. “A-And did you want one, Esmeralda?” 

“I can pay for my own things, but I appreciate the gesture,” Esmeralda said sweetly. 

“I’ll also purchase a baguette as well to have for later,” Quasi added, noting that he needed to purchase some extra groceries. 

The Baker gathered the items onto the counter. “Alright, the two croissants, and the baguette, that comes to seven sou.” 

As Quasi gathered his coins from his purse and gave the baker the exact amount of money. 

Esmeralda approached the counter. “I’m just going to have a loaf of brown bread.” She said as she fished out her coins and handed them over to the Baker. 

Once they exited the bakery, Quasi sighed as he looked over at Esmeralda. “Thank you,” he breathed. “F-For staying with me back there, and standing up for me…” 

“Of course, my friend,” Esmeralda replied. “I’m an outcast too, and I know how harsh people can be towards those who are different. But things shouldn’t have to be that way.” 

Quasi was at a loss for words. He never thought that he could find someone else who also related to his struggles of not fitting in with the rest of society. 

The mice observed the intimate conversation between the two humans. Brain especially felt the desire to speak of his experiences of being marginalized by the dominant species that ruled the Earth. 

“Well, Pinky and I are also outcasts.” Brain declared as he pulled Pinky by his side. “We’ve been experimented on by the scientists at the apothecary and have been fodder in the name of scientific progress. But even still, we have been pushed around by the other humans because of our diminutive statures.” 

“So how did you two know Quasi anyway?” Esmeralda inquired. 

“We actually just met a few days ago!” Pinky answered. “Brain and I were in need of a new home and Quasi heard our pleas and took us in! And he even allowed us to stay in the belltower as he gave us food and these lovely capes!” 

“Quasi is the first person to accept us unconditionally and we are proud to be his friends.” Brain added with a fond smile. 

The group strolled down the street together, looking for a place to relax and eat. Thankfully they found an open spot on the stone bridge that arched across the Seine. Once they were seated, Quasi placed the basket containing his leftover figurines to his left before placing the mice down over to his right. Djali trotted over to the basket and sniffed curiously. Thankfully, Quasi caught wind of what the goat was up to and snatched the basket before he could consume another figurine. 

“I believe you already ate one too many of my figures,” Quasi jokingly chastised Djali, who stuck out his tongue in response.

Esmeralda’s eyes sparkled with interest. “May I see them?” 

Quasi glanced at the basket for a moment and then dared lift his gaze at her. “O-Of course,”

The bellringer gently gave her the basket. Esmeralda lifted the cloth covering to find an array of different figurines of the various citizens that resided in Paris. 

Esmeralda studied the baker, noting how intricately detailed the figure was, from his jolly expression to his attire. She grabbed a figure of the blacksmith and inspected the weathered metalworker. 

“Did you make these yourself?” Esmeralda inquired. 

Quasi nodded his head, feeling shy one more. “I did,” he answered quietly. 

Esmeralda smiled. “You have a marvelous gift, Quasi,” she complimented. 

Quasi instinctively ran his hand through his hair. “Thanks, but it’s mainly a hobby that I enjoy doing,” 

From the sidelines, Pinky and Brain witnessed the sweet conversation. Pinky felt his heart soar, hoping that their budding friendship could turn into something more. Brain, however, was simply content to see that Quasi was forging a bond with another human outside of the cathedral. The megalomaniac was also grateful that Djali did not seem interested in eating him or Pinky.

Unlike the others, Djali was becoming bored. He noticed his beloved owner holding two appetizing-looking treats and decided to make his move. Djali propped his front hooves on the stone seat, but Esmeralda frowned. 

“Djali!” She chided. 

“Is your goat always this mischievous?” Quasi asked. 

“Only when he’s hungry,” Esmeralda answered. 

Djali let out a bleating in protest. 

Esmeralda carefully placed the figures back into the basket. “So, shall we eat?” 

“Absolutely,” Quasi agreed. 

Esmeralda took the bread from her basket. She then lifted her skirt to retrieve the small dagger that was secured by her right leg. 

Quasi raised his brow with concern. “Is it normal to be armed at all times?”

Esmeralda looked over at Quasi, noting the curiosity in his voice. “It certainly helps,” she replied as she sliced the end of the loaf and fed it to Djali. She then focused on cutting a piece of bread for herself. “I’ve come across a lot of sketchy characters in my travels, and I learned to defend myself in case anyone cruel tried to harm me.” 

The bellringer nodded as he listened to her story. But he then felt a forceful tug on his sleeve only to find a very grumpy Pinky waiting for his meal.

“Right,” Quasi muttered as he took out the third croissant, broke it in half, and gave it to the mice. Pinky eagerly accepted his portion and Brain nodded gratefully as he took his bread. 

After Pinky consumed a decent-sized morsel of his bread, he looked up at the redheaded man with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry for acting so grumpy,” he said ruefully. 

Quasi smiled at Pinky and proceeded to gently stroke the top of his head with his finger. “That’s alright, Pinky,” he replied. The young man heard the taller mouse hum gently at the affectionate gesture. 

The bellringer then focused on his own meal. He inspected the soft and flaky croissant, which felt a bit different from the ones Frollo would normally give him. Quasi then took a small bite of his croissant and smiled contentedly. After he chewed and swallowed it, he spoke up. “This is very good!” 

Esmeralda smiled back at Quasi. “I’m glad you like it.” 

The bellringer became silent as he basked in his surroundings. He inspected the croissant in his hand, listening to the shouts and scolds of the other Parisians, and taking in the general ambiance of the city street. He never imagined that he could experience something so normal, let alone be surrounded by good friends to share the moment with. He could feel two tears of joy emerging from his eyes and cascading down his face. 

Esmeralda and the mice looked up at their friend with great concern. “Quasi, what’s wrong?” The dancer asked. 

The bellringer noticed the tears that fell. He even saw Pinky removing his red cloak and offering it as a handkerchief. Quasi smiled as he accepted the sweet gesture from the kind-hearted mouse and wipe away the tears. 

After returning the cloak to Pinky, Quasi swung his legs back and forth as he began to muse. “You know, I never thought I would be able to enjoy what most people deem as mundane. Strolling outside, buying food from the marketplace, even just talking to the three of you…well four of you, if we’re counting the goat.” 

Djali gave the bellringer a small bleat, grateful to feel included. 

Quasi took a deep breath and continued. “But after being cooped up in the bell tower for about twenty years, I never realized what I’ve been missing out on…” 

Esmeralda’s eyes widened at Quasi’s declaration. “You lived in the cathedral your whole life?” 

Quasi looked up at Esmeralda. He stared into her bright green eyes, noting the concern and compassion radiating from them, and was compelled to answer. “Y-Yes. I was abandoned as an infant and was taken in by my master, Judge Frollo, and he kept me in the bell tower for my own protection.” 

Esmeralda was unable to hide her disgust when she heard the name ‘Frollo’ escape the bellringer’s lips. Though she had recently moved to Paris, she had heard countless stories of Frollo’s tyranny over the city and his targeted attacks against her people. But it wasn’t until about two weeks into her stay that she realized how vile Frollo was. 

October 15th, 1481

The sun had already set as Esmeralda walked through the city, feeling satisfied after a good day of dancing. She was not approached by any soldiers or revelers. However, she did notice a stone-faced man clad in black throughout her shift, gazing at her with an expressionless stare. 

The woman was certainly aware that she was alone. Many of the people were either at their homes or had convened in the local taverns. And poor Djali was recovering from an injured leg. Though she was new to the city, she learned the layout of the land fairly quickly thanks to the woven amulet Clopin provided her with. 

She turned a street corner when she saw the same man who had stared at her earlier now riding on a black horse. 

Frollo hopped off of his horse and approached Esmeralda. “I know what you are,” he seethed as he circled around her. “You and the other gypsy vermin have plagued this city with your wicked treachery for far too long. Clouding their minds of sin and depravity.” 

He yanked her by her waist and pulled her close. Esmeralda struggled as she tried to liberate herself form his grasp. 

“However, there is an opportunity for your salvation,” the Judge menacingly asserted. His gloved hand crawled over to her waist.

Esmeralda gritted at the disgusting action. Using the heel of her foot, she rammed it into the judge’s right shin. Once she heard him shout in pain, She turned around and kicked him in the groin before making her escape with her beloved goat. 

Esmeralda never ran faster in all her life as she escaped the sinister clutches of the corrupt minister of justice. 

The dancer looked back at Quasi, who was certainly the gentlest and kindest person she ever met. So the fact that he was raised by the foul and heartless judge was baffling, to say the least. 

“I don’t get it,” She confessed as she shook her head. “How could someone so cruel have raised someone as kind as you?”

Quasi raised his brow at the remark. “Cruel?” 

Pinky stepped in. “But Quasi, that Frollo made you recite that horrible, no-good alphabet and he called you a monster when you’re obviously not!” 

“And not to mention how he essentially stole your independence by keeping you isolated in the cathedral.” Brain argued as he crossed his arms. 

“But he saved my life!” Quasi argued. “He accepted me when anyone else could have drowned me, o-or left me for dead…and told me I’m a monster because and I know that I could never fit in with the rest of society because of my appearance…” 

Esmeralda felt sympathetic for Quasimodo’s plight, but she also felt a sense of empathy for being deemed an outcast by the rest of the population. 

“Quasi, I know how it feels to not fit in as well,” Esmeralda told him. “I’m Romani, and my people and I have struggled to find acceptance not only here, but throughout the rest of France. Many of us are unable to find stable employment and housing, with many people calling us “treacherous gypsies” and accusing us of things like “casting spells and curses onto others”. And because we live on the fringes of society, we have to resort to busking on the streets or begging just to get by.” 

Quasimodo listened to Esmeralda intently, absorbing the information like a sponge. While he was well-aware of the plight of the poor, from both his observations from the belltower and listening in to the sermons during mass from above the nave. But the information Esmeralda relayed to him heavily contrasted Frollo’s occasional teachings. 

“Remember, Quasimodo” Frollo informed his ward as they watched the many citizens in the town square. “The gypsies are pure evil and are known for their treachery. Clouding the feeble minds of the peasantry with their wild and licentious displays, causing them to choose the path of sin. They are a blight upon this world, but rest assured, I will find a way to smite the wicked and restore justice and decency to Paris.” 

Quasi blinked, feeling the conflict between his master’s stern teachings and his friend’s plight. “B-B-But I thought that the gypsies were…” he paused as he looked at Esmeralda and the mice, feeling unsure of himself, before glancing downward. “...evil…” 

Esmeralda raised her brow. Normally when people would insult her status as a Romani woman, they would do so by showing their disdain by shouting or hushed murmuring. But Quasi seemed very uneasy, not wanting to believe what he just said. She could read the emotions on Quasi’s face and could find no trace of malice. Despite having a bigoted guardian, she could tell that Quasi was a kind and gentle soul. 

“And I’m assuming Frollo told you that?” Esmeralda asked. 

Quasi looked up at Esmeralda once more and nodded. 

“Much like how he told you that you are a monster when you’re clearly not?” She added. 

“Now let’s not fool ourselves here, it’s abundantly clear that I’m a monster,” Quasi argued. “Anyone could tell that just by looking at me,” 

Esmeralda sighed as she looked down, trying to figure out a way to lift his spirits and prove to him that what Frollo said about him was wrong. More importantly, she wanted to convince Quasimodo that he was only human. 

“Hey Quasi, can you give me your hand?” She asked. 

The bellringer was surprised by the question. He looked to his own hands, which were much larger than that of any normal hand and callused by years of ringing the bells. But Quasi was curious as to what Esmeralda was up to, so he gave her his left hand. The dancer gently laid her left hand under his hand and placed her index finger above his palm. Quasi glanced over to the mice, who seemed just as confused as he was. 

“So what exactly are you doing?” Quasi asked quietly. 

“Palm reading,” Esmeralda answered. “Although I have to warn you it’s been years since I’ve done it, so forgive me if I’m a bit rusty.” 

“Palmistry? Bah!” Brain barked in disbelief. “Why that’s just some ludicrous pseudoscience-”

“Shhh, Brain, this is very important!” Pinky indignantly shushed Brain by placing his index finger on his companion’s lips. Although Brain wanted to argue the fundamental flaws of palm reading, the megalomaniac was too stunned by both Pinky’s surprising assertiveness and his finger pressed close to his face to give his rebuttal. Instead of retaliating, the smaller mouse decided to drop his criticisms right then and there.

Esmeralda carefully inspected Quasimodo’s palm, taking careful note of the lines. “Alright, so your lifeline here suggests that you are bound to live a life full of vitality and zest.” She explained as she showed him the cress on his hand. Esmeralda continued forth by reading the line in the center of his palm. “And this one right here means that you’re open-minded, curious, and you’re stance changes once you receive new information. The line right below that means that you’re shy but very friendly and that you’ll form many strong, long-lasting relationships.” 

Esmeralda then clasped her hands on Quasimodo’s, giving him a confident smile. “There! There’s nothing in your lines that indicate that you’re a monster. From what I can gather, you’re a kind and intelligent young man.” 

Quasi stared at Esmeralda, feeling humbled by her declaration. “That’s…very generous of you to say, Esmeralda.” 

“I’m saying this because it’s true, Quasi,” Esmeralda reassured as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

Pinky looked at his own hands and felt very concerned. “Hey Esmeralda, could you read me and Brain’s hands, please?” 

Esmeralda and Quasi exchanged glances, clearly endeared by Pinky’s request, and smiled back at the mice. 

Quasi allowed Pinky and Brain on his hand as he guided them over to Esmeralda. She decided to give Pinky his reading first since he was the most excited by the prospect of having his palms read. After careful inspection, she told him his readings. 

Esmeralda closely examined Pinky’s palm for about a minute before delivering the reading to the eager mouse. “So this line right near your thumb means you're enthusiastic. And the line right above it indicates that you have a short attention span.”

“Poit! What did you say?” Pinky asked, looking rather confused. 

Brain rolled his eyes. “Just go on,” 

Esmeralda then motioned for Pinky to look at the top line. “And this line right here means that you fall in love quickly and deeply.” 

Pinky’s blue eyes widened as he gazed at his hand. “ Naaarf .” 

“Do you still want your palm read, Brain?” Quasi asked in a semi-teasing tone.

Brain exasperatedly extended his hand, wanting the dancer to get his reading over with. He certainly had more important things to do than having his fortune read. Esmeralda’s eyes narrowed as she inspected the small hand. “Well, it seems you are ambitious and think rationally, and your heart is easily broken.” 

Brain’s stony expression softened as he heard his readings. 

“And your fate line seems to be prone to change,” Esmeralda noted. 

“How so?” Brain curiously inquired. 

Esmeralda hummed to herself while she pondered for an answer. “There may come a time where you may have to sacrifice your own dreams for the needs of others.” 

Brain stared at his hand. There is no way he could ever forsake his desire for world domination, but the thought of having to sacrifice his hard work was quite frustrating. He had enough of his string of failures and was determined to achieve his goal, no matter the cost. 

Esmeralda turned her attention to Quasimodo, giving him her right hand. “Now it’s your turn to read my hand.” Quasi was reluctant at first, but he gently accepted the gesture. He stared at her hand, noting how small it was compared to his own.

“Do you think I’m evil?” He heard her ask. 

Quasi’s brows furrowed as though he took offense to such a question. 

“You’re not evil, Esmeralda,” Quasi replied as he carefully held her hand. “You are kind and good, and…” 

The bellringer glanced up at Esmeralda and then over to the mice. The three of them had been the first people outside of the cathedral to not only accept him, but they challenged the hard lessons Frollo had instilled in him. Then he finally put two and two together. 

“a-and maybe, I’m not a monster after all.” 

Esmeralda was taken aback by the sweetness of his response. She was so used to the insults and derogatory labels thrown at her that any genuine compliments given to her were few and far between. But it was the sheer kindness in his voice that moved her. Esmeralda gazed into Quasi’s soft green eyes. She knew that Quasi had his share of scorn thrown at him due to his appearance, and she could guess that growing up under Frollo’s so-called care had stunted his self-worth. So to hear him deny what his guardian spewed at him was something of a small triumph. 

She gently placed her free hand on top of Quasi’s and smiled. 

The mice also felt elation from hearing Quasi defy Frollo’s teachings. It was immensely satisfying to watch their friend become more confident with each day. If fortune remained by their side, perhaps Quasi would liberate himself from his guardian’s iron clutches and become an independent man. 

Quasi looked to the sky only to see that the sun was starting to face the west. He immediately remembered his promise to ring the Nones. 

“I-I’m sorry Esmeralda, but I must return to the bell tower at once!” Quasi stammered as he gathered his belongings. “I-It was nice to spend the afternoon with you, and I would love to do this again.” 

Esmeralda smiled sweetly at him. “So would you like to meet up again tomorrow around noon?” 

“Of course!” Quasi blurted. 

“Great!” Esmeralda exclaimed. She then leaned in and gave Quasi a soft peck on his left cheek. 

Quasi stood in shock. He never thought the day would come in which he would receive such a touching gesture of affection. 

“Hey, don’t forget about your figures!” Esmeralda said as she lifted his basket. 

Quasi immediately returned to reality and hastily retrieved his spare figurines from the dancer. “Thanks again,” the young man nervously replied. “And I’m sorry for taking away your treats, Djali,” 

The goat rolled his eyes as the young man softly patted his head as an apology. But Djali was pleased with the head pats and accepted the apology with a soft bleat. 

Esmeralda couldn’t help but laugh. “See you later, Quasi.” 

The bellringer smiled upon hearing her light-hearted laugh reach his ears. “See you soon, Esmeralda.” Quasi replied while nodding his head. With the turn of his heels, he began his trek to Notre Dame.

Quasi strolled down the street while Pinky and Brain were seated comfortably in his hands. His steps felt lighter as if he was walking on air. The shouts from the other Parisians seemed to disappear. He did not even bother to readjust his blue hood to cover his face for the kiss he received seemed to overpower his self-consciousness. 

But as Quasi continued to venture towards the cathedral, he could not help but ponder over the cheek-kiss Esmeralda gave him. He wondered what compelled her to give someone like him such a loving gesture. Growing up, Frollo never gave him any form of affection stronger than a mere pat on the head or touching his face when he lectured him. The Archdeacon and Jean were far more generous as they usually hugged him before leaving the bell tower. The other monks who he happened to encounter, though as kind as they were, respectfully kept their distance. In his years of watching over the city, Quasi had seen mothers kiss their children on their cheeks as well as couples sneaking in a peck on the cheek during their nightly strolls by the Seine. He could not help but wonder about the meaning behind the action and when doing so would be appropriate. 

“Can I ask you two a question?” He inquired. 

“So what’s on your mind, my friend?” Brain asked even though he could obviously tell how smitten the bellringer was with the dancer. 

“Do friends…often give each other kisses and hold hands, o-or is that mainly something that only couples do?” 

Pinky and Brain stared at one another, both of them befuddled by the question. Such a simple inquiry prompted the mice to ponder deeply over their relationship status. Pinky was always quick to hug Brain, though the latter was very reluctant to express any form of affection unless he felt immensely compelled in certain circumstances. As much as Pinky wanted to shower Brain with kisses, he knew that it would make his friend far too uncomfortable since he usually seemed so grumpy with the hugs. Brain became incredibly bashful after thinking about the covert kiss he gave to Pinky’s nose. He could not begin to think about how Pinky would react to such a gesture. Would Pinky recoil with disgust? Mock him for his mawkish sentiment? Either way, Brain would kiss their friendship goodbye. 

“Well, friends sometimes hold hands,” Pinky began. Brain was shocked by the honesty of his answer. “It’s almost like giving your hand a big hug, right Brain?”

Brain blinked in surprise. “Oh, that’s right Pinky. It’s often a sign of trust and closeness.”

“Poit! And I’m sure that they sometimes kiss each other,” The taller mouse added. 

“In most cultures, cheek-kissing is a normal form of greeting one’s friends,” Brain explained as eloquently as he could. “And rejecting such a gesture would be considered rude.” 

Quasi listened intently to the mice’s answers. “So do you believe I should return the kiss the next time I see her?” 

“I-I don’t think that would be the wisest course of action,” Brain advised. “You just met Esmeralda, and it would be incredibly foolish to try and rush things with her to the point of ultimately ruining any chance of forming a lasting connection with her. It’s far more important to forge a strong friendship anyway.” 

Now Brain felt as though he needed to heed the advice he was giving to Quasi. Heaven knows that he had to preserve his friendship with Pinky by any means necessary. 

Pinky felt his ears droop at Brain’s explanation. He loved Brain for so long and now he began to wonder if maybe Brain would stop being friends with him if he decided to confess his feelings to him. The thought of not being Brain’s friend was a devastating one. 

The taller mouse looked up at Quasi, who listened intently to his shorter friend. But he wanted to chime in and help out the best he could. 

“And loving someone as a friend is just as good! Narf!” Pinky declared. 

Quasi nodded as he heeded the mice’s sage advice. There was no doubt that he began to feel strong affection for Esmeralda. And it seemed that she genuinely cared for him by how she treated him with kindness. But Quasi was already aware of the doubt that crept in. He learned from a young age that no one would ever dare love someone as ugly as him, and even the times he did feel infatuation in his youth had burst when Frollo caught him in the act. But his rodent friends did not shame him for having such feelings for someone else. Instead, they gave him some much-needed advice like any good friend would. 

The bellringer took a deep breath. Maybe it would be for the best if he focused on creating a lasting friendship with Esmeralda. If his infatuation with her grew, perhaps he would find some way to navigate through them. For now, the love of a friend was all that he needed. 

“Thanks for the advice you guys,” Quasi said gratefully. 

The trio entered the now busy cathedral. Quasi noticed the shocked faces of many parishioners, but he did not seem to care. Brain and Pinky looked out and marveled at the colorful stained glass windows and marble statues that filled the church with such majesty. The bellringer walked along the tiled floors, his limp feeling lighter now that he had comforted by the sage words from his friends. He entered through the door and began to climb steps to the bell tower so he could enchant the citizens of Paris with the sound of his beloved bells. 

Esmeralda and Djali walked together along the Seine. Having earned enough coins from her dancing, she opted to return to the Court of Miracles. The dancer took out the woven band she wore around her neck, inspecting the small map of the city. The only notable feature of the map outside of the river and the red spot that represented the court was the small blue cross that was the indicator of Notre Dame. 

Looking over her shoulder, Esmeralda gazed at the grand cathedral and immediately thought of Quasi. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what it must have been like to live in the church and be raised by Judge Frollo. It must not have been without its obstacles. However, Quasi had shown her nothing but kindness and possessed a gentle disposition that she found endearing. 

Even now she had found herself smiling as she thought of her new friend. 

From a young age, Esmeralda learned that the world has its share of darkness and light. While there were many people consumed by cruelty, there are others who displayed compassion, and Quasi seemed to embody many of humanity’s more admirable attributes. A good friend seemed hard to come by these days, and Esmeralda was determined to forge a strong bond with the bellringer. 

But Djali’s bleats took her out of her musings. “What is it, boy?” She asked as she turned around. However, she saw a hauntingly familiar sight of the blonde soldier from her past. 

Now donning a golden armor and blue cape, Phoebus led his white horse by the reins. “So Achilles, do you think I should wear my purple vest again?” The soldier asked his faithful steed. 

The horse merely snorted in response, causing Phoebus to let out a dejected sigh. “Maybe I am thinking too hard about my wardrobe.” 

Esmeralda stood slack-jawed. She could not believe that the man she had loved so long ago and presumed dead was alive and well. 

“Phoebus?” 

The blonde captain stopped in his tracks when he heard her voice. He looked up at the dancer and was equally shocked by the revelation. “Esmeralda?” 

She never thought that she would ever hear that voice say her name again. Tears began to emerge from the corners of her eyes as Esmeralda instinctively sprinted towards her beloved soldier. 

Phoebus let go of Achille’s reins and ran towards Esmeralda before catching her in his arms. “Oh Esmeralda, it’s a miracle!” He cried out. “I never thought I would see you again!” 

Esmeralda felt limp in the captain’s hug. She was rendered speechless by the sudden reunion. Phoebus gently rubbed her back as tears of joy fell down her face. 

Once she gained enough composure, Esmeralda finally spoke up. “I’d thought I lost you.” 

She felt Phoebus’s arms tighten harder. “There had been a few close calls in Burgundy, but I’m still here.”

Esmeralda exhaled and pressed her face as close to his chest. She did not need to hear more about the war. She was just glad that she could hold him again. 

“It’s been far too long since we last met,” Esmeralda said softly. 

The soldier gave a small chuckle. “Agreed.” 

The two held each other in a strong embrace while the bells of Notre Dame tolled. 

Chapter Text

After their reunion on the bridge, Esmeralda and Phoebus strolled through the city together, chatting away as if they had never left. Esmeralda had informed him of how she traveled around France before settling in Paris, while Phoebus mentioned his duties as a soldier and his recent promotion to Captain of the Parisian Guards. The lovers eventually arrived at the stable, which was conveniently located near Notre Dame. Phoebus led Achilles to his box stall for the night. After securing the door, he looked over to see Esmeralda leaning against the wall with a gentle smile on her face. He never thought that he would live to see the day that he would be reunited with his beloved once more.

“So Are you doing anything tonight?” Esmeralda asked casually.

Phoebus’s smile faltered a bit. “Actually, I promised to meet up with a friend and head to one of the taverns.” 

“Oh,” Esmeralda muttered, feeling a wave of disappointment. “I suppose I’ll let you have your fun with one of your fellow soldiers.” 

“Actually, he’s not a soldier,” Phoebus quickly corrected. “He’s a kind, but rather shy artist named Quasimodo, and-” 

“You know Quasi too?!” Esmeralda exclaimed. 

Phoebus grinned. “As a matter of fact I do,” he said confidently. “How did you know him?” 

“Djali ate one of his figures,” Esmeralda answered as she shook her head, to which her goat merely grunted. “Thankfully, Quasi has the patience of a saint and didn’t mind one bit. You know, in all my years of traveling across France, I don’t think I’ve met anyone as sweet and gentle as he is.” 

Phoebus smiled, glad to learn that Esmeralda’s experience with Quasi was a pleasant one and that Quasi had made another friend. 

Esmeralda then fiddled with her hands. 

“Is something wrong?” The captain asked. 

Esmeralda looked up, feeling anxious knots in her stomach tightening. “I suppose I should tell you this now,” she began. “But earlier today I kissed his cheek.” 

The dancer looked up at her beau, who now appeared both surprised and curious by her confession. “Really?” Phoebus asked in a gentle tone.

“I don’t know what compelled me to do so,” Esmeralda explained in earnest. “I was just so endeared by how sweet and kind he is, and I haven’t had a positive connection like that in a long time.”

Phoebus listened intently. When he was fighting in Burgundy, he had been bombarded with the thought of Esmeralda moving on, regardless of whether or not he died in battle. And he had accepted that scenario long ago. She was an independent woman who could hold her own. But even if she had found someone else to love, he was fine with that so long as that person treated her with dignity and respect. Having been acquainted with Quasi, Phoebus strangely did not oppose the idea of the two of them forming a romantic relationship. If he had not returned from the wars unscathed, he would not have minded Esmeralda moving on with Quasi as her new partner. 

Esmeralda looked askance at the floor after making her confession. But she felt a pair of gloved hands carefully holding hers. 

“It’s fine, Esmeralda,” Phoebus soothed, gently tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Esmeralda stared at her beau’s deep brown eyes and felt the weight of anxiety being lifted from her shoulders. 

“I mean, neither of us would have thought that we’d see each other again,” Phoebus mentioned. 

Esmeralda nodded. “You’ve got a point there.” 

“And Quasi’s a good guy,” Phoebus casually added. “So I don’t see the problem.”

Esmeralda stared at Phoebus, studying his face only to find no trace of jealousy or disgust. She valued his honesty and sincerity, and she was immensely grateful that he did not show her displays of affection to a man they both held in high regard. 

“Thanks, Phoebus,” she said. She received a quick kiss from the soldier in response. 

But then the captain thought of a brilliant idea. “You know, something tells me that Quasi might not mind some extra company during our excursion.” He said as he draped his arm around her. 

Esmeralda pondered over this offer. “And you’re certain that he’ll be alright with this last-minute decision?” 

“Of course!” Phoebus reassured. “You and I can catch up in a public setting without arousing suspicion, we’ll be better acquainted with Quasi, and if, God forbid, anything were to happen to him, he’ll be glad to have two people on his side…” 

Esmeralda smiled upon hearing his argument. She remembered those awful young lads who harassed the bellringer. She also was well aware of how rough and rowdy taverns could get. But she would gladly accompany her friend and defend his honor if need be. 

“...assuming you still know how to properly fight.” Phoebus joked. 

Esmeralda frowned at the captain’s playful jest and left his side. The dancer grabbed a nearby shovel and, using the handle, she roughly hit him in the chest. Phoebus was caught off-guard and grunted at the attack as he fell back to the wall. He then felt his chin tilted upwards by the shovel as Esmeralda smiled smugly at him. 

“Alright, you still got it,” Phoebus admitted. 

“I thought so.” Esmeralda boasted, her eyes sparkling with confidence. 

Phoebus continued to look up at her in adoration. Good Lord, he missed this amazing woman. 

Sunlight poured through the bell tower as Quasi, Pinky, and Brain finished creating the latest batch of Noodle Noggin toys. Thirty-four wooden mouse figures stood tall on the table, and only seventeen have been painted. Quasi was quick to carve each Noodle Noggin doll while Pinky and Brain worked diligently as they painted each figure. Pinky happily dabbed his paintbrush into the white jar before giving his figure another coat of paint. Brian used a smaller brush to delicately apply pink paint to the eyes. The megalomaniac smiled contentedly at his work before painting the ears. 

Quasi smiled contentedly as watched the mice work together in companionable silence. Despite their contrasting personalities, the mismatched duo seemed to be quite compatible. He looked back at the newly carved Noodle Noggin figure in his hand. The bell ringer inspected the doll with a careful eye, making sure that he remembered all of the little details. Quasi noticed that the jagged edges of the tail were too sharp and immediately smoothed them out.

He then placed the doll on the table among the others.  Everything about it seemed perfect, but he felt like something was missing. 

He glanced over to see Pinky happily painting alongside Brain, who allowed a gentle smile to cross his face. It was the quiet contentment of the mice that sparked the artist’s creativity. 

“Does it ever occur to you two how lonely Noodle Noggin is?” Quasi asked aloud. 

Pinky dropped his paintbrush. The taller mouse approached the doll and tilted his head. “He seems like he could use a friend. Narf!” 

Brain stared at the doll and then back at Pinky, and immediately caught on. “That’s brilliant! Pinky, Quasi, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” The megalomaniac inquired his friends.

“I think so, Brain,” Pinky began as he scratched his head. “But who in their right mind would cast Russell Crow for the role of the singing police inspector?” 

Brain’s face scrunched at the response, not surprised by the inane sentence that came out of Pinky’s mouth. 

Quasi thought for a moment before giving his answer. “You want to create wooden replicas of Pinky to sell alongside the Noodle Noggin dolls, and make even more money for the art stall.” 

“Yeeesss!” Brain cheered, happily raising his fists in the air. The mouse gazed at the bell ringer with tears of joy in his eyes. “That was precisely what I was pondering!” He then noticed the tears that fell and immediately wiped them away. “My apologies, I got a little overwhelmed with emotion there. After dealing with an imbecile on a daily basis for years, it’s nice to be in the company of a fellow genius.” 

Quasi couldn’t help but smile at Brain’s compliment. He then turned his attention over to Pinky, motioning for him to come closer. 

“Hey Pinky, would you be so kind as to be my model?” Quasi inquired as he picked up his carving knife. 

Pinky’s eyes lit up with joy. “You mean I finally get to strut down the runway!” 

Brain pinched his brows and groaned. “No Pinky, Quasi needs you to be his art model.” 

“Oh, an art model.” Pinky nodded in understanding. However, the mouse proceeded to pull off his tunic, tossing it over Brain’s head. The megalomaniac quickly peeled off Pinky’s shirt and blushed once he saw his friend pulling down his hose. 

“Pinky, what in the name of Archimedes’s screw pump are you doing?” Brain yelled. 

“I just want Quasi to draw me like one of his French mice!” Pinky answered, followed by a confident “Zort!” 

“Have you no decency?” Brain inquired his companion. 

“But Brain, we’ve seen each other naked several times before, and it didn’t bother you then.” 

Brain’s cheeks flared. While it was true that the mice didn’t always wear clothes, even after their genes were spliced, Brain had soon come to the idea that creating their own attire so they could pass off as simple peasant folk would give them some modicum of dignity. While Pinky simply didn’t care about his overall appearance, Brain’s modesty and pride would not allow it. 

The shorter mouse approached his taller companion and pulled his hose back up. “Just put your clothes back on, you dunderheaded dunce!” Brain commanded as he took Pinky’s tunic and threw it. Although the article of clothing smacked Pinky square in the face, the mouse laughed at the sensation.

The bellringer gathered his carving supplies as the mouse got dressed. Quasi grabbed a small block of wood and proceeded to carve a small replica of Pinky. He made sure to add significant details to the doll, such as his buck teeth and the tussled fur on top of his head. After a few minutes, Quasi completed the wooden figure and got to painting. 

Once the wooden Pinky was complete, Quasi carefully placed it alongside one of the wooden Brain dolls. 

“Your craftsmanship continues to astound me, Quasi.” Brain complimented as he inspected the latest figure. 

“Aww, they look so happy together!” Pinky exclaimed. “Oh, if the Brain toys are called Noodle Noggin, can we name the Pinky toys Big Ears?” 

Brain rolled his eyes. “You can name them Eleanor of Aquitaine for all I care, Pinky.” 

“Big Ears and Noodle Noggin,” Quasi said aloud. “I like the sound of that!” 

The young man got up to retrieve the basket of craft supplies Frollo had so graciously given him before heading on his journey. But he was dismayed to discover that there were only a few small pieces of wood left. The jars of white and pink paint were also close to being completely empty. 

“Oh dear,” Quasi tutted. “Looks like I’m short on wood and paint.”

Brain’s ears flattened. He needed to figure out a way to keep his friend’s business afloat while still having enough money to purchase the necessary ingredients for his specialized potion. 

“I suppose we could increase the price of your finely-made figures,” Brain suggested. 

Quasi thought it over for a moment. The bellringer then looked over at the sunset and suddenly grew concerned. “Oh, dear! We have to meet Phoebus in front of the cathedral!” Quasi exclaimed. 

The mice watched as the bellringer washed his hands, dried them off, and retrieved his blue cloak from one of the gargoyles. Quasi then rushed over to the kitchen and grabbed the two finest metal thimbles that the mice could use as mugs at the tavern. With the thimbles secure in his pocket, Quasi glanced over at the balcony entryway and noticed the sun continuing to descend over the horizon.

Quasi shifted his gaze over at the wooden stairwell. He could go down the tower steps, but he was afraid that it would take up too much time. The last thing he wants is to keep Phoebus waiting. He turned around to see the glistening rays of sunlight stretching into the loft from the balcony door. 

“Would you two be interested in climbing down the church?” Quasi asked in a playful tone, slyly smiling at the mice. 

Pinky’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Egad, that sounds like fun!” 

“That sounds like a death sentence.” Brain remarked while crossing his arms. 

Quasi exhaled. “Alright, it may sound a bit unorthodox-”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Brain interrupted, his furry brows furrowed.

“But believe me when I say that I’m quite good at navigating my way around the architecture,” Quasi explained. “Ever since I was around eight years old, I decided to venture outside and learned how to carefully climb up and down the cathedral with some assistance from the gargoyles and the saints.” 

Brain raised his eyebrow inquisitively. “But why?” 

“Mostly to fight off boredom,” Quasi answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “There’s only so much one can do in the bell tower so I had to be a bit creative on how to spend my free time.” 

Brain took a deep breath. He couldn’t help but become angrier at Frollo for imprisoning his ward and locking him away from the rest of society. But his musings were brushed aside when he felt Pinky gently touching his shoulder. 

“Oh Brain, can we please take the fun way down?” Pinky asked his smaller companion. 

Brain crossed his arms as he gazed into Pinky’s blue eyes. Although he hated climbing from tall places, he did not have the heart to deny Pinky some semblance of joy. 

“Oh, alright,” Brain relented, but he was immediately scooped up by Pinky and pulled into a loving hug. 

“Oh goodie, that is gonna be so grand!” Pinky sang as he held Brain close. “Just the three of us admiring the city view!” 

“I should have drafted a will,” Brain complained. 

Quasi chuckled as he watched the mice, knowing full well just how much Brain meant to Pinky. He knelt down and offered his open palm to the mice, and they immediately hopped on. 

“There’s no need to worry,” Quasi told the mice as they approached the balcony. “Climbing around the cathedral has been a hobby of mine for years, and I know every gargoyle, grotesque, and ledge from the back of my hand.” 

“A rather unusual hobby one has,” Brain remarked. “But then again, your guardian did deny you of a normal upbringing, so who am I to judge?” 

Pinky noticed the hesitant expression on Brain’s face and pondered how he could comfort him during the trip down. As he thought as hard as he could, he noticed his tail swishing from side and side and thought of an idea. Pinky stood closer to Brain and gently wrapped his tail around his friend’s waist. 

Brain noticed the smooth sensation across his chubby girth and noticed that Pinky had secured his tail around his waist as an extra safety measure. He looked over to his cheerful chum, who gave him a reassuring smile. Touched by the sentiment, Brain gave his companion a small, grateful smile of his own. 

Quasi stood by the stone railing and assessed his surroundings. He could easily hop over the railing and slide down the stone column and then climb down the left side of the building. Once  He had done this trek several times before, but he knew to be extra careful since he had company. 

“Alright guys,” Quasi addressed the mice as he placed them on top of his red hair. “Just hold on and we’ll be down in no time.” 

Brain instinctively held onto Pinky as Quasi vaulted from the balcony. The bellringer deftly grabbed onto the stone railing, pushing himself downward. While in midair, he managed to catch the pillar with his feet, followed by his hands. 

Brain tightened his grip. He caught a quick glance of the city square from the top of the bellringer’s head, which only increased his anxieties.

“Egad, what a lovely view!” Pinky exclaimed. 

“Speak for yourself,” Brain quipped, trying his best to conceal his nervousness with his sardonic tone. 

“Hang on you two,” Quasi gently advised. He then allowed his feet to drop from the pillar and quickly slid down to the bottom of the colonnade. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus continued to stroll side-by-side as they journeyed toward the cathedral. 

“So how has the dancing been treating you?” The captain inquired. 

“It’s been helping me get by as always,” Esmeralda answered honestly. “Granted, I haven’t been making as much money in Paris as I had hoped. But I’ve been trying to find a second job to put bread on the table-” 

But Esmeralda glanced over at the cathedral and caught the most unusual sight. “Good gracious!” 

“Esmeralda?” Phoebus asked, but she pointed at the side of the building. 

He looked up at the church to see a familiar face climbing down the cathedral wall. Quasi swiftly ventured down the side of Notre Dame, much like a spider moved across its web. Phoebus was aware that the man lived in the church his whole life, but never did he suspect that he knew how to move around the exterior of the church. 

“Quasi?!” Phoebus exclaimed. 

“Did you know he could do that?” Esmeralda asked, her eyes still fixed on the bellringer. 

“Not until now,” Phoebus replied, his eyes glued to Quasimodo’s acrobatic abilities. 

After watching Quasi effortlessly descend down the cathedral wall, the couple exchanged shocked glances. Clearly, there was more to their soft-spoken friend than they thought. 

With a confident leap, Quasi landed on both feet next to the statue of St. Aphrodisius. He looked around to greet his stone companion. “Good evening, my friend. Lovely weather outside, isn’t it?” 

The bellringer then lifted his hand towards his head, allowing the mice to migrate over to his palm. 

Pinky was in a rather ecstatic mood. “Egad, that was a lot of fun!” He cheered. “Can we do this again?” 

Brain, on the other hand, looked as pale as snow. “Can we not do that again?” He refuted in a wavering voice. 

Quasi gazed compassionately at the smaller mouse, feeling bad for putting him through something he wasn’t comfortable with. The young man used his right thumb to gently caress Brain’s head. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Quasi softly apologized before pressing a gentle kiss against the megalomaniac’s bulbous head. 

Brain blinked. Never had he received such a compassionate gesture from another human. Surely this was a lot to take in. 

“Aww, but I want a kiss too,” Pinky whined. 

Quasi smiled playfully at the taller mouse. “Of course, how could I be so rude?” He replied as he softly kissed Pinky’s bright nose. The mouse happily giggled as he blushed and clasped his paws together. 

“Hey, Quasi!” 

The bellringer and the mice looked down to see Phoebus and Esmeralda. They were surprised that the soldier knew of the dancer, let alone brought her along for their little outing, but there was nothing wrong with some extra company. 

“Good evening,” Quasi responded. “I-I’ll be down in a moment.” 

He placed the mice back on top of his head. Once his smaller friends secured their positions, the bellringer leaped towards the rope and gracefully slid down to the cobblestone street. 

Esmeralda approached Quasi. “That was amazing!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. “You never told me that you were an acrobat!” 

Quasi’s blushed at the sudden hug and compliment. Pinky observed the stunned bellringer, attempting to contain his excitement for his lovestruck friend. 

Once the hug ended, Phoebus approached the bellringer with an eager grin. “You really know your way around the cathedral.” 

Quasi felt his face heat up once more and he instinctively rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks. I-It takes years of practice,” He humbly replied. Once Quasi gathered his bearings, he smiled at his new friends. “Anyway, it’s good to see you two again. A-And I had no idea that you’re already acquainted with each other.” 

Phoebus’s eyes widened at the comment. He then glanced over at Esmeralda. “Should we tell him?” 

“I think he deserves to know,” Esmeralda replied with a nod. 

The Captain cleared his throat. “Well Quasi, Esmeralda and I actually met a few years ago in Chartes, and fell in love.”

Quasi felt his heart drop. Any hope he had of Esmeralda liking him back was shattered. Even Pinky was devastated by the news, drooping his ears as his heart broke for his friend. 

“But I had to fight in Burgundy and we haven’t seen each other since.” Phoebus continued his explanation.

“And after he left, I didn’t feel welcome in Chartes, so I had to keep on moving in order to survive,” Esmeralda added. “I had no way of contacting Phoebus and I had no knowledge of whether or not he was still alive.” 

Brain clasped his hands together and gave the couple an inquisitive look. “Then how did you two reunite?” 

“Miraculously enough, we happened to cross paths just this afternoon on the Pont au Change,” Phoebus answered. 

“Neither of us thought we’d ever see each other again, but it’s a blessing that we somehow managed to be together once more,” Esmeralda concluded as she hugged Phoebus. 

Quasi was pummeled with a wide range of emotions. Though he was glad to be surrounded by friends, the shock from their revelation and the despair that came with heartbreak had crushed his spirit. 

But then again, should he have been so surprised? 

Quasi knew that he had no chance of ever finding someone who would love him. The previous times he felt such feelings for another ended in disaster. So once again, he had to conceal the heartbreak over a relationship that was not meant to be.

“I’m happy for you both,” Quasi quietly admitted. “Thank you for telling me.” He cast his eyes downward, feeling rather awkward. Sensing his discomfort, Pinky knelt down and patted his hand as Brain glanced up at the other two humans. The tiny megalomaniac was aware that he was not good with comforting words and silently pleaded with them to alleviate the matter. 

Fortunately, Esmeralda and Phoebus took the hint from the big-headed mouse. They carefully approached the bellringer, with the blonde giving his arm a gentle pat. 

“Of course. We trust you, Quasi,” Phoebus replied. 

“And we’re glad to have you as our friend.” Esmeralda fondly added. 

The sincerity in their voices alleviated Quasi’s woes. 

The three friends allowed their gaze to linger a little while longer. 

Brain coughed into his fist. “So, shall we begin this, in the vernacular of the commoners, fun night out with the gang?”

“O-Of course!” Quasi answered. 

“Yes,” Phoebus eagerly added. “Now let’s get going!”

The group strolled down the street. Quasi could feel the eyes of the bystanders gazing at him, but he looked over to Esmeralda and Phoebus, as he assessed his feelings over the revelation of their romantic relationship. There was no denying that Quasi was smitten with Esmeralda, even the mice knew that. But learning about her already being romantically involved was admittedly disappointing. No, he was only fooling himself by thinking that anyone else would reciprocate feelings. 

“Beautiful night out, eh Quasi?” Phoebus asked. 

The bellringer was brought out of his musings as he looked at the knight and the dancer. Their bright, sincere smiles seemed to indicate that they appreciated his company. Maybe Quasi was overthinking things. Just because his chances with a romantic relationship were now non-existent didn’t mean that his friendship with Esmeralda and Phoebus would not blossom. 

“Yeah,” Quasi replied with a small smile. “It is a beautiful night, alright.” 

Esmeralda smiled as she gently took his hand into her own. 

The bellringer looked down at his hand. He noticed that Esmeralda’s other hand was inevitably linked to Phoebus’s. Nonetheless, Quasi was grateful to feel included. 

“There you are, Esmeralda!” A dramatic voice called out. 

The group stopped to see the flamboyant Clopin standing with his arms crossed. The puppeteer wore a disappointed expression on his face as he tapped his right foot. 

“Clopin, what are you doing here?” Esmeralda asked. 

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.” Clopin retorted. 

“Oh, so you’re name is Clopin!” Pinky said. “I thought it was Chopin, but good thing that’s cleared up. Narf!” 

Clopin stared at the mice on top of the bellringer’s head. “Ah, good to see you too, you strange little man.” 

Brain rolled his eyes. “Actually, Pinky and I are genetically-altered lab mice trying to take over the world.” 

The puppeteer stood puzzled, trying to take in the statement before he responded. “I suppose everyone has their hobbies.” 

“A-Actually, monsieur, we were just going to the tavern,” Quasi answered. 

Phoebus moved over to Quasi’s side, showing his support for his friend. “Quasi, his mice friends, and I were originally going there together, but then I ran into Esmeralda, and we decided to invite her as well.” 

As the captain spoke, he gave the bellringer a gentle pat on the back. 

“And it would have been rude of me to turn down an invitation like that,” Esmeralda confidently added. 

Clopin stared at the unusual friend group and marched forward. “Esmeralda, may I have a word?” 

The dancer glanced over at her companions before relenting to Clopin’s demand. 

“Have you lost your mind?” Clopin seethed in a hushed voice. “You're associating yourself with the captain of the guards and Frollo’s loyal dog?”

“Dog?!” She shouted, feeling rather insulted. “Quasi just as human as anyone else!” 

Clopin huffed as he defensively raised his hands up. “Alright, let me rephrase that in a less offensive manner: he’s Frollo’s loyal minion.” 

At that moment Phoebus turned to Quasi. “You know Judge Frollo?” He asked, sounding very surprised. 

Quasi shrank at the question. He didn’t want to give too many details at the moment. “I-It’s a long story,” 

“Okay,” Phoebus said in understanding. Quasi was grateful that he didn’t push the subject. 

Esmeralda let out an exasperated groan. “Clopin, I get that you’re protective of our people, but Phoebus and Quasimodo aren’t bad people.” She argued. “I’ve been romantically involved with Phoebus a few years ago and we just reunited, and Quasi is a very kind and gentle gentleman.” 

Clopin felt his jaw drop at the information Esmeralda was doling out. 

“Come on, just look at them, Clopin. Do you really think they’re bad guys?” She asked in earnest. 

Phoebus and Quasi stood side by side, as the redhead now cradled the mice in his hands. Pinky had shoved his feet into his mouth, while Brain massaged his forehead in frustration. 

“I’m receiving a negative aura from the big-headed mouse,” Clopin declared. 

“Okay, Brain’s a bit grumpy, but he’s not all that bad,” Esmeralda assured the puppeteer. 

“I still have a bad feeling about this,” Clopin sourly remarked.

Esmeralda thought for a moment, hoping to diminish Clopin’s irascible mood. “Why don’t you join us for the night.” She offered. “Maybe you’ll develop a better opinion of them after a night of mead and merriment.” 

The entertainer stroked his beard as he pondered, glaring at the group and over toward Esmeralda. “Alright, I’ll join in,” Clopin surrendered. “But I want mister knight in shining armor over there to foot the bill.” 

Esmeralda did not hesitate after hearing out Clopin. “Deal.” 

Phoebus shrugged. “I was planning on treating everyone anyway,” he assured Quasi and the mice. 

“Okay boys, do you mind if Clopin came along?” 

The men and mice nodded as they expressed their approval. Esmeralda lead the gang over to the tavern entrance, with Quasi, Phoebus, and the mice in tow. 

Clopin stared at the lab mice perched in the bellringer’s hand and pondered to himself. “Two lab mice trying to take over the world…now that would make for an excellent story!” 

The moment the group entered the tavern, Quasi was stunned by the sights and sounds. The strong smell of mead, the conversations among the patrons (which ranged from hearty to profane), and the soft dim of the tallow candles brought an inviting ambiance to an otherwise boisterous establishment. 

The soft sensation of Esmeralda’s hand latching onto his large calloused hand alerted him. 

“Phoebus found an open table,” she gently told him. Quasi silently nodded as he allowed Esmeralda to lead him over to a small booth away from the rowdier part of the bar. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus took their seats first. Clopin sneaked past the bellringer and into the chair on the left side. “Age before beauty,” he teased as he secured his seat. Quasi looked to the mice, who merely shrugged in response. He brushed Clopin’s remark aside and settled into his chair. 

Not long after, a barmaid with wavy brown hair wearing a light green dress and dirty apron approached the table. 

“Welcome to the Taverne de Termites,” she greeted casually while giving the group their menus. “Can I start off with any drinks?” 

“A round of your finest mead for my friends and me.” Phoebus requested. 

“And may I add a glass of chardonnay?” Clopin added, taking full advantage of the soldier’s tab.

“Alright, I’ll fetch you your drinks and return for your orders.” The barmaid said before leaving the table. 

“Oh, I remembered to bring your cups,” Quasi said as he took out two small thimbles from his pocket. 

As the group chatted and looked over their menus, Pinky gazed at Clopin once more. The man held the answers they were looking for, but the tavern was much too loud and noisy. Pinky couldn’t even hear himself ponder. He looked over at Quasi, who scanned the room and appeared rather nervous. Pinky scurried across the table and eagerly pulled on Quasi’s sleeve. 

The bellringer glanced curiously at his tiny friend. “Hey, Pinky,” 

Pinky smiled at Quasi, giving him a friendly wave. He then looked over each shoulder as if to avoid suspicion. “I think we should talk to Clopin about the important thing,” he told him in an attempted hushed voice. 

“I can hear you from over here, silly lad,” Clopin said nonchalantly from the other side of the table. 

Pinky turned around and gave him a sheepish smile. Brain rolled his eyes and wished that the drinks had arrived so he could forget about his friend’s behavior. 

Quasi decided to drop Pinky’s poor charade and get to the chase. “C-Could my friends and I have a word with you alone…please?” 

Clopin’s scanned Quasi to find any sign of treachery or malice hidden in his humble request. “I suppose we can talk outside.” He said as he motioned Quasi to get up from his seat so the two of them could move. “And we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for a while,” he sneered at Phoebus. 

Quasi shriveled at the comment. It was going to take a while before he could become adjusted to his friends' dating. “We won’t be long,” he assured the couple as he allowed the mice onto his open hand. 

Once they were outside, Clopin crossed his arms. “So what is your burning question, bellringer?” 

Quasi began to feel nervous, being put on the spot once more. But the mice’s encouraging expressions pushed him in the right direction. 

“So, my friend Pinky watched your puppet show y-yesterday,” Quasi stated shyly as he fidgeted his hands together. 

“And it was a beautiful show! Troz!” Pinky swooned. “The acting was amazing, the music was marvelous, and the backgrounds were believable!” 

Clopin smiled at the compliment. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed my epic tale of the mysterious bellringer,” but the entertainer’s smile transformed into an annoyed frown. “It’s too bad that I will no longer be performing that show.”

The bellringer and the mice were surprised by the news. “But why?” Quasi inquired. 

“Because one slap-happy old dame gave me an earful because my exquisite performance traumatized her seven-year-old nephew. And now I have to resort to performing family-friendly comedies.” 

“Oh, cry me a river,” Brain spat, rolling his eyes at the puppeteer’s story. 

“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” Quasi said. “I-Is there any way I could help?” 

Clopin stopped and pondered. “I’ll think about it, but what was your question?”

“O-Oh, right,” Quasi remembered. “So Pinky told me that you had performed a show about my origins. A-And he mentioned that…” the bellringer took a deep breath, not wanting the words he was about to say to be true. “Frollo killed my mother in front of Notre Dame…and was about to do the same to me as well before the Archdeacon intervened.” 

Clopin’s scowl shifted into dismay as he heard the surviving refugee speak of his late mother and her murderer, who had become his guardian. 

Quasi stared at Clopin, feeling anxious and uncertain. “Did that…actually happen?” 

A pregnant pause filled the air. Clopin took a moment to gather his bearings. He braced himself, both having to revisit a painful memory and the bellringer’s reaction to the revelation. 

“Yes, Quasimodo,” Clopin said, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Frollo had killed your mother, and she died trying to save you.” 

Quasimodo gasped. Brain sadly gazed up at the young man while Pinky gave his thumb a big hug. 

“All this time, I thought that my mother had abandoned me…” Quasi replied in a somber tone. But the truth also sparked a small light of hope. “She loved me?”

Clopin nodded. “You were Florika’s entire world.” 

“Florika?” Quasi softly repeated. He never would have guessed what her mother’s name was. “Do you know anything else about her?” 

Clopin gave Quasi a sad smile. “I’ve only known her for about a year or so, but Florika was one of the kindest souls I ever had the pleasure of meeting. When I was nine, I had been uprooted from yet another village and settled into a small Romani camp in a small town miles away from Paris. Florika had the brightest smile and always helped in any way she could. And she was an impressive craftswoman, as she sewn clothes and made blankets.” 

Throughout his childhood, Quasi could only imagine what his mother must have been like if she had actually loved him. During his lowest moments, whether if he dealt with Frollo’s wrath for acting out of line or waking up from a bad nightmare, Quasi would often comfort himself by talking to the statues and the gargoyles in the bell tower. Sometimes he would tell them stories about how his mother would sing songs to him or make the best soup. To hear that Florika had been as kind as he imagined his mother would have been was a great comfort. 

“She sounds wonderful,” Quasi said softly. 

“Mmm,” Clopin hummed in agreement. “But her strongest virtue was that she had a lot of love to give. She treated everyone around her with dignity and compassion. She always wanted to have a child of her own, but sadly she was unable to produce one. The two times she tried both ended in miscarriages.” 

Quasi and the mice were devastated. The bellringer would sometimes sneak downstairs into the nave during the day and often heard the prayers of its congregants. Most of the time they were prayers for prosperity, fortune, and glory. But some prayers were from those who wished to give birth without complications. Other prayers were from potential mothers who mourned their losses.” 

“One night, Florika came across the sound of an infant who had been left in the woods,” Clopin continued. “Believing it to be a sign, she decided to investigate only to find a babe deformed from birth. But she looked past his deformities and accepted the child as her own.” 

Quasi was stunned.

“Granted, not everyone shared her elation. Even her husband had his doubts, but Florika loved you unconditionally and was determined to raise you the best she could. Even if it meant traveling to Paris to find a more stable home to grow up in.” 

“But then Frollo intervened…” Quasi finished. 

Clopin sadly nodded. “My family and I arrived in the city a few months later, but when we tried to look for her, our brethren informed us of her death and that the man who killed her had him locked away in the bell tower.” 

Quasimodo’s shoulders sagged. Brain sympathetically stared up at the bellringer while Pinky continued to hug his thumb. 

“I’m sorry that you had to live with that monster,” Clopin apologized, his eyes downcast. 

Quasi exhaled. Everything Frollo had told him had been lies. But as he thought about it, the signs had been there all along. Frollo had exerted his superiority over him throughout his entire life. Quasi was taught to refer to him as ‘master’ and Frollo had shot down any attempts at being labeled as a father. Above all, Frollo had made it difficult to be pleased, and no matter how hard Quasi tried to excel in his studies or complete his chores, he was denied any sort of love. And Frollo had done away with the one person who had loved him. 

The bellringer glanced down at the mice, who had been greatly concerned for his well-being. Although the foundation of his old life began to crumble, Quasimodo was grateful to have friends who would give him comfort and reassurance. The truth had hurt, but he would be able to heal. 

“Clopin,” Quasi said. “Thank you for sharing the truth about everything, especially about my mother.” 

Clopin gazed at the bellringer. He truly was his mother’s son. “You’re welcome, bellringer.” 

After a moment of companionable silence, Clopin turned his stare over at the mice and thought of an idea. 

“Although, there might be a way you could help my career as a performer,” the puppeteer said slyly.

Quasi lifted his gaze curiously at Clopin. “How so?” 

“I want to recruit the mice as part of my show!” Clopin answered enthusiastically. 

“Yay!” Pinky cheered, clapping his hands together. But Brain was having none of this. 

“You’re what?” Brain scowled. 

“Look, I need to construct more lighthearted material for my puppet shows since my tale of the mysterious bellringer has been angering many caregivers.” The entertainer explained, trying to convince the grumpy mouse to go along with his scheme. “So what better way to entertain children and adults than the tale of two mice trying to take over the world?” 

“Egad, that sounds like a great idea for a show!” Pinky exclaimed. “I think it’ll run for about four seasons.” 

“Oh please, I doubt that anyone would find such an insipid idea to have high entertainment value.” Brain disagreed with a frown. 

“But I thought your plan to attack the king with a dragon was sort of amusing,” Quasi mentioned honestly. 

“Et Tu, Quasi?” Brain remarked, feeling betrayed by the bellringer. 

“A dragon you say?” Clopin shouted excitedly. “Oh, you must tell me more!”

Pinky then cleared his throat. “Well, it all started when-” However, Brain clapped his hand over his taller friend’s mouth, instantly shutting him up. 

Brain’s face reddened with anger. “Quasi, don’t give this colorful character any ideas!” 

“Sorry,” Quasi apologized with a sheepish shrug. While Brain still had his hand on Pinky’s lips, the cockney mouse blushed hard. Egad, I’m kissing Brain on the hand!

“And I will not allow my string of failures to be turned into crass entertainment for the masses.” Brain concluded, his eyes glowing with spite. 

Clopin stroked his short beard. “Not even if I pay you ten percent of the profits?”

At that moment, Brain’s raised his brow at the offer. While the figurine business Quasi was running proved to be successful, he could never say no to additional means of income. More money means that Brain could obtain the ingredients for his potion faster. 

“I suppose I’m not above selling out,” Brain admitted. The mouse held out his hand for Clopin to shake, but before he could do so, the megalomaniac raised his paw to make an additional point. “But only on the condition that I can have some say in your story scripts.” 

Clopin thought for a moment before giving his decision. “Deal.” So the entertainer and the megalomaniac shook on it. 

The group walked back into the tavern to resume their evening of merriment with Esmeralda and Phoebus. Though Quasi was certainly glad to be surrounded by good company, he was caught in a tidal wave of mixed emotions. Clopin gave him some much-needed closure surrounding his mother but at the cost of learning what Frollo had done to her. Perhaps he could discuss the issue with the Archdeacon. The elder had treated him well and might provide some additional insight into the matter. 

Quasimodo looked at the table, noting the mugs of beer awaiting him and his friends. The barmaid had been generous enough to pour an ample amount of ale into the small thimbles for the mice. He could use a drink or two. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus happily greeted the other members of their newly-formed friend group as they took their seats and grabbed their drinks. The soldier noticed the concerned look on the bellringer’s face. 

“Hey Quasi, is something wrong?” Phoebus asked gently. 

Quasi’s eyes enlarged as he heard his beloved nickname. As much as he wanted to be honest with his friends, he did not want to dampen the lively mood with his personal issues. “I-I’m fine, but I’d rather not talk about it.” 

“Alright,” Phoebus said with a nod. Quasi was once again thankful that he didn’t press the matter and respected his boundaries. 

Brain grabbed the two thimbles of ale, handing Pinky his cup. The megalomaniac strutted over to the center of the table and cleared his throat. “If I may have your attention, please,” the shorter mouse announced. “Since we are gathered together in this lively establishment, I would like to make a toast.” 

Pinky then approached Brain, looking rather worried. “Troz! But Brain, how are we going to make a toast if we don’t have any bread or butter-”

Annoyed with Pinky’s inanity, Brain once again pressed his hand to cover his friend’s mouth. Once more, Pinky felt his cheeks heat up at his lips pressed against Brain’s fingers. 

The smaller mouse turned his attention back to the group while keeping his hand over Pinky’s mouth. “But first, I would like to give my sincerest thanks to Quasi,” he declared. “When Pinky and I were defenseless outcasts, he welcomed us into his home and offered us his companionship. And for the past few days, it would seem that our circle of friends has continued to grow.” 

Quasi glanced at Esmeralda and Phoebus, who returned the gaze with warm smiles. Clopin gave a small shrug, but he did not complain at the prospect of being included. 

Brain dropped his left hand from Pinky’s mouth and raised the thimble of ale with his right. “So a toast to Quasi, and to friendship!” 

Pinky happily joined Brain’s side and raised his thimble. “And may you always be satisfied! Narf!” 

The four humans happily clinked their mugs in celebration with hearty “cheers!”. Quasi quickly followed suit. 

Pinky took a sip of the mead but was rather disgusted by the strong taste. “Not for me,” He muttered as he shook his head.

“Weakling,” Brain criticized as he drank his fill until the thimble was emptied. The megalomaniac silently switched cups with Pinky, gifting him with his empty one. 

Pinky walked over to Quasi and pulled on his green sleeve. The moment he received the bellringer’s attention he showed him his empty cup. “Poit! Could you bring me some water please?” The mouse pleaded. “The mead is very icky.” 

“Of course Pinky,” Quasi sweetly replied. After taking the empty thimble, he gazed over at the crowded tavern. Among the sea of eager patrons, the barmaid shuffled by as she stepped over an inebriated man lying on the floor. 

Quasi waved his hand in the air. “E-Excuse me, mademoiselle,” he politely addressed, but his soft voice went unheard among the sea of raucous cacophony. 

Esmeralda noticed Quasi’s predicament of trying to place his request without coming off as arrogant. Taverns were tricky establishments, as they could be places of merriment and recreation or hostile environments that enabled drunken debauchery. She experienced prejudiced nastiness as many taverns from both employees and customers alike. But the empathy she had for Quasi motivated her to come to his aid. 

She locked eyes with the barmaid and raised her hand. “Pardon us, but could my friend place a request?” 

“Of course,” the worker answered, her voice audible amidst the cacophony of the tavern. 

Quasi felt the barmaid’s stare. Gulping nervously, he spoke up. “Yes, c-could I have some water?” 

The barmaid nodded. “I’ll go fetch that for you,” she said before speeding away from the booth. 

Quasi exhaled. He was grateful that no one seemed to be repulsed by his appearance so far. The bellringer looked back at Esmeralda with grateful eyes. “Thank you, Esmeralda.” 
“I’m happy to help my friend out,” Esmeralda replied sweetly. 

It didn’t take long before the barmaid returned with an empty mug and a pitcher of water. Placing the cup on the table, she poured an ample amount of water. Quasi politely thanked the barmaid before she moved on to serve the other patrons. 

Quasi took Pinky’s thimble from his hands. With great precision, he carefully poured enough water into the thimble before handing it back to the mouse. 

“Thanks, Quasi!” Pinky chirped. In return, Quasi gently patted the top of his head with his index finger. 

Brain smiled and shook his head. Pinky was very endearing for an imbecile. The megalomaniac stepped closer to his cheerful friend and raised his thimble. Pinky seemed to understand the gesture, and the mice merrily clinked thimbles together before sipping their respective drinks. 

The mice continued to stare at the lively ambiance of the bar. Some of the older customers gathered amongst themselves and swapped stories. Younger patrons, from merchants to soldiers, flirted with the beautiful maidens. 

“Say Brain,” Pinky began. 

“Yes, Pinky?” Brain inquired, his ears perking curiously. 

“Do you think that everyone in the tavern will break out into song about how they love the toughest man in town, even if he doesn’t deserve the praise?” 

Brain’s face scrunched at the inane inquiry. “Pinky, I would rather subject myself to a chamber filled with instruments of torture than listen to some spontaneous musical number.” 

“Egad, I never knew that you like being tortured too!” Pinky exclaimed. “We have more in common than I thought. Narf!” 

Brain breathed out of his nose and gulped down the rest of his mead. 

As the group enjoyed their drinks, Phoebus was happily taking in the atmosphere of the tavern. After spending years witnessing the horrors of war, he always appreciated having a good beer with good company. He enjoyed the typical tavern activities, from drunkenly singing with the other patrons to arm wrestling his fellow soldiers. 

He looked over at Quasi, noting his gargantuan arms. No doubt he must have gained an inordinate amount of strength from years of ringing the bells. But Phoebus couldn’t help but wonder just how strong Quasi was. 

“Hey Quasi, have you ever arm wrestled someone before?” Phoebus asked. 

The redhead slowly shook his head. “No, I haven’t.” 

The captain grinned. “Then you’re in for a treat!” 

He began to clear the left side of the table, passing his mug over to Esmeralda and motioning for Clopin to switch seats with Quasi. The young man quietly obeyed, exchanging a bemused glance with Clopin as they moved to their respective chairs. 

Brain grabbed Pinky by the hand as they relocated over to where Esmeralda sat. The dancer motioned for the mice to take a seat, happy to be part of their company. Pinky looked down at his hand clasped into Brain’s protective grip. Overcome with emotion, a great smile emerged. 

“Oh goodie, Brain! Narf! This is wonderful!” Pinky cheered, giving Brain’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re gonna watch a wrestling match that’s real! Troz!” 

Brain felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears heat up. But the mouse was determined to conceal his affection for Pinky as best he could. “Yes, Pinky,” the megalomaniac agreed cooly. “We are treated to dinner and a show.” 

After Quasi took his seat, he noticed that Phoebus already had his arm in position. The soft candlelight glamed from his golden armor. The captain smiled at Quasi, his blonde hair and brown eyes glowed in the dim lighting. 

“The rules are simple,” Phoebus casually explained. “Both competitors must grip their hands together while only having their elbows on the table. The first man to pin his opponent’s arm down wins.”

Quasi nodded, comprehending the rules of the game. The bellringer shifted his right arm on the table to the correct position. While the mice were accepting of his left hand, Quasi decided to put his ambidexterity to good use. He carefully placed his callused hand into Phoebus’s gloved hand. 

The members of the table began to cheer. Esmeralda and Pinky rooted for them both, sharing the same mindset that this game is just for fun. 

“You got this, Quasi!” Brain confidently commanded. Suddenly, the mouse felt a gloved finger moving his left ear. He looked to see Clopin wearing a playful grin. 

“Do you care to put a wager on that?” The puppeteer coyly offered. 

Brain scowled on Quasi’s behalf. The man rang the cathedral bells with great finesse without breaking a sweat. So it’s only logical that he could best a man in armor in a feat of strength. 

“I’ll bet five francs that Quasi could defeat Phoebus!” 

“Then it’s a deal!” Clopin agreed as he extended his finger, allowing the mouse to shake on it. 

“Give me all you got!” Phoebus commanded. 

Quasi reluctantly nodded as he clasped hands with Phoebus. Then, without hesitation, the bellringer slammed the soldier’s arm against the table. Phoebus had been caught off guard by Quasi’s strength that he lost balance and fell from his seat. 

Esmeralda gasped in amazement. Pinky let out a surprised “Naaarf.”

“Yeees!” Brain bellowed, raising his fists in the air. He turned around to face Clopin. “Alright, now pay up, you eccentric entertainer!” 

Clopin frowned in defeat. He retrieved his money purse, fishing out the exact amount. He silently slammed the coins onto the table and extended them over to the mouse. Brain grinned as he received his earnings, his pink eyes twinkling at the gold coins. 

But Quasi was in no mood to celebrate his victory. “Phoebus!” The young man gasped, fearing the worst. 

The bellringer rushed over to the captain’s aide, scooping him up into his arms. “Are you alright?” Quasi gently asked as he cradled the knight in shining armor. 

Esmeralda, Clopin, and the mice stared in shock at the sight of Quasi holding a man in a suit of armor without issue. 

The past minute felt like a blur to Phoebus. One second he challenged Quasi to a playful arm wrestling match, then he was thrown onto the floor only to be lifted up into the gentle arms of the man who bested him. 

Phoebus looked up at Quasi, his cheeks coated in a soft shade of pink. He could definitely see why Esmeralda found the bellringer so endearing. 

The captain gave a sly smile. “You certainly know how to sweep someone off of their feet.” 

Quasi blushed at the comment. Realizing that Phoebus probably wanted to be settled back down, the bellringer gently and swiftly guided the knight back to his standing position. 

“I-I’m sorry, Phoebus,” Quasi muttered awkwardly. But before he could return to his seat, he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder. Expecting mockery or disdain, Quasi turned around only to find Phoebus kindly smiling at him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the captain reassured. 

Quasi exhaled, feeling grateful that Phoebus harbored no ill will toward him. Although he felt his gloved touch linger on his shoulder for a little longer than necessary. 

The blonde knight let go of Quasi’s shoulder and extended his hand out to him. “Good game.” 

The bellringer smiled and gently clasped his hand. “Good game,” he agreed. 

“So the Captain of the Guard has been bested by the mysterious bellringer of Notre Dame!” A rough voice barked out. 

Quasi turned around to see a strong middle-aged man accompanied by a thin blonde man who appeared at least ten years younger than him. The bellringer recognized the men during his daily routine of watching the townspeople go about their lives as he sculpted figurines made to their liking. They had joined the other fishmongers in the city, gathering their fishing equipment and their daily catches to bring back to their shops. 

“A-Aren’t you one of the fishermen?” Quasi asked. 

“The name’s Jack Maguire, the best fishmonger in Paris.” He confidently introduced himself. Jack then wrapped his arm around his mild-mannered companion, who only stared at Quasi with fright in his eyes. “And this is my associate Jonesy.” 

“Hello,” Jonesy muttered. 

“I’ve heard many stories about you,” Jack continued speaking. 

“Ooh, like bedtime stories?” Pinky happily asked. 

But Jack chuckled in response. “No, but there are rumors about your inhuman strength and agility! You can climb all over the cathedral much like an assassin, and you possess the strength of a hundred men! Not to mention the time you threw a priest out of a building.” 

“That never happened!” Quasi blurted out, raising his hand defensively. “I-I would never do something like that to anyone,” 

“But he could if you truly angered him.” Clopin joked. But Esmeralda swiftly punched him in the arm. 

“Although the stories of Quasi climbing up and down the cathedral are true!” Pinky mentioned. Brain shot a dirty look at Pinky, who quickly added “Poit! But he carried my friend and I down safely!”

“But enough small talk,” Jack interrupted. “I want to challenge you to an arm wrestling match!” 

Quasi stood there puzzled. He turned back to his friends and asked “Should I?” 

“Only if you want to,” Esmeralda answered. 

“Do it!” Phoebus answered. “You’ll beat that guy for sure.” 

Quasi turned his attention back to Jack Maguire and Jonesy. “I accept!” 

“Great!” Jack exclaimed before moving over toward his table. 

Quasi carefully grabbed the mice from the table and placed them in Esmeralda’s care. Pinky gave her a friendly wave, which endeared the dancer. The bellringer then put Brain’s coins into his money purse, handed it over to Esmeralda, and proceeded to follow Jack. 

Brain, meanwhile, whistled over to Jonesy. Once he got his attention, the mouse began to enact his own plan. “So how tough would you say this Jack Maguire fellow is?” 

“He’s one of the toughest men in the city.” Jonesy answered. 

“Is that so?” Brain questioned, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll bet you fifteen francs that Quasi could take him down within a minute.” 

“I’ll take that bet!” Jonesy replied, his confidence placed in his associate. 

Brain grinned. If Quasi could defeat that Jack Maguire character, then he’ll earn enough money to finance his friend’s need for new art supplies. 

Quasi and Jack were seated at the table in the middle of the tavern. It did not take long for other customers to shift their attention over to the mysterious bellringer and the mighty fishmonger going head-to-head in an arm wrestling match. 

“I’ll oversee this little competition!” Clopin announced as he approached the table to serve as the referee. 

The two men positioned their elbows on the table. Quasi carefully gripped Jack’s hand. Glancing around the room, he felt the eyes of the curious spectators staring at him. 

“Go Quasi!” Pinky’s cheerful voice overpowered the murmurs of the bystanders. 

The bellringer began to relax upon hearing his friend’s encouraging words. He looked to the fishmonger’s hand, which was considerably smaller compared to his own. Quasi clearly did not want to throw the man down as he did with Phoebus. All he needed to do was dial back his strength when competing. 

“Ready…” Clopin began, raising his hand in the air. He then threw it down and shouted “Go!” 

Quasi felt Jack exerting all of his strength into moving his hand, but the bellringer’s hand stood still. With a gentle hand, Quasi carefully moved Jack’s hand downward before it landed on the table. In a matter of seconds, Quasi was the victor of his second arm-wrestling match. 

The small crowd cheered. Brain motioned for Jonesy to pay up. The smaller man silently gave the mouse his prize, graciously accepting defeat. 

Brain’s eyes lit up as he received the additional Francs. “Esmeralda, would you be so kind as to open up Quasi’s purse?” He asked. “I need to fill his bank account with my earnings.” 

She raised her brow as she obliged. “I never thought you would engage in sports betting, but if it’s for Quasi’s sake, I’m not complaining.” 

Soon, many of the tavern’s most overconfident patrons lined up to compete against Quasimodo. The blacksmith and his apprentice. A farmer named Jimmy Joe and his son Jimmy Joe Junior. Nils, the burly blonde. Three lower-ranking soldiers named Tom, Dick, and Stanley were all easily defeated. As Quasi kept winning, Brain received more and more money from the other patrons he bet against. 

“Ha-ha!” Brain cheered, raising his fists up in the air. He could hear the collective groans from the losers who unceremoniously handed him their gold coins. The megalomaniac deviously chuckled as he raked in more dough. 

Quasi was then approached by a short, red-haired knight in black armor named Sam, who boldly claimed to be the strongest man in Paris. Brain confidently placed a bet of 100 Francs that Quasi would be the victor. Offended, Sam raised the wager to 200 Francs before the competition. 

Brain played his cards right as Quasi swiftly defeated Sam in a battle that only lasted five seconds. 

“Dagnabbit!” Sam gritted as he shook out the pain from his hand. 

Brain confidently leaped onto the table to approach the defeated knight. “Now, if you’ll give me my much-deserved prize.”

Sam groaned. “Alright, here’s yer money, ya varmint!” 

Brain laughed maniacally at the large money bag. He gave the purse a big hug and a loving kiss. 

Pinky’s ears drooped. “Oh Brain, I had no idea that you were dating that lovely-looking person.” 

Brain stared quizzically at Pinky before recognizing his assumption. “No, I’m not dating anyone, Pinky. I’m merely happy that I gained enough money for Quasi.” 

Pinky’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, that’s good to hear Brain. Troz!”  

“I call dibs on the next fight!” A familiar feminine voice hollered from across the bar. 

Many of the patrons gasped in fear as their attention was directed to the grey-haired old crone, Madame Slappy. The geriatric grump sat in the corner of the tavern alongside her young, bright-eyed nephew Skippy. Many folks had admonished her for bringing a seven-year-old child to a tavern, but they buttoned their lips upon realizing how strong she actually was. 

The elderly woman’s eyes lit up when she saw Quasi. “Hey, it’s good to see you again handsome.” She quipped. 

Quasi felt Clopin’s hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be fooled, boy. She may look like an unsuspecting cranky old broad, but she is not one to be messed with. Slappy developed a reputation for being a ruthless fighter who shows no mercy.” 

Slappy’s brows furrowed in annoyance. “I heard that, beanpole!” The elderly dame groused. 

Skippy marched over to Slappy’s side. “Yeah, my aunt Slappy is the toughest person in all of Paris, and she’ll prove it too!” 

“I can always count on you to be my hype man, Skippy,” Slappy remarked as she unceremoniously cracked her knuckles. “So bellringer, you up for another challenge?” 

Quasi looked over at his circle of friends. Phoebus and Esmeralda gave him encouraging smiles while Pinky clapped his hands together. Brain, who secured his winnings, nodded in approval. 

“I-I accept!” Quasi answered as he moved toward the table. The cheers of the raucous crowd rang in his ears. Quasi moved the stool backward and took his seat. 

Brain took another swig from his thimble. Quasi had been a godsend, arm-wrestling his way to victory and aiding Brain’s quest for more funds. 

The mouse approached Slappy. “Do you care to put in a wager before the match?” 

The elderly woman thought for a moment. “I’ll place in five-hundred francs that I can take him down no problem.” 

The crowd ooohed in response. Brain chuckled, his confidence rising through the roof. He only had about three-hundred-and-fifty francs at his disposal, but he had faith in Quasi.

“Then I’ll go for the gusto!” Brain declared, reaching his hand out. Slappy offered the mouse her finger and their bet was made. 

Quasi carefully gripped his hand into Slappy’s. 

Clopin approached the table, serving as the referee of the match. 

“Ready…”

Quasi took a deep breath. 

“Go!” 

Quasi immediately felt Slappy’s iron grip tightening around his hand. Five seconds into the battle, Slappy began to push Quasi’s hand downward. Throughout the night, he managed to defeat several men with only a tenth of his normal strength. But Slappy proved to be quite the strongarm for an elderly woman. 

Slappy confidently grinned as she moved Quasi’s hand closer to the table. 

The bellringer glanced over at the mice. Brain nervously stared back at Quasi while chewing on his fingernails. 

He could not fail his friend in his hour of need. 

Little by little, Quasi carefully applied his strength back into his right arm. He had been holding back his power for most of the night, but now he needed to turn the tides. Quasi pushed his hand upwards towards the halfway point. 

Slappy’s smile had now dissipated. “Uh-oh,” she muttered. 

Quasi continued to apply his strength until Slappy’s hand touched the tabletop. 

The onlookers erupted into cheers. Brain raised his thimble and gave a victorious “Yeeeesss!” The megalomaniac chugged the contents of his thimble and proceeded to embrace Pinky. 

Quasi withdrew his hand. He watched as Slappy stretched out her hand. 

“Aunt Slappy, are you alright?” Skippy asked in concern. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay, kiddo.” She replied. 

Quasi smiled and offered his hand out to her. “It was a good match.” 

Slappy looked down at his hand and grinned. “You really threw me out of a loop there, but I’ll take losing to the famed bellringer over having to watch another one of Clopin’s pretentious puppet shows.” 

Clopin scowled. “You take that back, you old crone!” 

Slappy snorted as she shook Quasi’s hand. “That was a fun match, kid.” Once Slappy let go of the bellringer’s grip, Skippy eagerly offered his hand for Quasi to shake. The young man happily obliged, gently shaking the lad’s hand. 

Brain eagerly hopped from Esmeralda’s hand and onto the table. He had no time to watch such mawkish sentiment when he had to collect his earnings. 

“Now then, I believe you must pay your dues?” Brain smugly asked the old dame. 

Slappy rolled her eyes as she grabbed her moneybag. “Alright shortstop, here’s your jackpot!”  She tossed the full bag over to Brain. The megalomaniac stared up at his earnings right as the money bag landed on top of him. 

“Buh-bye.” Slappy drawled as she and her nephew left the tavern. 

Quasi carefully grabbed the small sack of money while Pinky rushed over to Brain’s aid. 

“Egad, Brain, are you alright?” Pinky asked in a worried tone. The taller mouse knelt down and offered his friend his hand. 

Brain moaned as he slowly got up on his feet thanks to Pinky’s assistance. He was in incredible pain, but at least he was 500 Francs richer. “I need a drink.”

Clopin grabbed the thimble. “A little rum for your troubles?” He slyly inquired. 

“Yes, please!” Brain replied. Anything that could help ease his pain. Clopin smiled as he transferred the rum from his cup into Brain’s thimble. He offered the thimble to the smaller mouse, who snatched it from his hand. Brain took a long sip from his thimble. 

“Anyone interested in another round of drinks?” Phoebus asked the group. 

Brain consumed the last drops of mead from his thimble before victoriously raising it in the air. “Yes!” The mouse cheered. 

The rest of their time at the tavern was spent in bliss. Quasimodo became more relaxed in his tight-knit group of friends. He listened to their stories with attentive ears, from Esmeralda’s travels to how Phoebus received his latest job as Captain of the Parisian Guards. He even noticed Clopin lowering his guard around him and Phoebus. The mice enjoyed their time as well, with Brain drinking as much mead as possible and Pinky simply happy to see his friends being happy. 

The gang happily exited the bar, with Quasi carrying the mice in his hands. 

“So what do you think of the tavern scene, Quasi?” Phoebus asked in a friendly tone.

Although the bellringer remembered Frollo’s heated lectures about taverns as tools of the Devil to lure men into drunken depravity and sinful indulgences, his first night at the bar did not necessarily match his master’s detailed descriptions. 

“It was a lot of fun,” Quasi admitted. “M-Maybe a tad raucous, but I can see the appeal.” 

“You know, you two should come over to La Pomme D’Eve,” Esmeralda suggested. “It’s not rowdy at all. Plus there is a good amount of music and dancing.” 

“Music and dancing?” Quasi repeated, his voice filled with excitement. “I-I’m no expert on dancing, but that sounds lovely.” 

“You and me both, Quasi,” Phoebus casually agreed, giving him a playful nudge on the arm. Quasi chuckled at the friendly gesture. 

Esmeralda was glad that Quasi was eager to visit La Pomme D’Eve. It was one of the few establishments in Paris that served as a safe haven for the Romani community. Quasi did not hold the prejudiced beliefs his guardian did, so she assumed that the young man would be open-minded enough to explore her culture in a welcoming environment. 

“Great!” The dancer exclaimed. “So what do you say, Clopin?” 

The entertainer rolled his eyes, giving Quasi a teasing smile. “I suppose Notre Dame’s mysterious bellringer and your knight in shining armor aren’t so bad after all.” 

Quasi exhaled, happy to learn that Clopin no longer harbored any ill will toward him and Phoebus. 

“Thank you, Clopin,” he said gratefully. 

“You’re not so bad either,” Phoebus teased back. 

“Ha-ha,” Clopin chuckled sarcastically. “I’d love to stay and chat, but La Esmeralda and I must return to our beloved domain.” 

“Yeah, we should be heading back as well,” Phoebus agreed. 

Quasi nodded. “The vespers need to be rung soon.” 

Esmeralda smiled at the two men. She first approached Quasi, carefully wrapping her arms around him so as not to disturb the mice in his hands. The bellringer carefully placed his arm on her back, gently returning the gesture. 

“You have a good night, Quasi,” Esmeralda told him. 

“You too, Esmeralda.” Quasi softly replied. 

Touched by the sincerity in his tone, Esmeralda gave Quasi a soft kiss on his cheek before they broke away from the hug. She then approached Phoebus, giving him a hug. Quasi and the mice watched as the dancer and the knight shared a kiss. 

“And before I forget,” Esmeralda spoke up. She approached the mice, giving them each a tender pat on their heads. Pinky relished the gentle touch and Brain, in his inebriation, did not mind the gesture. 

“See you soon!” Esmeralda called out before joining Clopin on their journey home. 

“See you later,” Quasi and Phoebus said in near unison. 

After Esmeralda and Clopin left, Quasi felt a soft pat on his shoulder. He looked over only to find Phoebus smiling at him. 

“So, would you like me to escort you back to the cathedral?” The golden soldier offered. 

Quasi smiled back. “I could use the extra company.” He then turned his attention to the mice in his left palm. “Are you guys alright if Phoebus joined us?” 

Pinky’s tail wagged eagerly. “Of course! The more the merrier, right Brain?”

Brain, however, stumbled over to Pinky and grabbed onto the taller mouse for support. “Mwa-haa, the Freeeench!” 

Pinky instantly wrapped his arm around Brain to help prop him up on his feet. Egad! Brain’s not saying all those big confusing worbs like he normally does. Pinky thought, his lips drooping concernedly. 

Quasi also seemed worried about the smaller mouse. “Are you alright, Brain?”

The megalomaniac barked out a laugh. “Mmm right as pain!” However, he paused for a moment. “Or is it bright as brain?” Brain mused as he used Pinky’s hand to stroke his chin. After a moment of pondering, the smaller mouse grinned. “Nah!” He chortled while flipping Pinky’s hand downward in a casual manner. 

“The little fella’s had a little too much to drink at the tavern,” Phoebus interjected. “Unfortunately, he’s gonna be in for a nasty hangover in the morning.” 

“Oh dear,” Quasi exhaled. He had no idea what a hangover was, but it sounded dreadful. “Is there any way I can help?” 

“Make sure he has enough water to drink in the morning and he should be fine.” The captain advised before giving Quasi another gentle pat on the shoulder. “Let’s get you home.” 

The stroll back to the cathedral began in companionable silence, but the peaceful moment was shattered when Brain began to mumble about various foods. 

“We know a farm in Lincolnshire, where mizzes Buckley lives,” Brain rambled, staring at Pinky with loving eyes. “Ev’ry July, peas grow there…” 

Pinky gently cradled Brain in his arms, his ears perking at the captivating story.  “Ooh, that sounds fascinating Brain!” 

“Yes, Pimky,” Brain muttered as he patted his friend’s bulbous nose. “Now be a dear an’ make mama a sammich!” 

Quasi observed the mice’s interactions with fascination. He turned his attention over to Phoebus, inspecting his laid-back expression. He was grateful to have made such a good friend, but there was something that puzzled the bellringer. Even though it was clear that Phoebus and Esmeralda were romantically involved, he noticed that Phoebus did not show any negative reactions when Esmeralda kissed his cheek before leaving the tavern. If anything, Phoebus seemed to accept that it happened. Perhaps the mice were right in that Esmeralda was simply showing her affection as a friend. Quasi shrugged at the thought.

“I’m glad that we got together for the evening,” Phoebus mentioned out loud. 

Quasi dropped his musings and looked back at Phoebus, noting his contented smile. Feeling more comfortable, Quasi decided to indulge in some conversation. “Yeah, I-I’m glad to have spent the evening with you and Esmeralda as well.” 

Phoebus smiled back. “Though I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Clopin,” he admitted. 

“He’s not so bad,” Quasi answered with a shrug. “A little overbearing, sure, but his heart is in the right place.” 

The captain chuckled. After a brief moment of silence, the soldier spoke up once more. “You know Quasi, I haven’t had this much fun in ages.” 

“Really?” Quasi asked. 

“Yeah,” Phoebus answered. “To tell you the truth Quasi, there aren’t a lot of opportunities for soldiers to relax and unwind when they’re constantly on the battlefield, trying to survive.” 

The soldier paused for a moment. Quasi noticed the dazed, near-empty expression in his eyes. Something must have been troubling him. 

“Phoebus?” Quasi gently asked.

The soldier quickly blinked at the sound of his own name. He took a deep breath. 

Quasi’s eyes knit in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Phoebus nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.” The soldier gave the bellringer another soft pat on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

Quasi silently stared at Phoebus for a moment before moving the conversation onward. “O-Of course. But you were saying?” 

The captain realized where he left off. “Oh right! I meant to say that it’s been a while since I did something like this. But now that I’m Captain of the Guards, I have a more steady work schedule and I’ll have more opportunities for leisure than I did when I was a lower-ranking soldier.” 

The life of a soldier sounded foreign to Quasi, who spent his entire life in the cathedral. The only pieces of information he learned about that particular occupation came from his history books and the few times Frollo openly complained about the previous Captains of the Guards. He even remembered the time Frollo rattled on about putting one of them on the rack for disobeying his orders, which only terrified the bellringer into doing everything in his power to please his master. While Quasi was glad Phoebus enjoyed his position, part of him was worried that he might suffer the same fate as some of the other men who previously held his position. 

However, something assured Quasi that he need not be too concerned. From what he had seen, Phoebus seemed to hold his own. He could dispel any conflict without issue and took his job very seriously. 

Quasi gave Phoebus a small smile. “I’m glad that I got to spend time with you and everyone else at the tavern tonight and I hope that we do something like this again soon.” 

Phoebus’s eyes lit up as he heard Quasi and he smiled back. “I’m glad that I got to spend some quality time with you too.” The soldier looked over at the mice and added, “and I enjoyed spending time with your smaller friends.” 

Brain lazily embraced Pinky as he continued to stew in his drunken stupor. “I only take direction from one person, under protest. Buh from two i don’ sit still.” 

Pinky, however, was unfazed by Brain’s rambling as he lovingly cradled him in his arms. 

Quasi and Phoebus looked back at each other, both of them equally perplexed by the mice’s shenanigans. 

“Maybe we should monitor Brain’s alcohol intake next time,” Phoebus suggested. 

“I’ll definitely make certain of that,” Quasi agreed. 

The men and the mice soon arrived at the front of Notre Dame. Quasi looked up at the marvelous statues that lined up against the majestic cathedral. The silver moonlight coated them, casting a gentle glow. 

“I need to ring the vespers,” Quasi informed Phoebus. “Thank you for accompanying me back home.” 

“You’re welcome, Quasi,” Phoebus replied. “I’ll see you around.” 

Quasi nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

The captain watched as Quasi carried the mice and sprinted through the cathedral doors. Even after the bellringer entered the church, Phoebus stood still. 

Phoebus made many friends over the course of his military career. But war had been incredibly cruel to them all. Phoebus had watched many of his friends perish on the battlefield, others succumbing to their wounds in the medical tents. Even his surviving friends had been transferred elsewhere to other posts in different parts of the country or abroad.

The life of a soldier was one wrought with unpredictability. There were always different variables thrown into the mix that caused his life to change in one way or another. But after twenty years away from Paris, Phoebus craved stability. 

When he received a letter containing a job offer from Paris’s Minister of Justice, who was in need of a new Captain of the Guards, Phoebus was quick to accept. He could live in the city and did not have to worry about being sent to war. The job seemed quite promising. 

Then he happened to cross paths with Quasi, the first friend he made in Paris. 

The bellringer piqued Phoebus’s fascination. He was soft-spoken and friendly, but he possessed the strength of ten men. The captain had overheard the rumors of the ‘demon bellringer’ from some of the citizens during his shift patrolling the Parisian streets. Phoebus was very skeptical when it came to town gossip and superstitions, and he immediately ignored the ones involving Quasi. He was a good man who happened to be born differently from most people, and that was that. Although Phoebus anticipated some aggression from the tavern, he was thankful that it was an uneventful, albeit fun night out. He knew that Quasi would inevitably face discrimination from others for how he looked, but he hoped that he would find more people out there who would accept him for who he was or even see him as a friend.

But the bellringer greatly piqued the captain’s fascination. He possessed the strength of ten men, could pick up a man in armor with ease, and climbed around the cathedral walls with finesse. But Quasi was also very kind, soft-spoken, and friendly. He also seemed to be a talented artist if his crafted figurines were anything to go by. Quasi was also a dedicated bellringer, who took his job very seriously. In all of the cities and towns in his travels, he never heard churchbells played as sweetly and majestically the way Quasi played them. Most importantly, he was incredibly gentle, from the way he talked to others to how he held him in his arms.

He never felt so enamored with anyone since when he first met Esmeralda. 

Phoebus stopped in his tracks. No, this can’t be happening, he thought. Esmeralda just came back into his life and he didn’t want to think about pursuing another person. No. He loved her so much and he deeply cared for Quasi. But then again, Esmeralda had admitted to kissing Quasi’s cheek before and gave him another before they departed from the tavern. Perhaps she also harbored strong feelings for the bellringer too… 

Don’t dwell on these feelings, Phoebus reminded himself. Just focus on your new job and try to keep things balanced with Esmeralda and Quasi. Maybe these feelings will pass once you’re better acquainted with him. 

The vespers rang from the bell tower. Phoebus contentedly listened to the beautiful melodies being rung out for all of Paris to hear. It was going to be a challenge to keep these growing emotions for the bellringer at bay. 

Quasi continued to listen to Brain’s drunken ramblings as he ascended the tower steps. As they entered the bell tower, Quasi retrieved the mice’s earplugs, gave them to the mice, and sprinted up the ladder to tend to the bells. 

Brain still held his lovestruck stare at Pinky. 

“Look at that dear Pimky, they’re playing our song,” Brain giggled. Overcome with love, the megalomaniac grabbed his friend’s hand and proceeded to dance along the floorboards. 

Brain attempted to lead, but his steps were not in time with the rhythm of the bells. Pinky did not care if Brain was a sloppy dancer who merely pulled his arms about, for he was overjoyed that his friend wanted to dance with him in the first place. 

The mice laughed heartily as they swayed to the melodic bells. Pinky gazed into Brain’s soft pink eyes, drinking in the happiness that glowed from the normally grumpy mouse. 

“Gimme a twirl!” Brain merrily ordered. 

“Okay, Brain!” Pinky responded, happy to please him. The taller mouse pulled his shorter friend in, wrapping his right arm around him and gently holding his hand. Pinky then flung Brain outward the best he could, and the megalomaniac was sent spinning across the loft like a top. Brain guffawed as he twirled around like a top until he crashed into the wooden beam and plopped over to the ground. 

Pinky gasped. “Oh Brain, I’m so sorry!” He apologized as he rushed over toward his friend’s side. 

Brain merely laughed. “I want uppies!” He gayly commanded, extending his arms out while opening and closing his hands. Pinky swiftly scooped Brain back up on his feet, but the shorter mouse hiccuped. Brain immediately wrapped his arms around Pinky, pulling him in for another hug. 

“Egad Brain, you’re a lot more touchy-feely than usual,” Pinky remarked. “Not that I’m complaining of course. Troz!” 

“That’s good to hear, Plompers!” Brain giggled. 

Quasi returned to his bedroom and was not surprised to see the mice still attached to one another. “You guys can take off your earplugs now,” he told them. 

Pinky plucked the wine corks from his ears. 

The megalomaniac gazed at Pinky, astounded that such a beautiful mouse is gazing back at him. 

Brain then cupped Pinky’s cheeks and smiled. “Say Plompers…did it ever occur to you that you have…the most beaaautiful eyes?” 

Pinky felt his cheeks heat up at the compliment. “Really, Brain?” 

“Yeeesss…” Brain drawled. “Your eyes…they’re a blue as the…the uh…” The mouse crossed his eyes as he tried to think of a proper comparison, but had no such luck in his inebriated state. 

“Hey Ozzy,” Brain called out Quasi. “What’s that blue thing that’s above the…the thing?” 

Quasi tilted his head, confused that the normally intelligent mouse was stuck on such a simple question. Not that he’s one to judge of course, as he saw the effects of alcohol at hand after watching the Feast of Fools for so many years.

“The sky?” Quasi answered. 

“Yess, the skyyyy!” Brain exclaimed. 

“Oh, Brain. Poit!” Pinky said. “You are so romantic!” 

The mice stared at each other for a moment longer. Brain in his drunken stupor gazed happily at Pinky. Cherry blossom orbs absorbed the loving glow from light blue sapphires.  In the heat of the moment, Brain pulled Pinky into a big sweeping kiss. 

Pinky’s eyes widened in shock. Never would he think that the ever-grumpy Brain would be the one to make the first move. But then he realized that his best friend, the mouse he had pined for so long, is kissing him! Pinky then closed his eyes as he savored the gesture, feeling Brain’s lips sloppily pressed against his own. 

When the mice pulled apart, Pinky stared at Brain with lovestruck eyes. “I never knew that you felt the same way…” 

“Yeeehs,” Brain groggily agreed. “Now gibe papa another kissy.” 

Pinky happily obliged as he crashed his lips into Brain’s, tolerating the mead-flavored kiss. The lanky mouse fluttered his eyes, but he noticed Quasi watched as the mice made out. 

The lanky mouse briefly pulled away from his small lover. “Sorry Quasi, are we bothering you?”

“Oh, me?” Quasi asked, feeling a bit awkward about the situation. “Not at all. In fact, I’ll just give you two some space to continue your…” he waved his hand in a circular motion to find the proper word but settled on “activity.” 

“‘Kay!” Pinky chirped before Brain cupped his cheeks, pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. 

The bellringer decided to leave the mice to their business and prepare for bed. He placed his cape over one of the gargoyles and moved to his sleeping quarters. To give the mousey lovers their privacy, Quasi pulled the red curtain behind him. 

Though it was getting late, Quasi still had enough energy to work on a few carvings before going to bed. 

His worktable was basked in a pale heavenly glow. Quasi slowly stepped into the moonlight and took a seat on the wooden bench. He gazed at the many wooden people who populated his miniature metropolis. Out of the tiny citizens, two white mice stood out from the crowd. Quasi smiled as he moved them closer together, linking their tiny hands together. 

Ever since Pinky confided his love for Brain to him, Quasi was silently rooting for the mice to get together. Fortunately, his friends found love with each other and Quasi felt incredibly happy for them. 

His gaze then trailed over to his wooden doppelganger that sat near the cathedral. While the wooden bellringer had been free from the bell tower, he was certainly trying to find his place in the world. Quasimodo then thought about how Esmeralda and Phoebus were quick to accept him as their friend and even seemed proud to be seen with him. In all of his lonesome days in the bell tower, Quasi only dreamed of finding such friends despite his master telling him that the world would merely hate him. He was still in awe that he managed to prove Frollo wrong by being befriended by a small handful of people. 

Grabbing his knife and two blocks of wood, he began to sculpt two distinct figures. First, he made a wooden replica of Esmeralda. Quasi deftly crafted the figure with great attention to detail, focusing on her long wavy hair and long flowing skirt. He chose to add a small tambourine to further replicate her graceful dancing. Once he was satisfied with how the figure turned out, he retrieved his paintbrushes and small paint jars for the next step. With careful precision, Quasi painted the miniature Esmeralda. He started with her brown skin, followed by her raven black hair, pink head tie, white blouse, and light purple skirt. For the final touches, Quasi added bright emerald eyes for the aptly named dancer, thick black eyebrows, and a friendly smile. 

The bellringer set the figure to the side and focused on working on the small replica of Phoebus. Chipping away at the block of wood, he thought about his distinct physical traits. His short blonde hair and beard, broad shoulders, and tall stature that was covered by a suit of shining gold armor. While Quasi worked on the minute details of the captain, he could certainly see why Esmeralda would be attracted to someone like him. He was a conventionally handsome man with a respectable title as Captain of the guards. And yet, he was not as uptight and serious as men of his rank. 

There was a humorous and playful aura to Phoebus that Quasimodo found appealing. He was quick with a joke and always seemed to lighten the mood. But he also possessed great kindness that he was not afraid to show. Phoebus had been the only person to approach Quasi during mass and stood up for him when the boorish guards harassed him. Strangely enough, Phoebus did not show any signs of jealousy or contempt for Quasi when Esmeralda kissed his cheek before leaving the tavern. If anything, the captain seemed to accept what happened and gladly escorted him back to the cathedral. 

Quasi grabbed the paintbrush and gave the wooden knight some much-needed color. The royal blue for the undershirt, black for the gloves, and had been complete, and gold for the armor and hair. As he painted, Quasi’s mind reeled back to the moment he instinctually cradled Phoebus in his arms. Even for a man in a full suit of armor, it was almost like lifting up a feather. He never held anyone in such a position before. In retrospect, it might have been foolish, but in the heat of the moment, he wanted to ensure that Phoebus was not hurt. Fortunately, the soldier did not seem to mind what had happened. 

The bellringer felt his cheeks aflame once more. Were those same feelings he had for Esmeralda now being directed at the man she was courting?

“Come on, pull yourself together,” Quasi chastised himself as he ran his hand through his silky red hair. Once he placed his hand back on the table, he noticed his small wooden replica standing in the city square. 

He hoped that these feelings he had for them both would subside eventually. Romance was simply not in the cards for someone like him. Though he was starting to doubt his status as a monster, that did not erase the truth that he was ugly and he knew that no one would ever want to court a hideous bellringer. 

Luckily for him, friendship seemed to be in abundance. The mice proved themselves to be faithful companions, and even some of the citizens were starting to warm up to him. But out of all of the human Parisians, Esmeralda and Phoebus were his closest companions as they genuinely seem to appreciate his presence. 

With a gentle hand, Quasi plucked his miniature counterpart and placed him right next to his wooden companions. The room seemed much brighter now that the three friends were close together. 

Harmonious giggling interrupted the bellringer’s musings. Out of curiousity, Quasi quietly tiptoed over to his loft to inspect what the mice were up to. 

Pinky and Brain allowed their kiss to linger a little bit longer before breaking away. The megalomaniac let out a loud yawn. 

“Are you tired?” The taller mouse asked. 

Brain nodded. He tried to lift up his tunic, grunting as he pulled the shirt over his head. 

Pinky nervously scratched his ear. “M-Maybe we should just go to bed,” the mouse suggested as he got up from his seat to fetch the blankets. As much as he loved Brain, he didn’t want to rush things with him. 

Brain’s ears drooped, his eyes glued to Pinky. “Don’ leave me,” he quietly begged. 

Pinky was rendered silent by Brain’s humble request. Grabbing the soft hand towel, the Cockney mouse swiftly returned to his friend’s side. 

“I won’t leave you,” Pinky cooed as he accompanied Brain over to their pile of hay. After laying down, Pinky covered the blanket over Brain and himself. 

Brain smiled once more before nuzzling into Pinky’s chest. “Love you,” he said softly. 

Tears began to emerge from Pinky’s eyes. He looked down to see Brain already snoring, using his chest as a pillow of sorts. Pinky smiled sweetly at Brain, elated to hear that his bestest friend in the whole world indeed loved him back. 

Pinky leaned his head against Brain’s big head, cradling him. “I love you too, Brain.” 

From behind the beam, Quasi smiled at the sweet scene. He was glad that both mice seemed to be satisfied. Although the bellringer could not help but think that he was not providing enough necessities for the mice. Maybe he should work on making a mouse-sized bed and make more blankets from one of his old discarded tunics. 

Quasi knew he would never receive that warm and loving glow that was reserved for lovers and laboratory mice. But now he seemed hopeful that Heaven’s light also included the love shared among friends. 

Chapter Text

Brain woke with a throbbing headache and a steady heartbeat. The megalomaniac grunted as he rubbed his aching cranium. 

“Dear Hildegard of Bingen, what happened last night?” Brain softly asked himself as he listened to the rhythmic heartbeat once more. Soon, an angelic voice chimed in, providing a soothing melody. 

They had a kind of glow around them, it almost looked like Heaven’s light…

The lovely singing combined with the soft fur grazing his cheek would have sent Brain into complete sensory euphoria had it not been for the dreaded hangover. 

I knew I’d never know, that warm and loving glow,

Though I might wish with all my might.

No face as hideous as my face, 

Was ever meant for Heaven’s light…

As he slowly came to his senses, Brain glanced upward to see Pinky still sleeping right next to him. The shorter mouse shrugged. Maybe he could stay in this comfortable position for a little longer. He hoped that Pinky’s sweet aroma coupled with the warm embrace would override the agonizing pain from his irritable headache. 

Then a cold gust of wind blew through the bell tower, seeping through the mouse’s snow-white fur. Brain instinctively rubbed his arms for warmth only to realize that he was shirtless. 

He had slept with Pinky without his shirt on. 

The mouse scrambled out of his position, his breath hitched in horror at the mortifying predicament. He looked down to see that he still had his hose on, feeling grateful that he was still somewhat clad. Brain felt another piercing zap of pain. The mouse gritted his teeth as he clutched his bulbous head. 

His mind raced as he tried to recall the events from the previous night. He and Pinky accompanied Quasi and his new friends to the tavern where he had his fill of alcohol and made a fortune from sports betting as Quasi became the undisputed arm wrestling champion. Afterward, Esmeralda bid them good night, even giving Quasi a gentle kiss on the cheek despite courting Phoebus. Quasi walked Phoebus home and they seemed to develop a good rapport. Brain vaguely remembered being very handsy with Pinky as he hugged him, danced with him, cupped his cheeks, and gave him the biggest kiss imaginable-

Brain’s eyes widened at the vague memory.

He had kissed Pinky. Multiple times. 

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” Brain screamed in horror, his hands gripping the sides of his cheeks in disbelief. 

Thundering footsteps reached the mouse’s ears as he whipped his head to find Quasi emerging from his sleeping quarters with only a towel wrapped around his waist. The mouse noticed the bellringer’s damp red hair and the bath water dripping from his body. 

“Brain, what’s wrong?” The young man asked concernedly. 

The shorter mouse quickly retrieved his tunic and was dressed within seconds. He did not mean to startle Quasi into stopping his morning routine for his sake. 

Suddenly, he heard a soft “Narf” from the other side of the room. Pinky blinked away the sleep from his eyes as he slowly got up. 

“Is everythin’ alright, Brain?” Pinky asked innocently, his voice groggy from his slumber. 

Brain stood like a deer in torchlight. He did not want all of this attention in the wake of his mortification. But the mouse needed to interrogate his friends about the previous night so he could put it right behind him. 

Brain marched up toward his dim-witted companion. “Pinky, do you recall what happened last night?” 

Pinky’s eyes sparkled upon hearing the inquiry. “Oh, it was the most memorable night of my life! Troz!” 

Brain’s ears were pinned down in horror. This was not a good sign. “Describe what you remember.” 

“Oh, where do I even start!?” Pinky began excitedly. “So, we were going to the bar to have drinks, where I had water and you had plenty of beer. But anyway, after you won a lot of money from betting on Quasi during the arm wrestling competition, you became more and more flirty. Narf! And then when we got back to the cathedral, the two of us danced to the bells, and you were telling me all of these romantic things and then you kissed me, and we continued kissing each other until we fell asleep!” 

Brain’s jaw dropped as the memory of his carousing and romancing returned to him. But he needed another witness to confirm these events. 

“Quasi, can you confirm that what Pinky said actually happened?” The shorter mouse frantically inquired. 

“Well, you were fairly handsy with Pinky and you two were kissing a lot when we returned to the bell tower,” Quasi answered, shrugging his uneven shoulders. “So much so that I had to give you two your space to do your own thing.” 

Brain’s cheeks were ablaze. How could a mouse who possessed such profound genius act so foolishly?

“But you were a very good kisser!” Pinky exclaimed with a jovial laugh. 

Brain felt even more mortified. He had acted out his inmost desires to court his best friend, the object of his romantic desires, and now that same person was shaming him for it.

“But you were a little sloppy during our make-out session, so how about we give it another go!” Pinky happily approached Brain with the intention of picking up right where they left off. 

Brain growled angrily, too consumed with frustration and embarrassment to hear his friend’s declaration. To the poor megalomaniac, Pinky was mocking him, and he would not stand for it. 

“No, Pinky!” Brain shouted as he roughly poked Pinky’s nose, stopping the taller mouse in his tracks. “I know that you’re joking at my expense, so you can stop it!” 

Pinky’s ears dropped down at the thought of Brain not reciprocating his affections. “But Brain, I wasn’t making fun of you,” he sadly defended. 

But Brain ignored Pinky’s response. He just wanted to leave the events from the previous night behind him and move forward with his life.

“Pinky, just do me a favor and forget everything I said or did last night.” Brain commanded. 

Pinky gasped at what he just heard. But Brain had poured his heart out to him and told him that he loved him. Did he really want to forget all the tender moments they shared together? 

“But Brain-” 

“Every affectionate gesture I have shown you holds no significance.” Brain lied in a firm voice, waving his arm across to emphasize his declaration. 

The mouse turned his back on Pinky. He would overcome this obstacle. Pinky, in his simple way, would somehow come to understand Brain’s perspective and they would reconcile their friendship. 

“So y-you want me to forget everything?” The cockney mouse wobbled. 

“Yes, Pinky,” Brain replied with his arms crossed, not bothering to look around at his downtrodden friend. 

“Poit, even that kiss you gave my nose two days ago?” Pinky sadly inquired. 

Brain froze in his spot. He had thought that Pinky would not have noticed that small simple act of affection. 

But Brain could not bring himself to admit his true feelings to Pinky. Instead, he turned around and bolted for the balcony door. 

Pinky fell to his knees. Tears filled his eyes as he watched the love of his life fleeing from him. “Poit…” The mouse trembled as he hugged himself. A rough sob escaped from him as he fell to the floor. 

Quasi sadly frowned at the mice’s dilemma. Ever since Pinky confided to him about the love he had for Brain, he started rooting for the rodents to get together in a romantic relationship. He stood before Pinky, trying to conjure the right words to say but to no avail.

The bellringer glanced over at the discarded stone statues and the bells. They had proved to be his steadfast friends over the years, listening to all of his musings and comforting him in their own way. Though they could not speak, he had sensed their soothing voices as they provided him with solace and friendship. A small flicker of determination and compassion in his heart sparked into a powerful flame. Quasi was determined to console his rodent friends. 

Gripping the towel, he slowly knelt down and placed a comforting hand around Pinky. 

Pinky looked up at the bellringer as he felt a gentle thumb wiping away his tears. “I’m sorry Pinky,” he heard the young man tell him in his soothing voice. 

The tall mouse instantly hugged the bellringer’s thumb. “O-Oh, Quasi, this is terrible.” The mouse trembled as he continued to cry. “Zort! H-He probably hates me now, a-a-and doesn’t want to talk to me anymore…” 

Quasi’s lips pursed at Pinky’s plight. But he knew in his heart that the mice would overcome their dilemma somehow. They just needed a gentle reminder of their powerful bond. 

“Brain would never hate you, Pinky,” the bellringer consoled the mouse, lifting him up with one hand and steadying his towel with the other. “I can tell from his actions that he deeply cares about you.”

The mouse’s sobs started to subside. “R-Really?” Pinky sniffled. 

Quasi gently nodded. “I’ll go talk to Brain after I ring the bells,” He told his smaller friend. “I’m certain that he still loves you and that things will turn out fine between the two of you.” 

Pinky scrubbed the tears from his eyes, nodding his head in agreement. Maybe there was still hope between him and Brain. 

“Thank you, Quasi,” Pinky said gratefully. 

The young man smiled. “Of course, Pinky. 

Quasi gently ruffled Pinky’s hair with his finger and gave him a swift kiss on top of his head. Pinky smiled as his friend brought him over to the breakfast table. The mouse hopped off of the man’s large callused hand and sprinted towards the small cheese platter. After such a hectic morning, he needed some comfort food. 

The bellringer smiled at Pinky and turned around to return to his own quarters. The mouse looked up and frowned at the many dark scarred lines that littered his misshapen back. Quasi didn’t deserve the poor treatment he got from that mean and horrible Frollo. If Brain still wanted to speak to him, maybe he could use his super-smarts to figure out how to find Quasi a better home. One with an exercise wheel, an assortment of different cheeses, and some bells for Quasi to ring. Maybe the three of them would live together in peace and comfort without having to worry about mean scientists and judges. 

Quasi stepped into his changing room and immediately closed the red curtain behind him. He looked over at the clothes folded on the small table. He looked over his shoulder to find an old mirror coated with dust and a large crooked crack standing next to the wooden beam.

He looked at the misshapen body he was born into. For the longest time, he always assumed that his appearance was what made him a monster and that no one would ever truly love him.  His mind began to flicker back to his early childhood to when he first angered his master…

Quasimodo closed his eyes as Frollo poured another pailful of water over his head. The four-year-old instinctively scrubbed the soap away from his eyes before inspecting the lukewarm water in the wooden tub.

Master had a bath prepared for him this morning. The moment Quasimodo woke up, the judge was already leading him over to the tub while explaining to him that it was important to clean himself of the dirt and dust that coated the bell tower. The lad barely registered what Frollo told him when he felt a pair of hands lifting off his nightshirt and a command to sit in the tub. 

Quasimodo quickly grew accustomed to the sensation of immersing his body in the water. He moved his knees, which caused the water to move about in waves. After much time, he also noticed how prune-like his fingers had become. It was an odd sensation. 

The boy looked up at his master. After meeting eye contact, the old man glanced over to his left as if he was upset about something. Quasimodo turned his attention over to the small bubbles floating above the surface until they popped. The lad looked down at his lap for a moment when he felt a cold hand tilting his head upwards. 

“Do refrain from gazing down there,” Frollo advised. “Soon enough, you will feel the strong pull of temptation and earthly pleasure. Many have fallen for these desires, but you shall not. Although you are a monster, I shall guide you toward salvation so long as you obey my every word and stay in this sanctuary.” 

Quasimodo nodded despite not comprehending every word his master said. 

Frollo grabbed the towel and plucked the boy from the tub. “Now I must find you a suitable tunic and hose,” He said before moving to the other side of the loft. 

Quasimodo adjusted the towel by tying it around his waist. He looked over at the balcony door and noticed the golden sun rising over the horizon. The coos of the pigeons reached his ears, sounding as beautiful as the bells.   

Feeling adventurous, Quasi ran away from the tub and decided to visit his small friends. He trotted across the floorboards, the towel loosening with each footstep. 

Quasi entered the balcony, inspecting the pigeons that made their nests by the gargoyles. He felt the towel drop as he made his way over toward his brethren. A mother bird had made her nest inside the mouth of a fat gargoyle, feeding her three babies with worms. Five other pigeons strutted across the railing. 

“Good morning!” He greeted the mother and her three children. The mother cooed in response while the other pigeons flocked over to the boy. 

Quasimodo gently stuck out his hand to see how the pigeons would react. To his surprise, one of the pigeons flew over and landed on his palm. Quasimodo giggled at the kind gesture and he gently stroked the pigeon with his finger. 

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug as Frollo wrapped the towel around his waist. The birds scattered from the scene. The three baby birds watched helplessly as their human friend was yanked away. 

“Quasimodo!” The man shouted. “Have you no decency?” The mother bird swooped down and pecked Frollo on the hat. The Judge yelped as he flailed his arms in retaliation, causing the lad to giggle at his Master’s expense. Though the mother bird flew away, she had the last as her droppings landed right on the man’s shoulder. 

But the boy’s smile faltered when Frollo harshly glared at him. “But I-I only wanted to talk to the birds,” Quasi explained. “Because they’re m-my f-friends, Sir,” 

Quasimodo felt Frollo’s sharp fingernails digging into his shoulders as his guardian violently shook him. 

“The birds are not your friends!” Claude Frollo roared. “I am the only one you can talk to!” 

The boy recoiled, feeling terrified of his guardian. The Judge took shallow breaths as he tried to maintain his composure. 

Quasimodo gazed at Frollo, feeling confused. “B-But why c-can’t I talk to the birds, o-or anyone else but you?” 

The Judge grabbed Quasi by the hair, yanking him back into the bell tower. The boy shouted at the pain, but his cries were ignored by his guardian. He almost tripped as he was dragged over to his sleeping quarters. 

Frollo led the boy over to the mirror, forcing him to stare at his own reflection. Quasimodo gasped at his own image. His crooked back arched over his head like a mountain, the protruding wart over his left eye, and uneven legs that bent inward. 

“You are not made like other men,” Frollo explained, gripping his fingernails into the top of Quasimodo’s back. The lad swallowed his spit.

“You are a monster because your horrid gypsy mother sinned greatly,” Frollo explained, clutching his fist against his chest. 

Quasimodo’s eyes widened. He had no idea that he had a mother. “What happened to her?” 

“She left this world, but not before abandoning you out in the cold city streets,” Frollo answered with a stern expression. “But I rescued you from death and have taken you in as my ward. And I expect you to obey my commands. So you are not to go outside the cathedral and you are not to run around out on the balcony without clothes on.” 

“Why ?” Quasimodo asked curiously. 

Frollo sighed, frowning at the lad. “Do you remember the story we read from the Bible last night?” He asked as he moved over to retrieve his book from the table.

Quasi nodded. “Y-Yes! It was a-a-about Adam and Eve.” 

“And do you remember what happened to Adam and Eve?” The judge asked once more. 

Quasi paused for a moment to remember. “They lived in a garden together,” 

“Eden,” Frollo corrected. 

“Yes, Eden, a-and then a snake told Eve to eat an apple because it contained…” the lad thought for a moment before he remembered the right word. “Knowledge! Yes!” Quasi answered with pride. “So she did, a-and then she gave the apple to Adam and he ate it too!” 

“And was God pleased with their actions?” Frollo inquired. 

“N-No, He wasn’t. He told them that they sinned and banished them from the garden.” 

“An adequate response, Quasimodo,” Frollo drawled as he approached his charge. “However, you forgot one crucial detail. After Adam and Eve gave in to temptation, they became ashamed of their nakedness. As a result, they sewed their own clothing to cover themselves.” 

Frollo opened up the book to the page featuring an illustration of Adam and Eve. Quasimodo stared at the picture, noticing how the leaves covered the parts of their bodies which Frollo was most displeased with. 

The Judge slammed the book shut and turned around. “Much like Adam and Eve, you will be punished for your disobedience and learn the importance of modesty.” Frollo told Quasimodo as he walked over to his room. Quasimodo’s eyes focused on the Judge, who gathered the boy’s day clothes and nightshirt, as well as the laundered clothes from the previous day. 

The Judge began to descend the bell tower stairs. Quasimodo tilted his head in confusion when his stomach began to growl.

“M-Master?” The boy asked. 

“Yes, Quasimodo?” Frollo replied without turning back to face his charge. 

Quasimodo paused for a moment, gathering the courage he needed to continue speaking. “A-Aren’t we going to have breakfast?” 

“I’m afraid your insolence has cost you your morning meal,” Frollo sneered as he descended the ladder. “I must attend to my duties as Minister of Justice. I will be sure to grant you lunch, given that you have learned your lesson by then.” 

Quasimodo became frightened. Master was going to leave him without any clothes or food.

“Master!” The boy cried as he sprinted across the loft. He climbed down the first two ladders as fast as he could without stumbling. But after descending the third ladder, Quasi tripped and fell down. As the boy got up, the towel around his waist loosened once more and fell off. The lad abandoned the towel in favor of continuing his pursuit. Right when Frollo was about to exit the door to the bell tower, Quasimodo knelt down and grabbed onto the hem of his robe. 

“I’m so sorry, Master,” Quasimodo begged, his voice shaking. He tugged at the hem in an effort to convince the Judge to change his mind. 

Frollo frowned at his charge, gripping his robe with his right hand. Quasimodo released the robe from his clutches as it was hot to the touch. A cold gust of wind blew through the bell tower, causing the lad to shiver. Quasimodo looked up at Frollo only to find him unaffected by the cold. Finally recognizing the severity of the situation, Quasimodo’s face reddened in shame as he moved his hands to cover himself.

“You really ought to be more grateful, Quasimodo,” Frollo told the boy, his voice dripping with malice. “I took you in and provided you with a home in the house of God. If anyone else had approached you first, they would have thrown you into the river to drown or have merely beaten you to death. I have rescued you from the unforgivable savagery of the masses. I expect you to be more obedient. Now go return to the loft and I will show you some mercy when I return.” 

“Y-Y-Yes, M-Master…” Quasimodo responded despondently. 

Frollo swiftly turned around and made his way over to the balustrade. The boy watched silently as his guardian entered the other tower and descended the steps. 

The boy stood by the bell tower door, thinking about what Frollo told him. Quasimodo often watched the world go by from the comfort of the balcony or tower windows. While some folks appeared friendly, he did witness some cruelty from time to time. From fist-fighting among some rowdy men to the flogging at the cathedral square. He even remembered watching an execution. The painful screams of the poor woman as she was burnt to the stake still rang in his ears. If the world really was so cruel to adults, he could only imagine what they would do to a helpless young child like him. 

Quasimodo closed his eyes. It was no use standing by the doorway if he had nothing on to keep him warm. He grabbed the towel from the floor, secured it around his waist, and made his somber ascent to his home. 

The lad returned to the bell tower, rubbing his arms to keep himself warm. After climbing the ladders he gazed at the discarded statues. The saints were dressed in fine robes while the gargoyles had no clothes of their own. Quasimodo stared into the eyes of his stone companions. Maybe Frollo’s punishment would not have hurt if he was a gargoyle made of stone. 

He stood still as he continued to gaze at the statues, assuming that they would hate him. Instead, he could sense the sadness and compassion in their eyes. It was as if they wanted to reach out and comfort him. 

“I-I wish I could do more to please my master,” Quasi admitted to the stone audience, hoping that they would listen to him. The sounds of soft cooing reached his ears. The boy looked up at the rafters to find the pigeons gazing at him. 

“Do…do any of you think I’m a monster?” 

The pigeons continued to coo from above. The stone saints and gargoyles still gazed at him with compassion. The bells emitted a soft melodic hum as sunlight poured into the loft. 

Quasimodo scanned around his sanctuary, which returned to a state of serenity now that Frollo had disappeared. But the lad wished for a definitive answer. “So, i-is that a yes o-or a no?” 

Two of the birds flew down and landed a few feet away from Quasimodo. The boy watched as the birds stared at him from a respectable distance. One of the birds found a small tassel that was detached from an old carpet and carefully placed it near Quasi’s feet. He knelt down and carefully accepted the gift. The world might think he is a monster, but at least the bell tower has gifted him with some good company. 

“Thank you, my friend,” Quasimodo said gratefully, cherishing the small humble gift. 

Another cold breeze flew into the tower. As Quasimodo chattered his teeth, he could feel his stomach growling in protest. He still needed nourishment and Master was not going to return anytime soon. 

Quasimodo trudged over to his sleeping quarters only to find his humble blanket. At least he had something to keep warm. The lad took off the towel and placed it over a statue of a woman with her arms open to dry. Noting the small tassel in his hand, he carefully placed it on the head of a discarded gargoyle. He then grabbed the thin blanket, covering himself as best he could. His stomach grumbled once more. 

Tears sprang from his eyes. Quasimodo closed his eyes shut as he shuddered from the cold, hoping that this punishment would not last long. He could hear the bells sounding out a tender lullaby as he drifted off into sleep. 

After a dreamless sleep, he woke up to a gentle voice calling his name. Quasimodo fluttered his eyes open to find Jean, the bellringer, taking his wool coat off. The boy panicked, covering the blanket over him. Master still had his clothes and the blanket was the only thing that shielded his modesty. He had only known Jean for about two weeks. Despite the man’s burly appearance, he was quite friendly. But Master’s lecture about the cruelty of the world sparked fear and worry. Quasimodo closed his eyes and buried himself underneath his blanket. 

He suddenly felt something heavy surrounding him. Quasimodo poked his head out of the blanket only to find Jean placing his coat over the boy. The bellringer carefully wrapped the coat around Quasi’s frame, covering the boy entirely. 

“Quasimodo, what happened to you?” Jean asked, his voice shaking with concern.

The lad cast his glance downward. “M-Master was mad at me after I took my bath. I-I only wanted to say hello to the birds. H-He took away my clothes, a-a-and he didn’t l-leave any breakfast. But I’m so h-hungry…” 

His vision began to blur as tears fell down his face. He never wanted to make Master that angry again. 

Quasimodo then felt a strong pair of arms pulling him into a hug. Jean stroked his back as the lad continued to sob. 

After a minute of comforting Quasimodo, Jean gently scooped the boy into his arms. “Come on, we’re going downstairs to talk to the Archdeacon. He’ll find you some proper clothes and give you breakfast.” 

The boy did not protest the man’s actions. Quasi rested his head against Jean’s chest as they descended the tower steps.

Jean brought Quasimodo over to the Archdeacon’s office. The older man’s eyes widened when the bellringer explained what had happened to Frollo’s ward. The Archdeacon motioned for them to follow him into the meeting room. Once inside, Jean immediately brought Quasimodo over to the fireplace to warm up. As the lad was accustomed to the heat, the Archdeacon returned, carrying some clothes in his arms. 

“Brother Don made these just yesterday,” the Archdeacon explained. “He is responsible for tailoring Quasimodo’s attire.” 

Jean nodded as he accepted the bundle. “Archdeacon Dupin and I are going to leave the room for a little bit so you can get changed.” 

Quasimodo stared at the bellringer as he accepted his new clothes. “Y-You’re not going away for long, a-a-are you?” 

“No,” Jean reassured. “I’ll be right by the door. Just give me a holler when you’re dressed.”

Quasimodo watched as the two men left the room, giving him his privacy. The lad dropped the large coat and blanket and quickly dressed into a soft long-sleeve blue tunic, purple vest, grey hose, and black leather shoes. The lad then hugged himself, feeling grateful to be fully dressed.

“I-I’m all dressed, Jean,” Quasimodo called out. 

The door opened and Jean entered the room, a smile now crossed his face. “Do your clothes fit?” 

Quasimodo nodded. “They feel nice.” 

Jean’s smile grew wider. He placed his giant callused hand on top of Quasimodo’s red hair, giving it a friendly tussle. Quasi smiled at receiving a nice display of affection. 

Archdeacon Dupin and two other monks entered the meeting room. The monks had carried two trays filled with food and placed them on the table. A large bowl of porridge, a plate of cheese, strawberries, and grapes, a goblet of milk, and a goblet of water was prepared for the young boy. The Archdeacon gestured for Quasimodo to take his seat at the table. The elder clasped his hands together and made a quick prayer. 

“ Benedic, Domine, nos et haec tua dona quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi, per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen. ”

“Amen,” Quasimodo repeated. The lad grabbed his spoon and began to devour the large bowl of porridge. Archdeacon Dupin, Jean, and the monks exchanged concerned glances. They were clearly worried for the boy regarding how Frollo had been raising him. 

“I hope you enjoyed your breakfast, Quasimodo.” Archdeacon Dupin told the boy.

Quasimodo swallowed the last of his porridge. “I-I-I did, thank you very much.” 

After breakfast, Quasimodo had a pleasant time becoming more acquainted with the other servants of Notre Dame. Jean taught him many card games by the fireplace, which culminated in the two of them building a small house of cards. The Archdeacon also showed Quasimodo around the nave and gave him a tour of the church’s library. He even regaled Quasi with a story about Noah and the ark. When Quasimodo asked him about the different animals that boarded the ark, the Archdeacon pulled out a book from the shelves and gladly showed him the different animals that decorated the pages. 

Jean and Archdeacon Dupin guided Quasimodo back to the bell tower in the late afternoon and shared an early dinner with him. When the Archdeacon was about to clear the table, they heard the door to the bell tower swing open. Frollo noticed the extra company in the bell tower and stormed up the wooden stairs. 

“What are you doing in the bell tower with my burden?!” Frollo snarled. 

Quasimodo panicked at the sight of his master’s furious stare. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, remembering his punishment. 

“The more important issue that needs to be addressed is why you left this poor child alone without clothes or food?” The Archdeacon retaliated. 

“The monster needed to be punished for his misbehavior,” Frollo defended. 

Jean was disgusted by the Judge’s cold response. “I found that boy shivering with only so much as a tattered blanket covering him. So your idea of discipline is starving the child and leaving him vulnerable to the cold?” 

Frollo’s eyes narrowed at the bellringer. “How dare you question my authority!” He scowled before turning his attention to the Archdeacon. “And just who is this peasant anyway?” 

“Jean is the new bellringer,” Archdeacon Dupin answered. “He started his job about two weeks ago. And I believe now is the time for him to announce the evening mass.” 

Frollo glanced at Jean, who shielded Quasimodo in a protective stance. 

“Come Frollo, I wish to speak with you after mass.” The Archdeacon motioned for Frollo to follow. 

The Judge scowled at Quasimodo, who shrunk back behind Jean. He could feel the flaming fury in those eyes. 

The boy clung to the bellringer, and even the Archdeacon and Minister left the bell tower. His breath hitched. Master was already furious with him, he did not want to imagine what punishment he had in store for him. 

Jean noticed how distressed Quasimodo was and gave him a reassuring embrace. Tears fell down the boy’s face as he buried himself into the bellringer’s chest. He knew that a monster like himself did not deserve such love. But he craved any form of affection that he grabbed onto it like a lifeline. Quasimodo savored the comforting hug as long as it lasted. 

“Archdeacon Dupin told me about Frollo,” Jean said softly. “And even though I can’t break his rule of bringing you outside the church, I’ll do everything I can to help you out.” 

Quasimodo shook his head. “Why…w-why are you being so kind to me?” 

The boy soon received his answer. “Because you’re a good kid who just needs some extra care and attention.” 

“B-But M-M-Master said that I-I’m a monster,” Quasimodo trembled as he tightened his hug. 

Jean carefully rubbed the boy’s misshapen back. “I’ve seen my fair share of monsters in this world, and believe me when I say that you’re not one of them.” 

The bellringer carefully loosened his hug to grab a spare rag from the table. He returned to give it to the boy so he could wipe away his tears and blow out the runny snot from his nose. 

Jean gave a sad smile. “How do you feel now?” 

“O-Okay,” Quasi answered truthfully. Jean’s smile brightened and he gently ruffled the boy’s red hair. 

“Hey, would you like to help me with ringing the bells?” The man asked. 

Quasi looked up at Jean and gladly nodded. 

Quasimodo looked at his reflection once more. For years he grappled with the notion of his supposed status as a monster from his appearance. Despite receiving kindness from Jean, Archdeacon Dupin, and the other monks, Frollo was still insistent that the world would revile his hideous form. 

He noticed the towel still wrapped around him and thought to himself. The mice did not shame him for approaching them this morning, even if he only had a towel on nor were they repulsed by his appearance. They were already incredibly accepting of him, even referring to him as a friend. 

The bellringer also grappled with the lies that his master had spewed over the years. Frollo did not take him in out of the goodness of his heart. Rather, Florika, the woman Frollo admonished, had rescued him as an infant. She accepted him as her son and saved him even when Frollo had her killed on the steps of the cathedral. 

The “gypsies” were not heathens or wicked people. Esmeralda informed him that the Romani were just average people trying to get by. 

All his life, Frollo told Quasimodo that he was a monster. A monster that people would despise and was to remain in the bell tower, and he accepted these things as gospel. But Pinky and Brain were the first ones to challenge that notion. They told him that he was a man like any other and motivated him to step outside the church. Phoebus and Esmeralda immediately befriended Quasi, and he found his calling as a sculptor selling his wooden figures to a growing number of customers. Sure, there were those who were frightened by his appearance and mocked him for it, but Quasi focused on the people who accepted him for who he was. 

Frollo was wrong. 

Quasimodo gazed at his reflection. “I am not a monster,” 

He loosened the towel, allowing it to drop on the floor with a soft thud. Grabbing his hose, he put one leg in, followed the other, and pulled them up to his waist. There was much work to be done today and he had to look presentable. 

Outside on the balcony, Brain slumped against the stone wall and curled himself inward. Pain surged in his cranium, no doubt a side effect of his hangover. The mouse let out a guttural roar, causing the birds that sat on the railing to retreat. The mouse stared sadly at the abandoned railing, feeling terribly alone. Brain massaged his head with his hands, making a note to restrict his mead intake the next time he was to visit a tavern. 

But the only pain that was more excruciating than his hangover was the thought of having jeopardized his relationship with Pinky. 

“I’m nothing more than a fool,” he thought. “How could I ever imagine that a romantic courtship with Pinky would ever come to fruition?”

The heavy toll of the bells alerted the mouse. He instinctively pulled his ears over his head to block out the metallic melodies and to hide his face. He could never bring himself to face Pinky, or the world for that matter, ever again. All he wanted to do was curl himself into a ball. Perhaps he could live out the rest of his days impersonating one of the gargoyles that surveyed the city from the cathedral. Yes! Maybe then he could find success as a stone statue watching the world go by without him. 

But the mouse soon frowned at the idea of a life without Pinky. Even if he did succeed in taking over the world, it would be all for naught if he was unable to share the glory with the cheerful imbecile who gladly provided him assistance and friendship. The megalomaniac let out a sorrowful sigh as he gazed at the stone floor. 

Brain knew full well that he did not deserve love from anyone, especially from Pinky. 

“Hey Brain,” a youthful, gentle voice addressed him. 

The mouse reluctantly released his grip over his ears and found Quasi, now dressed in his usual green tunic, brown hose, and blue shoes, staring concernedly at him. The bellringer held out a wooden goblet and a thimble. 

“Have some water,” Quasi kindly offered the thimble to Brain. “Phoebus told me that it’ll help ease the hangover.” 

The big-headed mouse gratefully accepted the thimble. He took a big sip to stay hydrated. “Thank you, my friend…” 

“Mind if I sit here?” The bellringer politely asked. 

Brain merely nodded. After Quasi sat down, he retrieved a hand towel from his pocket and placed the blanket over Brain’s shoulders. “Thank you,” Brain muttered, adjusting the blanket so that it was snug around him. 

For a couple of minutes, the friends sat in companionable silence. They quietly observed the birds that gathered along the balcony railing. Brain looked up at Quasi, recognizing why the young man accompanied him in the first place. There was no use in hiding his feelings any longer. 

“I feel like the biggest fool in the world,” Brain lamented, his floppy ears folding downward against his head. “I profess my true feelings toward Pinky, my first friend and closest ally, and he only sees me as a joke.” 

Quasi hummed sympathetically. Thankfully, Pinky deeply cared for his friend, but the bellringer just needed to remind Brain of the truth.

 “You truly care about Pinky, don’t you?” The bellringer asked. 

“More than anything,” Brain answered without hesitation. “He may be an imbecile, but he has proven himself to be a worthy assistant and my best friend. In recent months, I developed some… strong feelings for Pinky, and pondered if our relationship might evolve into that of the romantic variety.” The mouse frowned. “But it’s abundantly clear that I don’t deserve love from anybody, let alone Pinky! You heard how he laughed at my drunken antics.” 

Quasi frowned as he listened carefully to Brain. He knew what it felt like to not feel worthy of love. But Brain needed to be reminded that he does deserve to feel loved. Quasi carefully scooped Brain into his hands and lifted him up. Though the mouse was initially surprised by the gesture, he did not protest it as he settled himself comfortably in the bellringer’s palms.

“Pinky isn’t the type of person to make fun of you for expressing your emotions.” Quasi gently told him. “I know that Pinky-” But the bellringer remembered the promise he made to Pinky not to tell Brain about his romantic inclinations for his friend. “...cares about you.” 

Brain felt his ears droop again. Pinky was a loving mouse. It was in his nature to show love to everyone and everything with reckless abandon. Even though Pinky showcased his devotion to Brain over the years, he could not help but question if he even deserved that. 

“I don’t know what Pinky even sees in me.” Brain confessed, his ears pinning to the sides of his head once more. “I’ve endured a long string of failures with my goal of global domination. And yet Pinky chooses to remain by my side despite it all.” 

Quasi used his left index finger to gently tilt Brain’s chin upward so he could face him. Brain’s sullen eyes softened as he gazed at his human friend. 

“Maybe the reason why Pinky stayed by your side for so long is that he knows how much you care about him. ”

Brain raised his ears at the bellringer’s sage words. He had a difficult time trying to verbally convey his feelings for Pinky he did not take into consideration that his actions might have done all the talking. 

Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

“I appreciate the comforting words, Quasi,” Brain said, feeling strangely humbled. The mouse gently caressed the bellringer’s finger as a way of showing his gratitude for the advice. “But I would like to process these newfound emotions for a little while longer before confronting my best friend once again.”

Quasi smiled. “Take as much time as you need.” The bellringer gave Brain a gentle kiss on his forehead before gently lowering him back onto the stone ground. It amazed the mouse that for someone who was raised in an abusive environment, Quasi still turned out to be incredibly kind and compassionate. 

“I’ll leave you some breakfast for when you come in,” Quasi informed as he walked back inside. 

Brain took a deep breath. He adjusted the blanket around his shoulders as the cold breeze fluttered through the December air. Looking up at the birds gathered among the gargoyles, the mouse continued to ponder over the status of his relationship with Pinky. He was grateful to have such an exceptionally loyal friend over the years. Part of him was afraid that admitting his feelings to Pinky would bring an end to their usual routines that he had become accustomed to over the years. And yet, if Pinky did not think little of Brain for failing to achieve his goal, would he honestly belittle him for proposing the idea of sharing a romantic relationship together?

There was only one way to find out. 

When Quasi returned to the bell tower he found Pinky alone at the work table, admiring the model city. The tall mouse took notice of his figurines of Esmeralda and Phoebus, both of which stood by Quasi’s figurine doppelganger. 

“Oh, you three look so lovely together!” Pinky swooned, clasping his hands together. The tip of his tail turned into a small heart. 

Quasi blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, Pinky,” he said as he rubbed the back of his head. 

“Say, Quasi,” Pinky began, his eyes still locked on the wooden figurines of the bellringer and his two human friends. “Do you ever think that maybe you, Esmeralda, and Phoebe could fall in love with each other?” 

“His name is Phoebus, Pinky, and-” Quasi stopped correcting the mouse when the inquiry finally hit him over the head like a block of stone. “What?!” 

Pinky did not seem fazed by Quasi’s confusion. “The three of you seemed so happy last night. Narf! And I think it would be so nice if the three of you became a three-couple.” 

Quasi shook his head. In all his days observing Paris, he only encountered romantic pairs strolling the city streets. A person having more than one romantic partner seemed foreign. Surely Frollo would dismiss such a concept as sinful. But then again, his guardian proclaimed such normal trivialities as brightly-colored clothing and dancing to be sinful as well. Additionally, Quasimodo never pinned Frollo to be the romantic type either, since the old man never discussed romantic courtship in anything other than in a negative light. So it was difficult to picture an austere man like Frollo experiencing those types of feelings or even attempting to act on them. But the mice seemed to be incredibly knowledgeable of how the world worked. Brain was a scholarly mouse who approached life with calculated logic, while Pinky knew more about social matters. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to ask. 

“Do you know of anyone who had more than one lover at the same time?” Quasi carefully inquired. 

Pinky stopped and pondered for a moment. “Let me think…oh wait a minute, I did! Troz!” 

“Really?” Quasi replied, his brow raised upward with interest. 

“Back when I lived at Acme Apothecary, I courted Duchess and Thomas.” Pinky fondly explained. 

“Oh, so you fell in love with two other mice?” Quasi assumed.  

“Oh no,” Pinky happily waved his hand down. “Duchess was a ladle and Thomas was a cup! But the three of us shared the nicest five days together.” 

The tall mouse sighed as he reminisced about the short relationship he had with the inanimate objects. Quasi furrowed his brows, concerned that Pinky had romanced two items that could not answer back. But the young man realized his hypocrisy as he spent most of his life conversing with the bells and stone statues. So who was he to judge?

“How did you three manage to maintain a romantic relationship?” The bellringer continued. 

“Oh! By talking to each other and being honest. Troz!” Pinky gladly answered. “After all, a strong romance is built on com-moonication.” 

“You mean, communication, Pinky.” Quasi corrected. 

“Oh right! That’s the word I meant. Narf!” Pinky admitted. 

Quasi thought for a moment, taking in Pinky’s advice. Honesty and communication seemed to be important traits. As someone who longed to forge strong connections, whether they be friendly or romantic, he needed to possess those qualities. 

And yet, there was one other thing that poked the bellringer’s curiosity. “So what happened to Duchess and Thomas?” Quasi asked. 

“The scientists threw them away after using them for one of their experiments,” Pinky sadly answered. “My heart broke into several gooey pieces, but Brain helped me put them back together.” 

Pinky walked over to the figurines of himself and Brain. He scooped the Brain figure into his arms, giving it the biggest hug possible. “He told me that there was someone out there who would love me for who I am and would not hesitate to say it.” The mouse allowed the small tears in his eyes to fall. “For the longest time, I believed what Brain said, and after looking around, I finally realized that Brain could be that someone…” 

At that moment, Brain entered the bell tower. The short mouse gazed up at the table, noticing how Pinky gently held the Noodle Noggin figure. Never in his life had Brain felt so much envy for a piece of wood. The mouse took a deep breath. If he played his cards right, then his desire of being cradled in Pinky’s arms would come to fruition. 

Quasi noticed Brain’s appearance and smiled. “Good morning, Brain.” The bellringer greeted the short mouse. He moved from his seat and bent down to lift the megalomaniac from the ground. Once Brain was above the floor, he saw Pinky gently placing his wooden counterpart back on the ground and linking its hands with the wooden version of Pinky. Once Quasi placed his hand on the table, Brain carefully hopped off and reunited with the taller mouse. 

Pinky cautiously smiled at Brain. Though he was glad to see Brain once again, he did not want to scare his best friend away again. 

“Hi, Brain,” The Cockney mouse quietly greeted with a friendly wave. 

Brain silently returned the wave to show that he no longer had any hard feelings. This is it, Brain, He told himself. Just speak the truth.

“Pinky,” Brain began nervously. “I wish to apologize for the brash behavior I displayed this morning. I regret how I acted, and I hope that you are able to forgive me…” 

Pinky’s ears flattened as he saw how downtrodden Brain appeared. His friend lowly gazed at the hardwood floor, his big floppy ears pinned against his soft chubby head. Although  Pinky was relieved that Brain was no longer mad at him but pained to see just how sad he became. 

With two gentle hands, Pinky carefully cupped Brain’s soft cheeks, guiding his beautiful rose-pink eyes upward so he could see him. Now he had to let Brain know how much he meant to him. 

“Of course, I forgive you, Brain,” Pinky answered with a small smile. “You’re my best friend and I’ll always love you.” 

Brain’s eyes widened at the declaration. His ears sprang upward at the sound of that cockney voice saying what he always wanted to hear. “You…love me?” 

Pinky nodded, his blue eyes glowing radiantly. 

“So do you mean in a romantic sense, or platonically?” Brain inquired. 

“Plate-on-ically?” Pinky repeated, sounding rather confused.

“Do you love me as a friend?” Brain made the question much easier for his simple-minded friend. 

Pinky stopped to ponder for a moment, trying to focus on answering the question. “Well, I love you as a friend, but I would also love you the way couples do.” 

The megalomaniac was dumbfounded. He knew in his heart that he did not deserve to receive such love from anyone, let alone Pinky. Brain tilted his giant head curiously. “But…why?” 

Pinky stared into Brain’s soft cotton candy-colored eyes. “I love you because you’re so amazing, Brain,” the mouse eagerly answered, his tail swishing with excitement. “You’re so smart and say all of those big complicated words, and you never give up when things are tough, and you are so beautiful with your soft cheeks, lovely eyes, and big chubby head-” 

Brain’s breathing hitched. So Pinky did reciprocate his romantic feelings after all. Now it was time for him to seal the deal. 

Grabbing Pinky by the collar of his shirt, Brain swiftly pulled him into a big sweeping kiss. The tall mouse felt his tail tingling as it stood up straight. As the smaller mouse closed his eyes in ecstasy, Pinky was still shocked that Brain decided to kiss him again. Even after Brain broke away from the kiss, Pinky was rendered silent. 

“I also find you inordinately attractive!” Brain shouted. 

There was a long pause between the two before Pinky sweetly smiled at him. Brain blushed at his bold actions and he stared askance at the floor. “Forgive me for acting so foolishly, but what I mean to say is that I…love you too.” 

Brain felt a lightness in his chest for finally saying what he wanted to say for a long time. However, his pride and authority briefly took over him. “But don’t tell anyone about it!” 

A soft sniffling was heard from above. The mice looked up to see Quasi tearfully smiling at the mice. “I’m sorry,” he apologized as he wiped away a stray tear from his eye. 

The rodents smiled back at their supportive human companion. Brain turned to face Pinky once more. “No one outside of the bell tower is to know of our relationship,”

Quasi smiled as he locked his lips and threw away the imaginary key. Pinky quickly zipped up his lips. 

“Now listen to me Pinky,” Brain told his significant other. “I am normally averse to public displays of affection, but I will allow hand-holding and the occasional side-hug if the mood calls for it.” 

Pinky silently nodded, respecting Brain’s requests. “Are you still fine with kissing?”

Brain thought about it for a second before answering. “For now, the only place kissing is acceptable is in the bell tower.”

“Yay!” Pinky cheered. He scooped Brain into his arms and nuzzled his cheek. “Oh Brain, I’m so excited to be your boyfriend!” 

“The feelings are mutual, dear Pinky.” Brain replied. The megalomaniac stood on his tiptoes to give Pinky another kiss. This time, he wrapped his arms around the taller mouse’s head to deepen the kiss. Pinky gently cupped Brain’s chubby jowls as he felt his tail transform into a large beating heart. 

Quasimodo stared fondly at the mice as they broke away from their kiss. His friends deserved all the love in the world. 

Brain looked over at the bellringer and gave a sincere smile. “And Quasi, thank you for helping me earlier and for blessing my romantic relationship with Pinky.” 

“Three cheers for Quasi!” Pinky cheered as he scooped up Brain into his arms bridal style. “Hip, hip, hooray!” 

Brain smiled and joined in with his lover, raising his small fist in the air. “Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray!” Pinky added an enthusiastic “Narf!” 

Quasi felt his heart aglow. He was glad to see the mice rejoice in their newfound romance. They more than deserved to celebrate their love together. But the young man was touched that his small friends wanted to include him in their joy. Quasi scooped the mice into his hands and spun around. The harmonious laughter echoed throughout the bell tower. Even the bells themselves supplied a melodic hum in response. The three of them certainly had their share of hardship, but now was the time to celebrate their small victories and bask in the loving glow of their strong friendship. 

Chapter Text

After sharing breakfast, Brain decided to give Quasi his first lesson with the new curriculum. The megalomaniac prided structured education, and after seeing how the bellringer quickly absorbed new information, it only made sense to broaden the man’s intellectual horizons. The shorter mouse donned his graduation cap, black gown, and gold stole as he taught astronomy. 

“Now the astrolabe is an instrument that has been used by astronomers since the age of classical antiquity and throughout the Islamic golden age,” Brain explained as he showcased the device. “The astrolabe served many purposes, such as measuring the altitude above the horizon of a celestial body, identifying stars or planets, determining local latitude given local time, and vice versa.”

Quasimodo swiftly took notes on the paper neatly laid in front of him. But towards his left laid a piece of scrap paper, on which he discreetly worked on his drawing. After jotting his notes, Quasi gazed up at Brain, noting his serious expression, and quickly made some additions to his doodle. Pinky gladly inspected the illustration and gave a hearty giggle. 

The Cockney mouse’s delightful chuckle reached the teacher’s big floppy ears. Brain dropped the astrolabe. “Now what, pray tell, is so funny?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” Quasi fibbed as he innocently clasped his hands together. 

“I wasn’t admiring the adorable picture Quasi drew,” Pinky added as he batted his eyes. "Zort!" 

Brain frowned. He hated being described as adorable. The mouse marched over to the other side of the table and snatched the picture from his friends. His pink eyes scanned the paper to find a rather cutesy caricature of Brain dressed as a king, complete with soft robes, a crown, and a heart-shaped scepter. Brain’s kingly counterpart also held a soft expression, complete with enlarged eyes and an innocent smile. 

“While I must admit that your artistic abilities are quite impressive, I will not allow such lollygagging to go unpunished,” Brain declared. “Therefore, you must complete a five-paragraph essay on why I, The Brain, should be the rightful ruler of the Earth and how my reign will benefit all of humanity.” 

The bellringer blinked at the mouse. “Is that it?” No extra chores, slaps, beatings, or flagellation?

“That is all,” Brain replied. “I may be stern, but I’m also benevolent.” 

Quasimodo softly sighed. For years he had endured Frollo’s harsh punishments, from physical abuse to withholding his meals, which instilled great fear in the young man. So Brain heaping additional schoolwork on him seemed like a stroll along the Seine by comparison. 

“When do you want the essay done?” Quasi inquired. 

“There’s no due date, but I would prefer to have it complete sooner rather than later,” Brain answered with a nod. The mouse then took off his graduation cap and gown, revealing his simple peasant attire. “I believe now is a good time to conclude our classroom session.”

“Yay! School’s out!” Pinky cheered, standing up from his spot and raising his fists in the air in celebration. 

Although Brian rolled his eyes at Pinky’s goofiness, he could not help but show a small fond smile. “I suppose we should venture out into the city and complete our errands.” 

Quasi retrieved his blue cloak and adjusted it over his shoulders. After wiping the dust off of his green tunic, he grabbed his money bag. The bellringer was grateful for the money Brain provided him with last night. It certainly expanded their spending budget. He then retrieved two wicker baskets; one for his art supplies and the other for groceries. 

After collecting his belongings, the bellringer gathered the mice into his hands. The two rodents were comfortably dressed for the cold weather with their cloaks and hats. 

“Oh, I almost forgot. Would you like to review your revised alphabet, Quasi?” Brain inquired. 

Quasi smiled. He had briefly gone over the mice’s rendition of the alphabet the other day and greatly favored their version over what Frollo had taught him over the years.  “I’d love to.” 

“Excellent!” Brain said with a grin. “A?” 

“Abomin-,” Quasi blurted out but stopped himself in his tracks. Years of countless recitations became etched into his mind. It was going to be a difficult habit to break, but he knew that the mice would always be in his corner, encouraging him to be the best version of himself. 

“Forgive me…I mean to say ‘Appreciate’,” Quasi apologized. 

Brain and Pinky exchanged worried glances. “Perhaps we should put off your studies until later,” Brain gently offered. 

“Oh! Maybe we can sing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’!” Pinky chirped. “Brain used to sing that song constantly a while back and even did an adorable little dance!” 

Brain’s cheeks flared, remembering that horrid experiment when the scientists conditioned him to sing and dance to the sound of the gong. “I refuse to sing that stupid song and perform that dreadful dance!” He growled at Pinky. 

“Actually, I-I’d like to continue the new alphabet, if that’s alright with you two.” Quasi quietly interjected.

The mice shifted their gaze at the young man and smiled. They were glad to see their beloved bellringer wanted to overcome this obstacle. 

“That’s quite alright with us, my friend,” Brain replied as he and Pinky shared gentle glances. “Now, B?” 

Blasphemy 

Quasi shook his head, refusing to listen to Frollo’s booming voice. 

“You can do it, Quasi! I believe in you!” Pinky gently encouraged. 

Quasi gazed at Pinky and smiled. The mouse’s praise overpowered Frollo’s lingering influence and Quasimodo pushed himself to recite the words his friends chose. 

“B-Beauty.” 

“Yes!” Brain praised, triumphantly raising his fist in the air. Quasimodo smiled back, now fueled with determination. 

“Oh, can I say the next letter?” Pinky asked. 

Brain thought it over and then sighed. “Yes, you may.” 

“Yay! Narf!” Pinky cheered. “C?”

“Confidence!” Quasi eagerly answered. 

“Amazing!” Pinky exclaimed. “Alright, now four?” 

Brain’s brows furrowed. “Pinky, that’s a number, not a letter in the alphabet!” 

Pinky tilted his head to the side, scratching his ear. “But I forget what comes after C.” 

The megalomaniac heaved an annoyed sigh while the bellringer stared at Pinky with concern. “D,” they said. 

“Right! D!” Pinky blurted out. 

Quasi pondered for a moment before giving his answer. “Determination.” 

The three friends recited the alphabet all the way down the stairs and out the cathedral door. 

Out in the street, the trio made their way to the marketplace, eager to complete their errands. Quasi made subtle glances at the various townspeople who walked by. A few of them looked hesitant and fearful, others gazed at him with genuine curiosity, but many of them were ambivalent. He even received a few friendly smiles from the familiar faces that stopped by his art stall. Each and every day Quasi was beginning to feel like a regular Parisian. 

“Ah, the market,” Pinky swooned, clasping his hands together. “First we’ll buy burgers from the butcher’s, blintzes from the baker’s, groceries from the grocer’s, and season tickets for the Lakers!” 

“Cease your anachronistic jesting, Pinky.” Brain grumpily commanded as he grabbed onto Pinky’s hand. The megalomaniac interlaced his fingers with his lover’s. “And while you are correct in that we shall purchase groceries at the grocer’s, our other main objectives are to purchase Quasi’s art supplies and to obtain the cheaper ingredients for our potion!”

“Great!” Quasi exclaimed. But his enthusiasm waned when he realized a serious issue. “But I’m not sure where the art shop is located. I’ve only familiarized myself with the shops and vendors by the cathedral square.” 

“Fortunately, Pinky and I do,” Brain interjected with a smile. “We know our way around the city and are more than happy to serve as your guides.” The megalomaniac rode down Quasi’s arm and stood on top of his wrist. “There is a small store two blocks from here that sell paint,” Brain directed, pointing his hand to give Quasi a better sense of where he should go. “And the woodcutter’s stall is located near the market, and I believe he sells oak for a reasonable price.” 

“I appreciate the help, Brain,” Quasi said, offering Brain his hand. After scooping up the mouse, Quasi placed the megalomaniac back on his right shoulder to reunite with his assistant and lover. 

“Now, onwards!” Brain eagerly commanded. “We have many stores to explore and a large amount of money to spend.” 

“Egad, a shopping spree!” Pinky exclaimed as he hugged Brain. “Oh, I’m so excited!” 

“Don’t get too excited, Pinky,” Brain drawled. “The last thing I need is for you to turn into a shopaholic.” 

Quasimodo smiled at the mice, grateful for the assistance. He listened carefully to their banter as he made his way down the street to their first destination. 

During their travels, the trio spotted a familiar face in golden armor riding on a white stallion. Quasi’s eyes lit up in excitement upon seeing Phoebus again. It now just dawned on him how the radiant gold of his suit of armor perfectly complimented his blonde hair. But Quasi was taken out of his musings the moment he locked eyes with Phoebus. The knight was equally happy to see him and moved closer to converse with the bellringer. 

“Hey, Quasi,” Phoebus greeted. He then glanced over to Brain and gave a humorous smile. “How bad was the hangover?” 

“Excruciatingly bad,” Brain answered with a surly frown. 

“But you’re fine now, right Brain?” Quasi asked. 

“Oh yes, of course,” the megalomaniac assured him. 

“You know Quasi, if you want to go visit the tavern again, or explore the city, I’m free tomorrow night.” Phoebus offered. 

Quasi was glad to hear that Phoebus wanted to do more late-night excursions with him. “I-I’d love to,” he answered. But there was one thing that he wished to address. “Would it be just us two?” 

“It could if you want to,” Phoebus replied. 

Quasi then realized what he was implying. “But y-you could also invite Esmeralda along too. I don’t want to seem like I’m excluding her from anything.” 

Phoebus smiled. “Of course! Then it’ll be the three of us then, not excluding the mice.” 

Pinky waved his hand. “Oh, I’m sure Brain and I will do our own thing while you three stroll through the city on a lovely night!” The taller mouse wrapped his arm around Brain, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. To save face, Brain sneered at the other mouse. 

“Great, I’ll talk to her later on to confirm the plan,” Phoebus said. “But I’ll let you continue your errands.” 

Quasi nodded. “And I’ll let you continue your knightly duties.” 

The men waved at each other before going their separate ways. Quasi pressed his left hand against his cheek only to find it slightly heated with emotion. 

“Oh, Quasi, this is wonderful!” Pinky swooned. 

But Quasi could see what Pinky had in mind and was not buying it. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, Pinky. I’m just thankful that I’m able to spend more time with Phoebus and Esmeralda.” 

The mice continued to give the bellringer directions as they made their way to their first destination. When he finally arrived at the paint store, Quasi gazed up at the sign. However, he had his eyes focused on the beautifully crafted wooden sign when he bumped into a rather large fellow. Quasi stared up at the portly man, who donned a blue outfit complete with a matching hat.

The bellringer’s eyes widened with fear. “Oh dear, I-I’m so sorry…sir,” 

But the bigger man did not seem to mind. “Oh, dat’s alrights,” he said in a deep, dopey voice. 

“Ralph! What are you doing?!” A rough, older voice barked.

Quasi and the mice glanced over to see a short man with white hair dressed in fine attire, a blue cape, and a fancy black hat approaching them. 

“How many times have I told you not to converse with the other commoners when you are supposed to be assisting me with my shopping!” The old man berated. 

Ralph looked very sheepish. “D’ah, I’m sorry Monsieur Plotz.” 

Plotz’s eyes shifted over to Quasimodo, and a mix of fear and anger reflected in his brown eyes. “And what are you doing here bellringer? You and your rat minions should be back in the bell tower practicing spells on your rat army!” 

Quasimodo raised his brow at the accusation. “Rat army? Sir, I-I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

Pinky sneered at the noble. “We are not rats! Narf!” 

“And I am nobody’s minion!” Brain scowled with great indignation. 

Plotz grabbed Ralph by the arms and yanked him away. “Come on Ralph, you poor excuse of a manservant!" 

The group watched as the men walk down the crowded street. Quasimodo turned to the mice. “Do you two happen to know if there are other rumors about me?” 

Brain nervously rubbed the back of his head while Pinky fiddled with his tail. The megalomaniac decided to speak up first. “Well, Pinky and I heard some stories about you from the scientists and alchemists at Acme Apothecaries. Some of them referred to you as a spell-caster who had the ability to cause the crops to wither or change children into rats. Others thought that you ate stray dogs and cats, and I remember someone saying that you were a chimera come to life by means of black magic.” 

Pinky raised his hand. “Ooh, ooh! And, there were stories about how on one night a year, you would break into people’s houses by climbing down the chimney, eat all their baked goods, drink their milk, and in exchange you would leave gifts under their trees!”

“I believe that legend belongs to Santa Claus, my dear Pinky,” Brain replied nonchalantly. “a yuletide tradition that has yet to catch on.” 

The group turned around and quickly made their way into the shop. After opening the door, Quasi was slightly startled by the sound of a small bell ringing. Brain silently tapped the bellringer’s shoulder and pointed over at the little bell that was hung by the doorway. 

“I’ll be right there,” a middle-aged voice called out from the backroom. 

As they waited, Quasi inspected the many paints on display. The sound of footsteps alerted the bellringer. He glanced over to his right to see a man with brown hair, a muted orange tunic, black hose, and a tan apron. 

“Hello,” Quasimodo shyly greeted. “M-My friends and I are looking to purchase some paints,”

But the owner continued to stare at Quasimodo with a quizzical expression. “Aren’t you the man who sells those, oh are they called,” he pondered for a moment before remembering. “That’s right, those Noodle Noggin toys?” 

“I am…” Quasi cautiously answered. 

“My daughters absolutely adore those little toys!” The owner ecstatically replied. 

The bellringer was stunned by the praise. “R-Really?” 

“Of course, they haven’t stopped playing with those toys since yesterday,” the owner answered with a hearty laugh. 

“Well, I-I’m flattered by the high praise,” Quasi replied modestly. “It’s reassuring to know that the children get a lot of enjoyment from the figures.” 

“A noble goal for any artist,” the owner added. “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t know your name.” 

The bellringer loosened his shoulders, feeling more at ease in the conversation. “Quasimodo, but you may call me Quasi if you like.” 

“My name is Marius,” he said offering his hand, to which Quasi carefully shook. “Now that we’re acquainted, how can I be of service?” 

“Well, I’m looking for some paints, specifically blue, white, red, a-and pink.” Quasi listed out each color with his fingers. 

“I’ve got you covered,” Marius said as he gestured for Quasi to follow. The bellringer gave a quick glance at the mice, who silently encouraged him. 

The merchant picked out the specific jars of paint Quasi needed. The jars themselves were about the size of the smaller paint buckets he had in his loft. But Quasi was unsure if the medium-size jars would last him long. Considering how popular the Noodle Noggins toys were, the Big Ears figures were guaranteed to be best-sellers. 

“O-On second thought, I’ll purchase two of each color,” Quasi mentioned. Brain had won a sufficient amount of money from last night, so he was sure that he would be financially sound for some time. 

“Certainly!” Marius happily replied. 

Quasi happily gave Marius the exact amount of money for the paints. The storeowner bid him good day not before telling him that he was welcome back to the store anytime. 

Once they exited the shop, they noticed the Warner siblings happily sprinting down the street. Yakko and Dot played catch with a black hat while Wakko took a large bite from a pastry. The siblings gave a friendly wave at the bellringer and the mice before continuing down the street. Not long after, Ralph and a hatless Plotz ran down the street in pursuit of the three mischief-makers. 

The market proved to be an interesting experience for Quasimodo. The mice managed to guide him through the various stalls that sold produce, successfully acquiring the parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme for the mice’s potion. Quasi also managed to purchase some cheese, bread, sausages, eggs, and grapes. Some of the vendors were put off by Quasimodo’s appearance and only dared to make eye contact once the bellringer paid for the necessary goods. Others did not seem to mind Quasimodo and treated him as if he was just another regular customer. 

But the visit to the woodcutter’s shop was the other easiest shopping experience. When they arrived to acquire the necessary wood for the figurines, they come into contact with the two vendors, Robert and Maurice. They were a tad older than the other businessmen, but they proved to be as jovial and informative as Maurice. When Quasi informed him of his figurine business, the men were intrigued and even gave the bellringer a small block and wood and a carving knife so he could demonstrate. Quasi accepted the offer and showcased his carving abilities by creating a figurine of a bird. Impressed, Robert and Maurice guided Quasi over to their coveted supply of oak that they normally sell to artists employed by the nobility and the church. After Quasimodo handed them the money for the wood, Robert and Maurice promised to promote his humble shop to the artists that come into their store, even adding that he would make for an excellent apprentice if he wished to pursue wood-crafting as a full-time job. 

Pinky wanted to swing by the weavers to purchase some cloth and fabrics to make clothes from. Brain protested at first, but once Pinky wielded his powerful puppy-dog eyes, the megalomaniac relented. Pinky pulled Brain into a tight hug before purchasing as many colorful fabrics as their budget would allow. Afterward, the trio grabbed lunch from one of the food vendors. Quasi purchased three meat skewers to share with the mice. 

“I’d say that you truly found your calling as a craftsman, Quasi,” Brain complimented before taking another bite from his kabob. 

“Thanks, Brain,” Quasi replied as he adjusted the baskets in his arms. “Becoming a full-time artist seems like a lovely career, but there are a couple of obstacles standing in the way.”

“Like what?” Pinky asked, tilting his head. “Because if you’re worried about becoming a starving artist, then don’t listen to those rumors. You can just eat all the art you can’t sell! Narf!” 

“No, Pinky. The first thing I’m worried about is leaving my post as the bellringer.” Quasi answered. “Ever since Jean passed on, I remained the only bellringer employed by Notre Dame. It’s been almost seven years since and I have not seen anyone line up asking to become additional bellringers.” 

“Maybe it’s because you’re so great at your job that you scared away all the competition,” Pinky replied. 

“But then there’s the issue of Frollo,” Quasi added, his tone becoming more serious. “I can’t begin to imagine reverting to my old life in solitude when he returns.”

“Well Quasi, there’s a simple solution to your predicament,” Brain declared in a matter-of-fact tone, his hands clasped together. “I’ll hire an assassin to dispose of the Judge, and you’ll be able to resume your new life in peace.” 

“Brain!” Quasi chastised Brain as he pressed his finger against his mouth for even daring to say something so dark. “Look, I have a lot of complicated feelings about him, but I would never wish any harm to befall him.” 

Brain shoved Quasi’s finger downwards and frowned. “You and Pinky share this one thing in common: you both are pure of heart and too good-natured for this world.” Despite his tone, the megalomaniac did not see this as too much of a hindrance. If anything, the world could greatly benefit from having more people like Pinky and Quasi. 

The trio started their journey back to Notre Dame when they saw Esmeralda and Djali sprinting down the street. 

Quasi stared at her. “Esmeralda!” 

The dancer looked over to the bellringer as she and her goat tucked themselves into an alleyway. She put on her blue cloak, pulling her hood over her face as she placed an old pipe in her mouth. 

Before Quasi could question Esmeralda’s actions, he heard the sounds of clanging metal as the two guards from before sprinted down the street. The bellringer swallowed his spit. He did not wish to become a victim of their blatant abuse of power once more.

“You there, hunchback!” The mustache-wearing guard hollered. “Have you seen a raven-haired gypsy girl around?” 

Quasi’s eyes widened. He knew that Esmeralda was a good person and would not intentionally draw the ire of the authorities. The two guards standing before him must have accused her of a crime she did not commit, much like how they harassed him yesterday. But Phoebus would not be there to save them. So Quasi decided to copy his example and protect Esmeralda the same way the Captain protected him. 

“She ran that way,” Quasi lied, pointing down the street. 

The soldiers pushed past the bellringer, taking his answer at face value as they ran down the street. 

Once the guards were out of sight, Pinky gently pulled on Quasi’s ear. “But Quasi, why did you lie to them?” 

Brain let out a beleaguered sigh. “Pinky, my dear perhaps you are not aware of the popular commoner phrase ‘snitches get stitches’”. 

Quasi looked back at Esmeralda. “The soldiers are gone now, you’re safe.” 

Esmeralda loosened the hood as Djali hopped onto the cobblestone street. The dancer stood up, brushing her skirt down and adjusting her cloak. 

“What happened?” Quasi asked. 

“My band and I were performing on the street corner for coins when those soldiers began harassing us and accusing us of stealing the money we earned. The rest of our trope dispersed, but one of the soldiers grabbed Bandoje, our youngest musician. Luckily I commanded Djali to retaliate and he rammed his horns right into his backside, and little Bandoje and I managed to escape by going in different directions, but both soldiers managed to track me down instead.” 

“So they were just looking for any excuse to assert their authority over others,” Brain indignantly remarked. Why if I took over Paris, people from all walks of life would be able to move freely throughout the city without fear!

“I-I know how you feel,” Quasi admitted. “I was hassled by those same guards on the first day I started selling my figurines. I would have been apprehended, or worse, if Phoebus had not intervened. A-And I would never want anyone else to experience what I’ve gone through.” 

Although it pained Esmeralda to hear that Quasi also experienced similar treatment by some of the guards, she was comforted to learn of his empathy as he also shared Phoebus’s trait of wanting to help those in need. 

“You’re a good person, Quasi,” Esmeralda said sweetly. She moved her arms around Quasimodo and gently pulled him into a hug. “And thank you for helping me out.” 

Quasi smiled as he returned the hug. “You’re welcome.” 

Suddenly a crack of lightning raced across the sky and not long after the sound of thunder reached their ears. Droplets of rain began to spatter from the sky before they transformed into a downpour. 

“Just when this day couldn’t get any worse,” Esmeralda remarked as she covered her hair with her cloak hood. 

Quasi looked to his beloved cathedral and back at the young woman. 

“Come with me to Notre Dame,” he gently offered as he held out his hand. “You can warm up inside, and I-I have some lunch as well.” 

Esmeralda looked back at Quasimodo and smiled. “I’d love to,” she replied, clasping her hand with the bellringer’s, allowing him to lead her to refuge from the rain. 

Though Notre Dame was considered the soul of the city, Esmeralda had not gone inside the famed cathedral until Quasimodo invited her in. The building intrigued her, but she felt like she could not belong inside since her beliefs did not align with the majority. 

When the group entered the cathedral, Esmeralda was immediately entranced by its tranquil beauty. She followed Quasi as they walked along the lit candelabras, the glow from their light illuminating her face. 

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” Brain asked, noting the young woman’s enchanted expression. 

“I’ll say,” Esmeralda answered. “And you lived here all your life, Quasi?” 

“Yeah, but I-I mostly stayed in the bell tower,” Quasimodo answered honestly. 

“Oh, Esmeralda, you should check out the big rose window when it’s nice outside,” Pinky suggested. “It’s like standing inside a rainbow! Troz!” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” The dancer told the eager mouse. 

“The bell tower is this way,” Quasi gently told her as he gestured toward the stairway entrance. 

The group made their way up the tower steps. After twenty steps, Djali started to complain and Esmeralda carried him for the remainder of the climb. Once she arrived at the balustrade, she marveled at the view of the city. Even in the gloomy rain, she admired the gorgeous sight. She continued to follow Quasi into the bell tower as they climbed two sets of ladders to reach the top. 

Esmeralda gazed at the loft’s interior with intrigue. Never in her life did she live in or visit a home as spacious and inviting as the bellringer’s abode. Detailed miniature buildings and villagers populated the wooden table bolstered by a large wooden bucket and the legs of a broken statue. Just above the tiny metropolis was a mobile of various pieces of colored glass. Muted-colored fabric sheets and discarded stone statues were scattered about. Looking upward, Esmeralda noted the ten bronze bells that majestically surveyed the tower and its inhabitants. 

The vastness of the bell tower was a stark contrast to the many cramped living spaces she became accustomed to. From the small group of performers who raised her, to the small space in the wagon. But Esmeralda was not one to complain about the size of her home as she valued the connections she made with her people. As she remembered that Quasimodo lived in the bell tower alone for all of his life, she cannot begin to imagine how lonely it must have been. But judging from his wooden miniatures and the bells, Esmeralda could tell how Quasi gave the tower some personality with his hobbies. 

“You know, I never came across a home with this much space before,” Esmeralda noted as she inspected the tower. 

Pinky tapped Brain’s shoulder. “I think we should give Quasi and Esmeralda some time to bond.” 

Brain looked at Pinky and nodded. It was for the best that the two humans should spend some alone time together to strengthen their friendship. 

“Quasi, you have done so much for Pinky and me that we shall return the favor by making you and your new friends some lunch.” Brain offered. 

“Are you sure?” Quasi asked. “Because I wouldn’t mind gathering lunch for everyone.” 

“You are far too kind, Quasi. But we simply must insist.” Brain chimed in with a chuckle. 

“And I have been wanting to try out making some tea! Narf!” Pinky eagerly added. 

“Knowing your penchant for adding ludicrous ingredients, I’ll supervise.” Brain added. The last thing he wants is for Pinky to contaminate their drinks with too much sugar or sprinkle in paint chips for ‘an extra kick of flavor’. 

Quasi allowed the mice to hop onto his right hand as he entered the kitchen area. He grabbed the small amount of tea leaves from one of the cabinets and two wooden goblets. Then he led them to the fire pit so they could prepare the tea. The basket of groceries was laid on top of a wooden stool. 

Quasi gently lowered the mice onto the wooden stool, grabbing the basket of food and placing it on top of a discarded stone head. He then lifted up the kettle, noting that it contained plenty of water. “There’s enough water in the pot for all of us.” 

“Thank you, Quasi. Pinky and I will handle everything else,” Brain announced. “And hopefully, Pinky won’t set the bell tower on fire.” 

Meanwhile, Esmeralda approached the work table, her emerald eyes sparkling with interest as she scanned the miniature Paris. Each figure and building was lovingly crafted with meticulous detail. The sound of hooves hitting against the wooden table alerted Djali’s presence. She turned to find her beloved goat inspecting the small herd of sheep. Before the goat could indulge himself in a little snack, Esmeralda yanked him away from the table. 

“Djali, you can’t eat those!” She scolded the goat. “I’ll give you something to eat later, but you have to be a little more courteous.” 

Esmeralda then turned her attention back to the table and three small figurines caught her attention. They were small wooden replicas of herself, Phoebus, and Quasimodo all huddled together. The dancer smiled. The small wooden Quasimodo looked much older compared to the other two figures, which were more detailed and carefully crafted. But the fact that the three figures stood close together endeared the dancer. Quasi must have thought very highly of her and Phoebus. 

“You even made figures of the three of us!” Esmeralda said sweetly as she picked up the wooden bellringer and soldier. 

Quasimodo froze in terror. He did not make the figures of Esmeralda and Phoebus to show them to his friends. Now that Esmeralda had seen his creations, he feared the worst. Would she feel uncomfortable? Disgusted? Or would she simply mock him? 

“Oh, no,” He moaned as he ran his hand through his hair, his face red with embarrassment. 

“I think they’re lovely, Quasi,” Esmeralda told him. 

Quasi looked up to see the dancer smiling at him as she gently clutched the wooden figures of himself and Phoebus. “R-Really?” 

“Of course! You’re really great at capturing the subtle details.” Esmeralda complimented. “I can see why you decided to sell some of your woodcarvings.”

Quasi exhaled in relief. 

Esmeralda carefully placed the wooden bellringer and captain back to their spots next to the dancer, even clinking their hands together. “You know, if I could do something like this, you wouldn’t find me dancing on the streets for coins.” 

Quasi raised his brow at her confession. “But you’re a wonderful dancer!” He exclaimed. “I would have thought that you enjoyed dancing, do you not?” 

Esmeralda smiled at Quasi’s earnest praise. “Thanks, Quasi, and I do enjoy dancing, though I enjoyed it a lot more when I was younger. Just moving along to the rhythm of the music and expressing myself through dance was liberating. But when I started living on my own and had to earn money to put bread on the table, the dancing started to feel more like a chore at times. The additional challenge of having to perform for an audience that wasn’t trusting of me or my people didn’t help things either.” 

She looked up at Quasi, who seemed dismayed at her plight. “I still possess a love for dancing, but I have more fun doing it when money isn’t involved.” 

Quasi nodded as he listened to Esmeralda. “I-I understand how you feel about expressing yourself through something.” He said, feeling empathetic. “Whenever I feel alone, I’ve found that carving figurines helped. A-And of course, I receive a lot of joy ringing the bells.” 

The bellringer gestured to his beloved bells. “Granted, I haven’t lost my passion for those things…” 

Esmeralda looked at Quasi, noting the happiness in his eyes as he explained his hobbies to her. 
“I hope that you always enjoy doing the things you love, Quasi.” 

Quasi smiled at her encouragement. “Thanks, and I hope that continue to enjoy dancing.” 

“Egad! The water is boiling!” A cockney voice hollered from the other side of the loft. 

“And that’s my cue,” Quasi muttered as he sprinted over to assist the mice. 

Esmeralda followed Quasimodo, who began to point out the different “rooms” of his home. 

“This is where I usually settle in during cold or rainy days,” Quasi told her. “The kitchen and dining table are over there, and if you need to use the lavatory, you will find it behind the green curtain just past my sleeping quarters.” 

The mice gathered the appetizers of cheese, grapes, and strawberries on a plate when their human companions entered the area. Quasi grabbed the kettle from its holder over the fireplace and poured the hot water into the wooden goblets. 

Esmeralda and Djali settled themselves by the fireplace as Quasi handed her the cup of tea. The bellringer took the two thimbles and carefully transferred the hot water from his goblet so that the mice could enjoy their tea. Afterward, he grabbed two sets of blankets and two clean hand towels. Quasi gave the mice their own blankets in exchange for their rain-soaked cloaks. 

Quasi shyly approached Esmeralda, offering her the blanket. “You can warm up with this,” he told her. “I-I can also place your cloak near the fire to dry if you’d like.” 

Esmeralda smiled gratefully as she accepted the blanket. She unclasped the cloak button and handed her cloak over to Quasimodo. “Thank you, again.” 

Quasimodo smiled at her before placing the garments to dry in the outstretched arms of an incomplete statue of the Virgin Mary. When he returned, he joined his friends to relax by the fire. 

The friends enjoyed their meal in companionable silence. When Esmeralda had to use the lavatory, Djali approached Quasi, sniffing his plate. The bellringer gave him two small pieces of cheese and gently patted his head. By the time Esmeralda returned, she found her beloved goat resting his head on top of Quasimodo’s leg as he received an abundance of pats. Pinky shared his blanket with Brain, pulling him into a cozy side hug. Brain lightly blushed at the sweet gesture and discreetly held hands with Pinky as they sipped their tea. Pinky smiled and gently entwined his tail around Brain’s zig-zag tail for comfort. 

After a while, Pinky was the first one to speak up. “Oh, it’s so nice to hide from the rain in this cozy bell tower with such lovely people!” He swooned, clasping his hands together as he snuggled up against Brain, who kept his stern frown to save face. 

Esmeralda sipped her tea. “I agree. I just hope that it won’t be a downpour during the Festival of Fools.” 

“Egad, the Festival of Fools!” Pinky exclaimed. 

The dancer smiled at the cockney mouse. “So I take it you’ve been to the festival before?” 

“Actually, no I haven’t,” Pinky admitted. 

“Really?” Quasi asked. 

“But I’ve always wanted to go, but we couldn’t.” Pinky declared. 

“The apothecary was always open on feast days,” Brain explained. “Though we tried to sneak out of the lab to attend the festival, our efforts were met with great pain as we were repeatedly stepped over by the eager festival attendees.” 

Quasi gazed at the mice, feeling a strong sense of empathy. “That makes two of us, then.” 

The bellringer took a swig of tea and placed the earthenware cup back on the table. “I’ve always wanted to go to the festival, but Frollo always told me that the festival was a source of moral corruption. But I would always watch the festival from the bell tower. And with each year, my master’s words troubled me because it seemed like everyone out there was just having fun. There was music, juggling, and dancing.” 

“Poit! And lots of food, and balloons, and people in colorful masks too!” Pinky eagerly added, his tail wagging with excitement. 

“Exactly!” Quasi agreed. “But the thing that intrigued me most is all of the dancing. Even though Frollo always told me that dancing was a very sinful thing to do, most of the festival attendees danced to the music. And as I watched them, they seemed to be having a lot of fun, and I’m always puzzled as to how dancing is considered wrong.” 

“I don’t mean to offend you Quasi, but did it ever occur to you that Frollo is a certified stick in the mud?” Brain remarked. 

Pinky nodded. “He seems like a bigger cranky little crash queen than Brain is! Narf!” But when Brain scowled at the cheeky remark, the taller mouse gave a sheepish shrug. 

Esmeralda turned her attention over to the bellringer. “But you’ll be able to go to the festival this year, right?” 

Quasi shook his head. “I’d love to, but Frollo will return to Notre Dame well before Christmas. So there’s a chance that I might never step foot outside Notre Dame again as long as he’s around.” 

“You know Quasi, that assassination plan may be beneficial in the long run,” Brain quietly reminded the bellringer, but the poor young man placed his face in his hands and groaned. 

Esmeralda pursed her lips together as she pondered. Piecing together the information she received regarding Quasi’s home life, she assumed that the bellringer had a rough childhood. But it pained her to hear that Frollo had denied the bellringer even the simplest of life’s pleasures. It just wasn’t fair. 

“Well, if Frollo is going to keep forbidding you from attending the festival and having fun, then I have no choice but to bring the festival to you.” Esmeralda declared as she stood up. 

“What do you mean?” Quasi inquired, befuddled by this sudden development. 

Esmeralda offered her hand. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to dance!” 

Quasi stared at her open palm. He knew that going against Frollo’s lifelong teachings would make him absolutely furious. But the bellringer had already disobeyed his guardian’s orders behind his back. So what did he have to lose?

Quasimodo reluctantly accepted, placing his larger hand into her own. Djali got up from his comfortable spot and moved over to the other side of the room. When Quasi stared back at Esmeralda’s gentle face, his cheeks began to heat up at the thought of dancing with her. 

“Egad, a dance!” Pinky cheered. “This calls for some music!” 

The taller mouse fell off the table and sprinted over to the satchel. He was careful not to tamper with Brain’s ingredients as he searched for his beloved instruments. Fortunately, he found a small flute and a harp, both of which were constructed from discarded pieces of metal from the apothecary. Pinky happily skipped back to Brain and gave him the flute.

“Come on Brain, we can play some lovely music while they dance,” Pinky declared.

Brain looked down at his flute, feeling rather anxious about the situation. Although he liked to strum his lute now and again, he was nervous about playing in front of others. The shorter mouse looked up at his lover, noting the cheerful glow from his sapphire eyes assuring him that they’ll do this together. 

The mouse sighed. “Alright, I’ll indulge in your little musical session.” 

“Yay!” Pinky cheered. “Oh! We should play Big Cheese first!” 

Brain rolled his eyes. “So long as you remember the lyrics.” 

Pinky happily nodded. “Of course, I remember the words, Brain! Poit!” The cockney mouse strummed the harp, playing the melody of Greensleeves.

In Notre Dame, we're safe from the rain!

I’m playing my harp alongside my friend-

The taller mouse stopped playing the harp upon forgetting the lyrics. “Oh dear,” Pinky muttered as he turned to Brain for guidance. “Oh, help me, Brain. I can’t find a word that rhymes with rain. Troz!”

Brain gave Quasi and Esmeralda an exasperated expression before staring at Pinky. “Just stick to playing the flute.” Brain sighed, grabbing the harp from Pinky in exchange for the flute. 

Pinky merrily accepted the flute. “I believe you mean the trombone, Brain. Narf!” The taller mouse replied with a sly smile on his face and played a few notes on the flute, satisfied to learn that it was in tune. Brain tuned the strings on his harp and glided his fingers across the strings. 

Brain looked over at Pinky, who played a few notes on the flute. Even if that imbecile doesn’t know the name of his instrument, he sure knows how to play it beautifully. 

Esmeralda moved Quasi to a safe distance away from the fireplace. “So which is your dominant hand?”

Quasi hesitated for a moment. Even though he knew that she would not be the type to judge him for being a lefty, he mulled it over before giving his answer. “My left hand.” 

“Alright,” Esmeralda said as she guided Quasi’s hands, holding his left hand by their side. “Now I need you to place your right hand over my own.” 

Quasi nodded, following her orders. Esmeralda then gently placed her hand on his waist. The bellringer blushed at the gesture, his shyness increasing. He could hear Frollo’s lessons in his head, about falling into the temptation of the human flesh and his soul doomed for eternal damnation…

“So let me show you the basic dance steps,” Esmeralda’s gentle voice called out to him. 

Quasi blinked at Esmeralda. “A-Alright,” 

Brain observed the shy bellringer and empathized with the dread of performance anxiety. The megalomaniac normally did not care for what the common folk thought of him whenever his plans involved a performance of some variety. But performing in a more intimate environment startled the mouse.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Brain turned to see Pinky smiling at him. “You’re going to do great, Brain!” 

Brain shyly smiled, placing his hand on top of Pinky’s. “Thank you, my friend,” 

Esmeralda smiled as she began the impromptu dance lesson. “So first you’re going to move your feet forward.”

Quasi nodded as he listened to her instructions. During the first step, he was worried about accidentally stepping on her feet and kept his focus downward. But Quasi then felt Esmeralda moving her hand from his waist only to tilt his head upward. 

“I know how tempting it is to focus on your feet, but you’re doing great so far,” Esmeralda soothed. “Just keep your eyes on me.” 

Quasi nodded his head. “I will.” 

Esmeralda led Quasi through the basics, showing him how to move his feet. Quasi was reminded of his gait and almost stumbled. Thankfully, Quasi managed to catch himself on his feet and remain steady. 

“I-I’m sorry Esmeralda,” Quasimodo apologized. “My legs are uneven and I walk with an uneven gait every few steps.” 

“There’s no need to be sorry, Quasi,” Esmeralda reassured him. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

So the two continued the lesson, with Esmeralda continuing to show Quasi the proper dance steps. Although Quasi missed a couple of steps, he managed to pick up on his movements and catch on. 

“Now here comes the fun part!” Esmeralda said. “So I’m going to lift up my arm and I need you to do a three-quarter turnaround.” 

Quasi nervously gulped. When she lifted her right arm, he reluctantly began his turn to his right and lost his momentum. Before he completely lost his balance, Esmeralda gently caught him. The two friends broke out into light-hearted chuckles. 

“Let’s try that again.” She said. “So when I lift up my left, you’re going to turn on your left as I hold your fingers. And then I’ll signal the end of the spin by bringing down my right arm when you face me and I’ll draw you back in.” 

The two repeated the step, as Esmeralda lifted up her left arm, Quasi turned around to his left and soon felt her right arm on his side and was soon pulled back in. 

“See, you did it!” She complimented him. Quasi smiled back at her, feeling more at ease now that he accomplished the basics. 

“So now let’s try what we did but with music,” Esmeralda said. 

Quasi glanced back at the mice. “You guys ready?” 

“Ready!” Pinky cheered. 

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” Brain replied. The shorter mouse took a deep breath. He glanced over his shoulder to see Pinky giving him an encouraging smile. He was eternally grateful that Pinky placed his faith in him. 

Brain carefully strummed on the harp, his fingers delicately playing the opening verse of Greensleeves. Much like Quasi, Brain’s nervousness seemed to dissipate as he continued playing the song. He looked at his human companions, who began to dance to the music. 

After he finished his solo, Brain provided the rhythm of the song as Pinky played the main melody of the song. 

Pinky had his eyes closed, immersing himself in Brain’s steady rhythm. The gentle plucks of the harp kept him grounded from going overboard with his flute-playing. Pinky always had his head in the clouds, but he had Brain to guide him back down to earth. 

Quasi began to feel more confident with his dancing. The mice’s lovely music elevated the mood, causing the bellringer to relax his movements. All the while he kept his stare at Esmeralda, who seemed to be proud of his progress. At this moment, Quasimodo could not begin to imagine why Frollo felt so negative about dancing. It didn’t feel sinful as he was told. Dancing was rather fun!

When the mice hit the main chorus, Brain glanced to see Pinky beautifully playing the main melody. Brain was moved by Pinky’s musical talents. He was certainly a stronger flutist than a lyricist. 

The mice moved forward to the second verse, where Brain picked up the melody as Pinky played the background on the flute. The megalomaniac skillfully plucked his harp so he could compliment Pinky’s soulful foundation. 

As the chorus returned, Esmeralda lifted her arm up, giving Quasi the signal that it was time to spin. The bellringer turned to his left, his spirits soaring as he spun. The turn lasted a little longer, which Quasi did not mind. Esmeralda then placed her right arm on Quasi’s side and pulled him back in. 

“Do you want to lead?” Esmeralda asked. 

“I-I’ll try,” Quasi answered. 

“Just take what I told you but do it backward,” she advised as she placed Quasi’s hand on her side. 

Quasi took a deep breath. The bellringer moved back, allowing Esmeralda to move forward. He stumbled a bit at the start, but he was quick to recover. 

“You got this,” Esmeralda encouraged. Quasi took those words to heart and kept on moving. 

Brain started the bridge, with a key change, starting yet another solo as Quasi took the lead. The megalomaniac glided his fingers along the strings to create a hauntingly beautiful atmosphere. He briefly closed his eyes in contentment and thought of Pinky. He imagined a perfect future ahead of them. He’ll make his ascent to the French throne and rule the country with Pinky by his side. The two of them will feast on the finest of foods, and he’ll give Pinky the chance to live out his fairy tale dream and dance in the grand ballroom, dressed in only the most beautiful royal attire as their loyal subjects will gaze upon the mighty mice moving across the dance floor. Brain opened his eyes. He’ll make that dream fully realized, and include Quasi and his friends as well. Looking over his left, he looked at Pinky’s beautiful blue eyes and nodded, giving him the signal to come in. 

Pinky stared into Brain’s cherry-pink eyes as he received his cue. He played the flute, doing his best to follow the melody Brain provided him with. The mouse was consumed with euphoria as he played with his love. He and Brain could now go on romantic dates together like strolling down the street or sharing a fancy dinner! The possibilities were endless! 

Quasi and Esmeralda fell into a steady groove as they danced. The bellringer relaxed with each step. He could definitely understand the appeal of dancing now that he knew some of its basic principles. Feeling a surge of confidence, Quasi twirled Esmeralda around, her long hair and purple skirts moving in tandem as she spun. The two bubbled with joyful laughter. 

The mice Pinky then shifted their focus toward the dancing humans, feeling incredibly proud of Quasi. He had come so far and gained so much. 

When the mice returned to the chorus, they shifted their focus toward the dancing humans. Quasi was certainly in his element and Esmeralda was happy to be in his company. The rodents were incredibly proud of how far their friend had come. Quasimodo gained so much over the past few days, and they were determined to keep the momentum going. 

Brain and Pinky harmonized on the final note, glancing at each other lovingly. 

Quasi and Esmeralda broke away from each other to give the mice a round of applause. Even Djali joined in on the praise with a hearty bleat. 

Brain stood up from his seat and clasped his hand in Pinky’s, and the mice took a bow. 

“You two did a lovely job!” Quasi complimented. 

Pinky blushed. “Oh, it was nothing,” he bashfully dismissed. “But you two seemed to have a fun time dancing!” Pinky ears then perked up. “Poit! That gives me an idea! The four of us should have a dance-off!” 

Pinky grasped Brain’s hands and pulled him in. Brain felt Pinky moving him about and dancing against his will. 

Esmeralda chuckled at the mice’s antics. “I’d love to, but unfortunately I have to get going soon.” 

Quasi glanced over at the balcony door to find the sunshine peeking through the grey clouds. “Good thing the rain cleared up,” he mentioned. “I’ll help you gather your things.” 

He grabbed Esmeralda’s cloak from the Virgin’s arms and handed it to her. 

“You know, you three should come to visit the Court of Miracles sometime soon,” Esmeralda suggested. 

“Really?” Quasi asked. 

“The Court of Miracles?” Pinky asked. “Egad, are we going to be put on trial?” 

“Don’t worry, you three will be fine so long as I’m around,” Esmeralda reassured them, even giving Pinky’s head a soft tussle. “It’s just the name of the Romani safe haven in Paris.” 

The dancer then moved her hands behind her neck and lifted up a humble necklace with a woven amulet. “And Quasi, you’ve done a lot for me and I want to give you this as a token of my gratitude.” 

The bellringer accepted the necklace, placing the amulet in his callused hand. His eyes narrowed as he studied the amulet, which contained a giant blue cross, a small red dot, and blue and white lines. “Is this a map?”

Esmeralda nodded. “In case you ever need sanctuary from Frollo, you’ll be able to find the Court of Miracles with this. Just remember: when you wear this woven band, you’ll hold the city in your hand.” 

Quasi inspected the map once more. He noticed that the distance between the cathedral and the court was not so far, and if he ever needed to flee from Frollo, there was a chance that he would find refuge in the Court of Miracles. Touched by Esmeralda’s thoughtfulness, Quasi carefully put on the necklace and tucked it underneath his tunic. 

“I have to get going,” Esmeralda said. “I have to meet with Phoebus later today.”

“I hope you two have a good time together, and tell Phoebus I said hello,” Quasi requested. 

“I will,” she responded. 

Esmeralda spread her arms to the side, offering another hug. Quasi graciously accepted the invitation and enveloped her in a loving embrace, lifting her off her feet as he pulled her in. Both friends held each other close. As they loosened the hug, Esmeralda gently brushed her lips against the top of Quasi’s head, planting a small kiss on his hair. 

Once they slipped out of the hug, Quasi felt Esmeralda’s arms sliding against his own. Before they parted ways, he gently held her right hand. “Take care.” 

Esmeralda gave his hand a soft squeeze. “You too.” 

He opened his hand and watched her stride down the balustrade. Once Esmeralda arrived by the doorway at the other end, she turned around and gave her friends one more wave before beginning her descent down the tower steps. 

“You’re lucky to have a friend who cares about you that much,” Brain told the bellringer. “Although the world can be cruel at times, having someone to help you weather its worst storms is incredibly reassuring.” The megalomaniac glanced over at Pinky, who smiled back at him in understanding. 

Quasi looked back at the mice. “And I’m also grateful to have you two by my side,” The bellringer told the mice as he turned around to begin their ascent back to the loft. 

“So, what are we gonna do now? Narf!” Pinky inquired. 

“I suppose it would be best if we worked on mass-producing the Big Ears and Noodle Noggin dolls so that we can have an ample stock ready to sell by tomorrow morning.” Brain advised. 

“I can’t wait to see looks of excitement on the children’s faces when they see the Big Ears figures!” Quasi said eagerly. 

“Oh! Can I help paint the figures, Quasi?” Pinky pleaded. 

“Of course you can Pinky,” Quasi mentioned. “But before we do any of that, I need to ring the None first. 

“Of course, my friend,” Brain replied. “I wouldn’t want to deprive all of Paris of your masterful bellringing.” 

“Oh, I love listening to you ring the bells!” Pinky exclaimed. “You always put on such a good show, Quasi! Troz!” 

Chapter Text

Esmeralda busied herself with some errands before her dinner date with Phoebus that evening. She picked up some bread and cheese from the market as a gift to her beau. She then returned to the Court of Miracles to entrust Djali with Clopin. When she arrived, she saw Clopin seated alone at one of the tables, deftly sewing together a hand puppet of a big-headed white mouse. Two completed hand puppets of a white mouse with buck teeth and a red-headed bellringer sat in a pile to his right. 

When Clopin noticed Esmeralda’s presence, he grinned. He hopped over the wooden table and scooped her into a tight hug. 

“Esmeralda! Where have you been?” Clopin inquired. “Bandoje told me that the soldiers chased you down, and I was afraid that they had you arrested and sent to the Palace of ‘Justice’.” He released himself from the hug and sardonically added air quotes. 

Over the years he had seen far too many Romani being harassed and unjustly apprehended by Frollo and his minions for merely existing. 

Esmeralda understood how concerned the King of the Truands was. “I was over at Notre Dame,” she gently replied. “I bumped into Quasi earlier and he actually helped me out by giving the guards the wrong directions. Then we took shelter in the bell tower when it started to rain.” 

Clopin relaxed. “Oh, so you got to see the mysterious bellringer’s abode?” He asked dramatically. 

She rolled her eyes. “His home is actually quite lovely.” Her gaze trailed over to the table where Clopin’s newly made puppets laid about. Esmeralda walked over and inspected the hand puppets.  

“So I see that your new friends made a strong impression on you.” Esmeralda teased, picking up the Quasi puppet. She inspected the felt replica of the bellringer. His back arched like a mountain and the protrusion over his left eye was made with a neutral shade, contrasting his light skin tone. The felt Quasi held an endearing smile on his face, capturing his gentle personality. 

But Clopin swiped the hand puppet from Esmeralda’s grasp. “They’re not friends per se,” he protested. “They’re good acquaintances more than anything else, and they’re going to be involved in my latest puppet show.” 

Clopin placed the hand puppets of the mice, inserting them in his hands. “Brain told me about his whole ‘take over the world’ routine and I see great comic potential in that premise.” He gestured wildly with the mice puppets. “So, I’m going to create stories about Pinky and Brain trying to come up with grand schemes for domination and them failing spectacularly!” 

After discarding the mice puppets onto the table, Clopin reached into his crate and took out an intricate marionette of a red dragon. “So in this test-tun, the mice are going to steal the toenail of the fearsome red dragon.” He demonstrated the creature’s walk cycle by moving the control bars on the marionette. “But I don’t want to give too much away.” 

Esmeralda smiled at Clopin’s enthusiasm. “That reminds me, I was wondering if I could bring the boys over to the Court of Miracles tomorrow evening?” 

“The boys?” Clopin repeated flatly, his eyebrow raised. “Oh, you mean the mice and your guys: the captain and the bellringer.” 

“My guys?” Esmeralda thought. 

Clopin tapped his chin as he pondered. “They seem amiable enough. So I’ll allow them to visit our home on one condition.” The entertainer reached into his pocket and took out a pink handkerchief. “You’ll need to blindfold your knight in shining armor before you reach the hidden entrance and he can’t take it off until he steps foot in the Court of Miracles.” 

He handed her the handkerchief, to which she reluctantly accepted. “But Phoebus isn’t like the other soldiers.” 

“I don’t care,” The King of the Truands protested. “He’s still a captain who serves Frollo. I get that you care for him, but the last thing I need is for him to rat us out and put us all in great danger.” 

Esmeralda knew where he was coming from. She loved Phoebus, but she also loved her people and wanted them to be safe.  “Alright, you have my word.” 

The dancer turned her attention over to Djali. “Come on, boy.” The goat obeyed, trotting over to his owner.

“I got to get going. I promised Phoebus I’d meet him this evening.” Esmeralda told Clopin as she handed her goat over to him. “Thank you again for watching over Djali!” 

Clopin watched the young woman as she made her way out of the Court of Miracles. He heard pair of hoofs pressed against the tabletop and was startled at the sight of Djali eyeing his puppets as if it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. 

He lunged at the goat. “Oh no you don’t!” 

Esmeralda was welcomed into Phoebus’s living quarters later that evening. He gave her a quick tour around the house, and Esmeralda was a tad envious of his town house. Phoebus had many rooms, more than enough space for himself, and the commodities that came with a regular home. But the interior decor lacked the color and character that her home and the bell tower. She then remembered that he had just recently moved in after accepting his new job as Captain of the Guard. Perhaps his home will develop its own personality over time.

After showing her around his place, she took a seat on the couch while Phoebus gathered two chalices from the cupboard and a bottle of red wine. 

“So how was your day?” Esmeralda asked. 

“Business as usual,” Phoebus answered casually. “Things were orderly and peaceful for the most part. The only exciting thing that happened was stopping a couple of teens who were harassing an older woman.” He placed the cups on the table and yanked the cork off of the bottle. “I take it your day was a little more eventful?” 

“It was, actually,” Esmeralda said. “Two soldiers accused me and my performing trope of theft and they specifically chased after me.” 

Phoebus frowned. “I suspect this is the work of Charles and Georges. Did one of them have a mustache?”

Esmeralda nodded. “Yeah, and the other one was a portly man.” 

That’s them.” Phoebus confirmed. “They’re two of the rowdiest soldiers under my watch. They gave poor Quasi some grief over nothing and were close to hauling him away before I stopped them.” 

“I know, Quasi told me,” Esmeralda responded. “And it seems like Quasi is following in your footsteps because he saved me from an unlawful arrest.” 

Phoebus grinned, feeling very proud of the bellringer. “How so?” 

“He gave the soldiers wrong directions, sending them on a wild goose chase throughout the city.” 

The captain chuckled. But Esmeralda’s grin faded into a more serious expression. “But I fear that they’re going to keep giving us a hard time unless something is done.”

“I’ll supervise them on my next shift and make sure that they don’t cause any more trouble,” Phoebus assured. 

After pouring the wine into each chalice, he put the cork back on the bottle and walked over to Esmeralda with their drinks in hand. She scooted over so that Phoebus could join her as he handed her a chalice.

“Though my day improved significantly when I ran into Quasi,”

Phoebus’s eyes lit up at the bellringer’s name. “Yeah?”

“After the debacle with the soldiers, Quasi invited me to the cathedral when it started raining really hard,” Esmeralda explained. “We mostly stayed in his home in the bell tower. He even has his own work table where he made a miniature model of the city and little figurines of the citizens. Quasi even made these nice little figurines of the three of us!” 

Phoebus cracked a smile. “Alright, now I’m curious.” 

“You should ask Quasi, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having you over,” Esmeralda said. 

“You know, I’ve made plans with Quasi to explore more of the city,” Phoebus mentioned. 

“Just the two of you?” Esmeralda asked coyly, giving a faux-accusatory stare. 

“You’re also invited,” Pheobus quickly rebounded. “Quasi said he didn’t want to leave you out of the fun. And he’s bringing along Pinky and Brain too.” 

Esmeralda smiled. She loved the idea of spending another night with two of her two favorite guys (and the two adorable mice). “Actually, I was thinking that I should bring you two over to the Court of Miracles to visit.”

“Do you like it there?” Phoebus asked curiously. He heard rumors about the Court of Miracles from other soldiers who said that finding the Romani hideout was Frollo’s top priority. Phoebus scoffed at his future boss’s strange desire. There were far more important things than overtaking an entire neighborhood.

“The location of the Court itself is much to be desired, but it’s a welcoming community,” Esmeralda admitted. “I’ll inform Clopin ahead of time that you two will be coming.” 

“How come?” Phoebus asked. 

“Clopin does not take kindly to outsiders,” Esmeralda answered candidly. “In fact, he set up a gallows to do away with any intruders who are keen on exposing the Court of Miracles to Frollo or his minions.” 

Phoebus winced. “That seems like the opposite of welcoming.” 

Esmeralda sighed. “That’s his best method of dealing with threats against the Romani. After all, the city has not been so kind or fair to my people.” 

The soldier took in a deep breath, feeling guilty for his poor choice of words. “I’m sorry…you and your people should not have to put up with injustice and as Captain of the Guards, I’ll do everything I can to make sure your people are safe in the city.” 

Esmeralda smiled at Phoebus. She always admired his compassion for others and his strong sense of justice. She leaned in closer and gave him a kiss. Phoebus closed his eyes as he pressed his lips against hers. 

Once they parted, Esmeralda still held her gaze at her lover. “Don’t worry. I already put in a good word for you and Quasi. Clopin will grant you entry into the Court of Miracles so long as you wear a blindfold when we go through the secret entrance.”

“Just me?” Phoebus asked. 

“I’m afraid so,” Esmeralda admitted. “He’s more suspicious of you since you’re Captain of the Guards.”

“So he doesn’t want me to reveal where the Court is located,” Phoebus finished, putting the pieces together. 

Esmeralda nodded. “That’s right.” 

“But what about the mice?” Phoebus added.  

“They’re harmless,” Esmeralda waved off. “Oh, and Clopin’s been telling me about how he wants to incorporate the mice into his latest puppet show. He won’t give me any further details, but he said that the story will be a comedy smash.” 

Just then, the bells of Notre Dame played their melodic song. Esmeralda and Phoebus looked to each other. “Quasi!” They exclaimed in near unison. 

The lovers got up from their seats and moved closer to the window. Phoebus opened the window, allowing the music to come sweeping into the house. They gazed out to Notre Dame, contentedly listening and appreciating Quasi’s masterful ringing. 

Quasimodo, Pinky, and Brain spent the remainder of the afternoon creating more mice figurines to sell to their ever-growing consumer base comprised of children and figurine enthusiasts. Each Big Ears toy shone with two light blue eyes, a shiny red nose, and a bright smile, serving as a nice contrast to the surly Noodle Noggin toys. Quasi was nimble in his carving skills, neatly crafting each figure with great finesse. Pinky and Brain assisted the bellringer in the paint department, the taller mouse taking great joy brushing a lush coat of paint on each figurine. The table that housed the miniature Paris was now overrun by thirty-two pairs of Big Ears and Noodle Noggin toys. 

After completing their latest batch of figurines, the bellringer and the mice cleaned up the table and prepared for dinner. Brain guided Quasi as he cooked sausages by the firepit while Pinky gathered the cheese, strawberries, and grapes to share. Once the sausage links were set, Quasi briefly exited the den to ring the vespers. After the bells sang their evening song, Quasi rejoined the mice and prepared the table for their evening meal. 

“Thank goodness! Zort!” Pinky exclaimed, his blue eyes eagerly examining his full plate. “I have a bad case of the tummy growlies and this is just what I need. Troz!” 

As the friends ate, Quasi could not help but keep a watchful eye on the mice’s interactions. Brain had been greedily eating his enormous sausage when Pinky approached him with a fistful of grapes. Brain noticed the grapes and seized the opportunity to act like a Roman Emperor being tended to by his devoted servant. When Brain opened his mouth, Pinky plucked a grape from the branch and slowly inserted it into his lover’s mouth. The shorter mouse hummed in contentment, chewing the grape and savoring the moment. After swallowing the grape, Brain tore apart a piece of cheddar. He was about to hand it to Pinky when the lanky mouse eagerly stuck out his tongue. Snorting at the silly display, Brain placed the cheese on Pinky’s tongue, who quickly retracted it into his mouth. Pinky then placed his head on the table, his cerulean eyes sparkled as he gazed up at Brain with adoration. Brain shook his head. One look at his devoted friend, his lover, and he became weak. He placed his hand on Pinky’s large nose and lovingly stroked it. 

Quasimodo smiled at the mice before continuing to eat in contented silence. The sausages he made turned out to be quite good, and the cheese was a pleasant palette cleanser. But when he eyed the strawberries on his plate, his mind flickered back to the many morning meals he shared with Frollo. 

“Now. Breakfast!” 

Quasimodo sprinted straight into the kitchen upon hearing his master’s booming command. He gathered the flatware from the cabinets. The metal cup and plate for Frollo. The humble wooden cup and plate for himself. 

The bellringer rushed back to the table, his hands nimbly putting the flatware in their proper places. Quasimodo eyed his Master as he silently took his seat. He had not eaten since early last evening, well before sundown. 

Quasimodo’s stomach growled. His cheeks were set aflame. Hunger was a sign of weakness. “S-Sorry, M-Master,” he apologized, looking downcast at the floorboards. 

“You are forgiven,” Frollo dismissed without batting an eye at his ward. “Now, would you care to recite our prayer before our meal?” 

“O-Of course, Master,” Quasi replied anxiously. “B-Bless us O Lord,”

“In Latin,” Frollo commanded, his voice dripping with disdain.

Quasi quivered at his guardian’s blatant disapproval. “M-My apologies, s-sir.” He clasped his hands together and drew in a deep breath. “Benedic, Domine, nos et haec tua dona quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi, per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.”

“Very good, Quasimodo,” Frollo dryly praised, sounding rather disinterested. “You’ve improved your enunciation.” 

Quasimodo beamed at the praise. He carefully watched Frollo as he took out bread and sausages from the basket. “I felt a little bit generous and decided to bring you an extra treat,” Frollo remarked as he grabbed the strawberries from the basket. 

“Thank you, Master!” Quasimodo exclaimed as he reached out for the scrumptious strawberries. 

Quasimodo’s stomach grumbled loudly at the sight. 

Frollo withdrew the strawberries and clicked his tongue. “Patience is an important virtue,” he reminded in a condescending tone. “You must master the art of self-control. The common crowd is susceptible to the allure of temptation, so you must follow my example and rise above it.” 

Quasimodo bit his lip. He needed to appear strong before his master, but his stomach loudly protested. “May I eat now, M-Master?” 

Frollo stared at him and sighed. “Permission granted.” He placed the strawberries onto a plate and handed them over to the bellringer. 

Quasimodo bowed his head in reverence and quickly shoved a strawberry into his mouth. 

“Is everything alright, Quasi?” The soft cockney voice brought the bellringer down to earth. 

“O-Of course,” he lied. The bellringer glanced at the strawberry in his hand and shoved it into his mouth. Soon, he picked the grapes from his plate and devoured them. His mouth was hard at work, chewing and swallowing the delightful meal. 

“It’s very good!” Quasi added with a nervous smile. 

But the mice weren’t convinced. “Is there something bothering you?” Brain inquired. 

It was no use in lying to spare his friends’ feelings. Quasi nodded, letting out a long exhale. He cursed his weak façade. Even when he tried to cover up his own emotions people could read him like an open book. 

“I must head downstairs to speak with the Archdeacon about something very important,” Quasi told the mice. “I won’t be long, and I’ll explain everything when I come back.” 

The bellringer gathered his belongings and returned his dinnerware to the kitchen to be washed later on. Grabbing the cloak off of his favorite stone gargoyle, Laverne, he dashed out of the loft. 

The mice stared at each other. The candlelit dinner’s romantic ambiance faded into an awkward silence. 

Though the bellringer departed from the tower, Brain longed for his presence. His gentle and comforting presence made it easier for Brain to open up his vulnerable side. All he could do is nervously stare at Pinky. Those beautiful blue eyes sparkled and his snowy fur absorbed the moonlight. 

Brain drummed his fingers against the table. He needed to fill the silence with something. Playful banter. Meaningless conversation. Anything!

“So, Pinky,” Brain said. “Is there anything you wish to talk about?” 

Pinky tapped his chin as he pondered. “Hmm, let me think…” But as he thought hard, he yelped at the tight pain in his cranium. “Ow! I think I pulled my thinking muscle again.” 

Brain exhaled through his nose. Of course. He has to do all of the heavy lifting. “Maybe I should do the talking.” 

“So what do you want to talk about, Brain?” Pinky asked innocently, tilting his head adorably. 

Brain blushed at the sight of his endearing beau. The megalomaniac glanced over at the candle and immediately thought of an interesting topic to discuss. 

“Say, do you know about the different methods of candle-making?” Brain asked.

Pinky shook his head. 

“Then prepared to be educated, dear Pinky!” Brain exclaimed. “In the early ages, candles were made out of tallow, which emitted a horrible stench. Fortunately, there has been a breakthrough in the past two centuries in which candles could be made from beeswax.” 

Pinky tried to listen to Brain’s passionate lecture about candles, but his mind couldn’t figure out those big smart-sounding words he was saying. Instead, the mouse focused on more interesting. Like Brain’s soft squishy head! Oh, it was so big and chubby. It almost looked like a furry apple! Apples are red! And so are roses! Although roses could sometimes be pink too. Egad! Brain’s eyes are the same color as the pink roses!

“Now beeswax is a more expensive commodity, which is normally shipped from Egypt, and-” but Brain looked over at Pinky, only to find him staring dreamily into his eyes. 

“Did you comprehend any of that?” Brain asked. 

“Oh yes, I caught every word!” Pinky replied with a sheepish grin. “Zort!” 

Brain soured at that verbal tic, for he knew that Pinky would always end his lies with the word ‘zort’. 

Pinky faltered under the megalomaniacs’ hardened stare. Now he felt incredibly guilty. Brain only wanted to talk about one of his interests and he was too distracted to listen to him. 

“Only the part when you said ‘different methods of candle-making’. ” Pinky answered honestly, his eyes cast downward. “I’m sorry Brain! I was too distracted by your pretty, rose-pink eyes!” 

The smaller mouse blushed at the compliment. “Well, that’s very kind of you to say, Pinky.” 

Brain sighed in defeat and decided to continue consuming his meal. Pinky drooped his ears in guilt. He didn’t want Brain to feel bad for him. The taller mouse scanned the table, noting the different patterns on the surface. 

“Say Brain, that spot right over there looks like a giant pomegranate! Troz!” 

Brain looked over at the peculiar spot. After looking at it from a different angle, he could see the resemblance. But Pinky becoming excited about pomegranates reminded Brain of something else entirely. 

“So Pinky, are you aware of the Greek legend of Hades and Persephone?” Brain inquired, straightening his posture. 

Pinky cupped his cheeks. “Egad! Is it a scary story? Because you know I don’t like to hear scary stories before bedtime.” 

Brain chuckled lightly. He carefully pried Pinky’s hands from his cheeks and caressed them in his hold. “No, Pinky. Although it’s regarded as a tragedy in many circles, although others have interpreted it as a romance.”

Pinky’s cerulean orbs sparkled.“Narf! A romance! Oh please tell me the romantic version, Brain!” The mouse exclaimed, squeezing his lover’s hands in an effort to exert his excitement. 

“Very well, Pinky,” Brain surrendered. “Long ago, Hades ruled over the underworld but was incredibly lonely since all the other gods and goddesses resided in Mount Olympus. Not to mention that ruling over the dead was not the most enticing occupation.” 

Pinky hummed. “That doesn’t sound like too much fun then?”

“But then we have our leading lady, Persephone, goddess of the flower and daughter of Zeus, the head honcho of the gods, and Demeter, the goddess of agriculture. Persephone was a gentle and kind young goddess.”

“So when’s the meet-cute?” Pinky asked excitedly, his legs bouncing a mile a second. 

“I hate to disappoint you, my dear, but it wasn’t much of a meet-cute as it was a kidnapping.” Brain answered truthfully. 

Pinky’s smile escaped from his face. “Poit. Oh dear.” 

“One day, Hades rode his chariot over Earth and was captivated by Persephone’s alluring beauty. So without another word, he scooped her onto his vehicle and they rode off into the underworld.” 

“Well that doesn’t sound very romantic,” Pinky argued. 

“To be fair, many Greek myths handle romance quite poorly.” Brain remarked. 

“So did Persephone ever return home?” Pinky asked. 

“She did, after spending some time with Hades and ruling the underworld by his side.” Brain responded. “Demeter caught wind of what happened and send Hermes down to retrieve her daughter. But during that time, Hades offered Persephone some pomegranate seeds, though eating them would result in being permanently tied to the underworld. After Persephone returned home, it was revealed that she had consumed the pomegranate seeds, and as a result, she was bound to the underworld. Fortunately, she managed to spend six months of the year with her family and the other half in the underworld with Hades.” 

“But did Persephone and Hades love each other?” Pinky inquired.  

Brain took Pinky’s hands into his once more. “Well, of the many romantic relationships in Greek mythology, that of Hades and Persephone is arguably the healthiest.” The megalomaniac replied. “They did rule the underworld together, and Persephone was proven to be a fair leader, especially in the case of Orpheus and Eurydice.” 

“Ooh, Orpheus and Eurydice! Those are such lovely names. Narf!” Pinky said, sweetly clasping his hands together. “Are they another romantic couple too, Brain?” 

“They are Pinky, but their story is far more tragic.” Brain answered. “I don’t think you want to hear of their sad tale.” 

Pinky gasped dramatically. “But now I really want to know!” The taller mouse placed his hands on his cheeks, squishing them in excitement. “Come on, Brain. I can take on the angst! Zort!” 

Brain darkly chuckled to himself. “Very well, Pinky. But don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” 

Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti

Beatae Mariae semper Virgini

Beato Michaeli archangelo

Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis

Quasimodo listened to the pious chants as he descended the tower steps. Upon approaching the entrance to the nave, he paused to observe his serene surroundings. Incense lingered in the air. The stained glass windows, which were normally filled with jewel-toned color, absorbed the darkness of night. The young man looked around to find Archdeacon Dupine and the other priests about to disperse from their small congregation. 

The bellringer cautiously made his way toward the small group. He saw the Archdeacon catching a glimpse of him. 

Archdeacon Dupin smiled. “Good evening, Quasimodo.” The other priests lifted the hoods, gently smiling at the bellringer’s presence. 

Quasimodo respectfully bowed his head. “Good evening, Father.” He deeply inhaled before ushering his request. “I-If it’s not too much trouble, sir, may I speak to you.” 

“Of course, my son,” The Archdeacon gently insisted, gesturing him to follow him. Quasimodo nodded and trailed behind the elder as he was led to his office. 

After opening the door, Archdeacon Dupin entered the room and seated himself behind his desk. He looked up to see Quasimodo shyly fiddling with his hands by the doorframe. 

“Come in,” The Archdeacon offered. 

Quasimodo glanced up at the older man and nodded. He cautiously entered the office, taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk. 

“So how have you been, Quasimodo?” The Archdeacon asked. 

“I’ve been doing great, a-actually,” Quasi replied. “My art business has been doing well. I’ve met a lot of people and even made some new friends. A-And I’ve explored some parts of the city too.” His smile soon faltered. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and exhaled the air from his mouth. He needed to have this said and done if he is to receive closure. 

“Actually, I’m here because I want to ask you something about my mas-, I mean, Frollo.” 

The Archdeacon’s smile faded from his face and tensed at the subject. “Go on,” 

“There’s…there’s something I must know…” Quasi began hesitantly. “All my life, my master told me that I was abandoned as a baby and that he took me in when no one else would.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “But I’ve been informed that Frollo actually killed my mother, who was only trying to save me.”

The Archdeacon froze in his seat. 

“Is that true?”

Silence flooded the room. Quasi stared at Archdeacon Dupin, noticing the deep sorrow in his expression. Perhaps he crossed a line with his inquiry. 

Before Quasimodo could apologize, Archdeacon Dupin exhaled. “Yes, Quasimodo, it’s true.” 

Quasi noticed how hurt the Archdeacon looked. “Did my question offend you, sir?” 

“No, no, my son,” The elder reassured. “I’m just severely disappointed in Frollo for hiding the truth from you,” his voice strained with betrayal and sorrow. “and you deserve to know the whole truth.” 

Quasi straightened his posture as much as he could. Archdeacon Dupin cleared his throat and then folded his hands together. 

“On that night, about twenty years ago, I heard a banging on the front door,” The Archdeacon recalled, trying to keep his voice firm. “I hurried as best I could to answer the call, but when I opened the portal entrance I was too late. I found a young woman lying on the front steps of the church. But I also heard an infant's cry and I turned to find Claude Frollo attempting to throw the babe down the well.” 

“So he did try to drown me…” Quasi mentioned. Now everything in Clopin’s story was adding up. “And you...you saved my life,” he glanced up at the older man, his voice oozed with gratefulness.

The Archdeacon reluctantly nodded. “I intervened and called out Frollo for his hypocrisy and heinous actions against the church. And it seemed that my words wracked Frollo’s soul as he begged for repentance. And…” his voice wavered, struggling to get the words out. “And against my better judgment, I decided to place you under his care.”

Quasi stared in shock. All he could do was softly mutter “What?” 

The Archdeacon shamefully glanced downward. “I had hoped that Frollo would come to regret his actions, atone for his sins, and open his heart by raising you. But I was naive in thinking that he would truly change his ways.” 

The Archdeacon squeezed his hands together. “He insisted that you reside in the bell tower so that no one should ever see you. I and the rest of the clergy thought it was ludicrous, as you are made in God’s image and are deserving of the same freedoms as the rest of His children. We tried our best to intervene on your behalf and even confronted Frollo about his strict rules on several occasions.” 

Quasimodo nodded. He remembered the instances in which the Archdeacon or one of the priests filled in for Frollo when he was too busy to visit the cathedral. They indulged him with additional treats like plums and jam during meals, allowed him access to the cathedral library, and explore the church garden. The previous bellringer Jean had been more than happy to keep him company, and, in retrospect, had proven to be a more loving father figure than Frollo ever was. The Archdeacon had proven to be a great source of comfort when he needed it most. Yet, despite their efforts, they were unable to completely protect him from Frollo’s abuse. They allowed it to happen.

“But it wasn’t enough,” the Archdeacon continued with a frown. “Frollo still hurt you and we failed you. Not protecting your mother when she called for sanctuary and subsequently putting your life in her murderer’s hands were the biggest regrets of my life. And for that, I am deeply sorry for not having done more to save the both of you from Frollo’s clutches.” 

Quasimodo took a deep breath. It was reassuring to hear the Archdeacon regret his past mistakes and earnestly own up to them.

“Quasimodo, I may not have known your mother personally, but I know that she loved you, so much so that she spent her last moments on this earth trying to save you.” The Archdeacon said.

“Florika,” Quasi mentioned. “I-I learned from a friend that her name was Florika. A-And that she found me as an abandoned infant and took me in as her son.” 

The Archdeacon sadly smiled. “Florika…” he repeated with reverence. “Such a beautiful name.” Quasimodo gave a small smile of his own, nodding in agreement. 

After taking a deep breath, he got up from his seat. “I suppose I should return to the tower. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me, Father,” he looked up at the Archdeacon and gave him a small, sad smile. “And thank you for telling me the truth.” 

Archdeacon Dupin drew in a staggered breath. The guilt of his inactions and poor judgment of that night haunted him for years. He could not afford himself forgiveness and even expected Quasimodo to detest him. So it came as a surprise to learn that the bellringer did not seem to harbor any ill will towards him specifically. 

Once the Archdeacon regained composure, he looked at the bellringer. “You’re welcome, Quasimodo. Sleep well, my son.” 

Quasi nodded silently before departing from the Archdeacon’s office. 

After the bellringer left, Archdeacon Dupin clasped his hands together and prayed for Florika and Quasimodo.

The trip back to the bell tower was filled with tense silence. Quasimodo was wracked with several emotions as he ascended the tower steps. 

All of his life, he wanted nothing more than to please Frollo and to receive his love. Quasimodo accepted every lesson Frollo fed him, obeyed his orders, and was grateful that his Master put up with someone who was ‘half-formed’. He only lived to serve Frollo first and God second. But while Quasimodo learned of God’s unconditional love, he now came to realize that Frollo never loved him at all. 

He should have known that Frollo never cared for him, or considered him to be a son. Frollo instilled in Quasi the belief that he was just a burden. An abomination. A monster.

But now Quasimodo came to recognize that those were all lies. He knew now that he was nothing more than an innocent man imprisoned by the monster who mercilessly robbed him of a loving mother and what could have been a normal childhood.

All the time and energy Quasimodo put in to earn Frollo’s love was rendered moot. 

Once Quasimodo reached the door to the balustrade, he noticed the snowflakes drifting along the December winds and the small coat of snow covering the stone floor. He slowly hobbled along the snowy path but could not avoid the hushed beauty of the city landscape. Halfway through the balustrade, Quasi leaned against the rail to observe the sight. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the cool December breeze as he stared up at the glittering stars illuminating the night sky. But the marvelous view did not prove to be a powerful distraction. 

The flakes now served as a reminder of that snowy night Frollo assumed control over his life. His mind reeled back to one of the “lessons” Frollo bestowed upon him as they gazed at the city together. 

“Remember Quasimodo, this city is a cesspool of vice and sin. The vulgar crowd will simply revile you. Therefore, you are to remain here forever.” 

Quasimodo gasped. He could feel Frollo’s cold hand gripping his shoulder. The bellringer stumbled backward, clutching his chest. Quasimodo sprinted down the balustrade to escape Frollo’s cruel voice. 

Upon entering the north tower, he dared glance back only to find the balustrade empty. Quasimodo’s stopped running. His shallow breaths evened out. Anxiety turned into anger. 

When he finally arrived at his loft, Quasimodo stomped across the floor. He was sick and tired of carrying the weight of Frollo’s harsh words, he roared. The sound of his fury echoed throughout the tower as the bells reverberated his guttural anguish. 

The mice twitched their ears and jerked their heads over to find Quasimodo furiously moving into the light. Pinky and Brain exchanged worried glances. 

“Did…something happen when you talked to the Archdeacon?” Brain gingerly inquired. 

“Yes,” Quasimodo bitterly answered. His breathing sharpened and a loud growl ripped from his throat. “I received the answers I needed, and now I know that my life was nothing more than a lie!” 

The mice were taken aback by how furious their dear friend became. They instinctively held onto each other as they watched stomp around the room. The way their normally gentle friend turned furiously angry was a frightening sight to behold. 

Brain heard Pinky’s whimpering and took his hands into his before casting a quick glance into his eyes. “He’s not mad at us, just Frollo,” he wanted to say. Instead, he opted to give Pinky’s hands a gentle squeeze. 

“All of my life, I believed that Frollo took me in out of the goodness of his heart and tried to protect me from the world.” Quasimodo angrily ranted, his voice booming with hurt and frustration. “I accepted every lesson he fed to me, about how the world worked, o-or how I was unworthy of love and acceptance from anybody.” he counted on his fingers before flailing his arms about. “But now that I’ve gone out there, I realize that his teachings were a sham! But worst of all, I finally recognize that the man who claimed that my mother abandoned me was the one who killed her in cold blood and only raised me out of guilt for his own soul!” 

Quasimodo strode toward the work table and plucked the Frollo figurine. The wooden replica of his guardian looked so plain and simple compared to his intimidating and ruthless counterpart. As he stared into the Frollo figurine, he took a deep breath. His anger cooled into bitter disappointment and shook his head. “I should have known better,” Quasi lowly admitted, his eyes gleaming with sorrow. “I was so stupid to believe that Frollo ever loved me. I thought that underneath his stern exterior, he would have had a shred of compassion for me. But he never showed anything other than contempt and disappointment even though I did my best to be a good son.” 

The mice folded their ears downward as they listened to their friend. He had not done anything to deserve such treatment. Pinky sniffled as his eyes teared up. 

The bellringer tossed the Frollo figure aside. Shaking his head, he looked up at the mice. “Did I ever tell you two that Frollo specifically forbade me from calling him father?” He ran his hand through his hair as tears began to flood his eyes. “I just wanted to have a family, just like- just like all of the people I see strolling around the city. But even he denied me of that!” 

Quasimodo’s vision was blurred by the stinging tears. His knees ached in pain and exhaustion. The young man limped toward the nearest wooden beam and latched his burly arms around the frame for support. Closing his eyes, the bellringer sobbed bitterly. His breaths were shaky and uneven. The bellringer tightened his grip around the beam in a desperate attempt to find solace in his sanctuary. 

Pinky and Brain could not bear to see their friend in pain. toward their friend’s side. They were crushed to learn of the emotional devastation Frollo’s cruel treatment had on Quasimodo, even though the young man did not deserve to endure anything of the kind. The mice hopped from the table and sprinted toward their crestfallen friend. When they reached close proximity to the bellringer, Pinky hugged his left knee while Brain gently patted his right knee. 

Quasimodo was stunned when he felt the mice comforting him. He scrubbed away the tears from his eyes and the excessive snot that dripped from his nose. “I-I’m sorry for how I acted.” Quasi sadly apologized. “I-I didn’t mean to yell at you guys.” 

“There is nothing to be sorry for, my friend,” Brain gently dismissed, gently placing his hand on his right knee. “You have every right to express your anger at Frollo for everything he did to you.” 

“We still love you, Quasi,” Pinky softly added, tightening his hug around the bellringer’s left knee with all of his might. 

Quasi’s eyes widened at the soft admission. “Pinky?” 

“Brain and I love you very much,” Pinky affirmed, tilting his head upward to gaze straight into his eyes. “We can be your family if you want.” 

Quasimodo stared at the mouse in stunned silence. Never in his life did he think that he would be part of a family. 

The word family was quite foreign to the bellringer. Over the years he associated family with something he could never attain. To be loved by the ones he loved. His upbringing in the bell tower was evidence that he was never part of a normal family. Though he loved the gargoyles, the stone saints, and the bells, they would never truly reciprocate the tangible affection he needed. Even Frollo insisted on being addressed as ‘master’, not ‘father’. 

Pinky and Brain, however, provided him with care and attention. They treated him with dignity and respect, even encouraging him to follow his dream of going out there. They loved him as much as he loved them. 

Quasi gave the mice a sad smile. The strange rodents had proven themselves to be reliable friends, choosing to remain by his side when he needed them most. The bellringer dropped his left hand, allowing the mice to hop on. 

“Of course, you can be my family,” Quasi assured the mice. “And I love you both too.” 

The bellringer gazed at the mice, basking in their comfort and love. His two friends, who have shown him nothing but love and respect, proudly claim him to be family. And Quasi was greatly content with this development. 

“I can’t thank you two enough for staying by my side,” Quasi said graciously, bowing his head. 

Pinky gave Quasi a gentle, motherly kiss on his forehead and embraced the left side of his face. Brain opted to give the young man’s thumb some reassuring strokes. “Well, we can’t thank you enough for being our friend!” Pinky replied. 

“Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with us, Quasi.” Brain mentioned with a wry smile. A cheerful “Narf!” bubbled from Pinky's lips. 

Quasi chuckled lightly at the megalomaniac’s comment. If things could stay this way forever, he would be elated. But his smile faded when an awful thought crossed his mind. 

“But what would happen when Frollo returns?” His voice strained with anxiety. 

Quasi thought about everything he had experienced in the past few days. The new friends that he made, his humble business, the nice strolls around the city. While venturing out there certainly had its highs and lows, the positives far outweighed the negatives in his eyes. He had learned more about the goings on in the world and grown to appreciate his independence. Quasi finally got a taste of freedom and the last thing he wanted was it to be taken away by the cruel man he once called master. 

“Then we’ll make sure that we’ll take over France before Frollo comes back,” a bold voice declared. 

Quasi looked down to see Brain grabbing Pinky’s hand and confidently staring back at him. 

“We already acquired most of the ingredients, and all we need left is a specialized bottle of champagne and goat hairs, and since you’ve endeared yourself to Esmeralda’s animal companion, the latter shouldn’t be an issue.” Brain explained, his stare hardened with determination. 

Pinky squeezed Brain’s hand, looking very concerned. “But how are we going to get the king to drink your special drink?”

“I’m glad you asked, Pinky,” Brain replied with a sly smile while patting his hand. “You and I will surreptitiously sneak into the Louvre in the dead of night. Once morning arrives, we will disguise ourselves as servants of the castle. I will tend to his meals while you, dear Pinky, will be the poison taster.”

“Egad, that’s my dream job!” Pinky exclaimed. 

“Yes,” Brain sardonically drawled. “Come dinner time, I will spike King Louis XI’s wine with our carefully crafted potion. We will hand deliver the chalice to his majesty, where he will fall into a hypnotic trance and become susceptible to my commands. There, I shall ascend to the French throne!” 

The megalomaniac then turned his attention back to the bellringer. “And once I’m crowned king, I will order the so-called Minister of Justice to release you from his care and then adopt you, making you the crown prince of France!” 

Quasi blinked. “You…you would do that?” 

“Of course, Quasi,” Brain boastfully assured. “Just think of it, you can finally live in comfort in a lavish and loving environment!” The mouse gestured dramatically with his arms, allowing Quasi to envision the possibilities. “You would be free to venture in and out of the castle as you please, and do all the things you ever desired!” 

“You can even invite Esmeralda, Pheobus, and Clopin over and dance in the grand ballroom!” Pinky swooned, clasping his hands together. 

Quasi grinned, fueled by such an exciting prospect of a life of freedom. “So I can do anything I want? I could venture outside the city, or e-even attend the Feast of Fools?” 

“Yes, my friend!” Brain cheered. “Not only may you attend the Festival of Fools, but any other festival or celebration too!.” The mouse grandly gestured with his arms. 

The bellringer looked at the mice, confident that they overcome this obstacle. He will do what he can to help Brain succeed. He would no longer have to worry about Frollo and he would become a free man. 

“Say, Brain,” Pinky happily approached his lover. “could we continue that story about Eurydice and Orpheus?” 

Brain smiled as he patted Pinky’s head. “Of course, my dear,”

“Oh dear, that one is fairly sad,” Quasi mentioned. 

“No, it’s not,” Pinky argued. “Orpheus was leading her right out of the underworld so they could live happily ever after.”

“Unfortunately, dear Pinky, Orpheus looked back and his dearest Eurydice was taken from him forever!” Brain concluded dramatically. 

Pinky gasped, clutching his cheeks with his hands. “No!” 

“Yes!” Brain declared, his face plastered with a mischievous grin. 

The mice and the bellringer had spent the next two hours swapping interesting stories, from Greek mythology to stories from the Bible. When Quasi recited the story of Noah’s Ark, Pinky made a sly remark on how he and Brain could easily sneak into the ark if they disguised themselves as a married couple. Brain merely crossed his arms and huffed in response.

Once the mice were settled in bed, Quasi climbed up to the rafters near his beloved bells. Gazing at the celestial bodies above, the bellringer felt a small wave of comfort. Growing up, whenever he felt lonely, confused, or sad, he would oftentimes consult with the stone saints and gargoyles. Other times he would confide in God. He knew several prayers like the back of his hand, but he found that simply talking to Him as if He was any other person sufficed. 

Quasi clasped his hands together and looked up at the tower windows.“Dear Lord, I know that I have received everything that I ever wanted in these past few days. Friends, the chance to go outside the cathedral.” His voice was soft and humble. “A-And it’s everything I could have hoped for and more. But after learning of my mother, Florika, and the truth behind Frollo, I-I can’t help but feel betrayed by the person who raised me.” 

“Forgive me, Father,” he apologized. “I am aware that I have already asked so much of You, but please give Florika a place in the Kingdom of Heaven. She had done so much for me in my infancy. Rescuing me from the jaws of death and risking her own life just to protect me, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Life is a precious gift, and I do not want to waste it so foolishly. So I am determined to make every day count and appreciate the things I do have.”  

Quasi glanced down at the slumbering mice. Once acquaintances, their bond evolved into a meaningful friendship, and now, he was glad to call them his family. 

“I love her, and I hope that she still loves me. So please, Lord, thank her for all that she did for me and grant her the comfort and joy of Your love. Amen.” 

He hopped down from the rafter and headed off to bed. Quasimodo looked over to the mice as he drifted off to sleep, content to be enveloped in their warm and loving glow. 

Frollo wearily rubbed his head. The carriage ride over to his younger brother’s estate on the outskirts of Limoges had been far from comfortable. The three day journey had been wrought with all sorts of annoyances. From encountering the drunken, licentious activities at the inns he stayed at to the obnoxious peasants that begged for some money. 

Three days prior, he had met with King Louis XI to inform him of the state of Paris. The meeting would have been a major success, had the ‘Universal Spider’ not brought up one terrible topic. 

December 3rd, 1482

In the Louvre Palace, Frollo stood in the great hall before King Louis XI. The King was dressed in a fine red robe and brown Tyrolean felt hat. The Judge approached the monarch with a rolled-up parchment, which the king silently accepted. 

“So, as you can see from my documents, I have cleaned the city of the plagues of sin and depravity.” The Minister of Justice informed his Majesty. “In this past year alone, I have made 930 arrests and 276 public executions. 104 of those arrests involved witchcraft, but rest assured, your Grace, I have made an example of those sirens by burning them at the stake.” He raised his hand in the air and tightened his fist.  

Louis XI’s eyes remained focused on the document, not catching a glimpse of his subject’s tyrannical rant. Ever since he appointed Claude Frollo as Minister of Justice immediately after his coronation in the summer of 1461, he was more concerned about someone who could overlook the capital while he was occupied with other such matters. Having someone as stern and swift as Frollo proved to be quite useful to him since he had been occupied with other matters, such as establishing the royal postal road, fighting the Burgundians, and dealing with his own bouts of illness.

“Excellent work, Minister Frollo,” The King complimented. “You continue to exert great authority over the city.” 

Frollo gave his Highness a forced smile. "I'm glad my work pleases you."

“But before you leave, there is one thing I must ask of you.” The monarch mentioned. 

“Anything, your Grace,” Frollo smiled politely. 

“Might I request a meeting with the bellringer of Notre Dame at some point soon?"

Frollo’s face fell. “What does this old fool want from my burden?!?” he thought angrily. 

The Judge took a deep breath, concealing his fury. “Your Majesty, might I inquire why you wish to visit the…” 

Monster. Abomination. Unholy demon. 

“Bellringer?”

“During my last visit to Notre Dame de Paris, the bells sounded magnificent.” King Louis XI complimented before coughing into his fist. “I never heard church bells play so gloriously in all of my rule. I tried to talk to the Archdeacon, but he only mentioned that you raised him, which I found to be odd since you never mentioned that you had any children and, quite frankly, I never assumed you to be the fatherly type." 

Frollo felt his face heat up. Nobody was to know of the cursed bellringer’s existence! But now the king of all people wanted to make idle chatter with him. He dreaded the thought of France’s absolute monarch conversing with Quasimodo, let alone being in the same room as him. But then again, Quasimodo’s ghastly appearance could easily scare off the already ill King, which would make for a humorous sight. 

“I’ll speak with my ward and arrange a meeting for you two,” Frollo answered. 

“Splendid!” The King proclaimed with another hard cough. “You are dismissed, Judge Frollo.” 

“Good day, your Grace,” Frollo bowed with a feigned smile on his face. Once he had his back turned, his expression morphed into bitter annoyance and disgust. 

The minister dreaded the thought of having to arrange a meeting between the King and the hunchback. He prayed that the monarch would simply forget about it and that they would never have to meet. 

He then thought of Quasimodo. He was certain that the monster would obey his word and complete his studies. For as long as he could remember, the lad would yearn to go outside the bell tower. Frollo could not allow that to happen. His reputation would be greatly tarnished if anyone was to know that the monster belonged to him. 

So Frollo was bent on keeping the creature’s mind occupied by giving him an education. He taught him how to read and write in Latin, and made reviews of the Bible a mandatory part of the curriculum. But as the years past, Frollo resorted to teaching the boy how to read and write in Greek and French and giving him different books for reading assignments. He even approved of the boy’s wood carving hobby as a creative outlet. It was all in an effort to keep Quasimodo busy and to keep his mind from wandering outside so he could remain in the bell tower. Frollo also knew that threatening him with swift and brutal punishment wagreatly keptim under his control. 

But if Quasimodo was to be useful to him soon, then Frollo had to prepare the boy to be a valuable asset at his disposal. 

The Judge shook his head. This trip was a rare opportunity to be away from Quasimodo! He should not even spare that misshapen beast a single thought. Desperate for a distraction, Frollo looked outside the window. The cluster of stars dimmed amongst the raven-black sky. The same color as her hair. 

Frollo shuddered. His run-in with the raven-haired street dancer back in October had brought great strife. The Judge initially watched her from a comfortable distance. He would allow his gaze to linger as she danced by the street corners. But the more he watched her dance, the more he craved her. The sweet scent of her hair. Those emerald eyes pierced through his very soul.

No! He needed to stay pious. As Minister of Justice, he needed to focus on his duty to cleanse Paris of sin and be a paragon of virtue for the feeble-minded masses to follow. But the thought of that girl plagued his mind. It made his body weak. He must not submit to the temptations of the flesh. He must extinguish this burning desire. 

And yet Frollo wanted nothing more than to have her for his own. 

The carriage screeched to a halt, throwing Frollo about in his seat. The Judge readjusted his position and stared out the window to find an old manor. He finally arrived at his brother’s domicile. 

The stagecoach door opened. “Good evening, old-timer,” A sly middle-aged voice greeted him.

Frollo gritted his teeth. No one beneath him was to address him other than ‘Judge’ or ‘Minister’. The Judge glared at the coachman. “How dare you speak to me this way!” He seethed. 

“Hey now, take it easy old sport!” The man reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a small piece of paper. “Allow me to introduce myself.”

Frollo snatched the paper from the man’s hand and scanned its contents. 

Monsieur Itch, Proprietor of Wayward Souls

“Bah! I’ve never heard of such a career,” Frollo sneered, tossing the paper back at Mr. Itch. “What makes you think you are worthy of my time and attention?” 

“Well for starters I know all that there is about you,” Mr. Itch coyly declared, waggling his eyebrows. “Such as your little alchemy hobby that you dabbled in for about twenty years.” 

Frollo’s face scrunched up. It was true. When he was raising his brother Jehan, he did seek out information regarding the philosopher’s stone. Partially as a distraction from his libertine brother’s antics, but also out of genuine intrigue to seek out immortality. But when he was appointed Minister of Justice, he had to cast aside his intrigue in alchemy. Such an interest would damage his reputation. 

“Lies!” Frollo bellowed, giving the mysterious man an icy stare. 

Mr. Itch chuckled, shaking his head. “Or that time you killed an innocent gypsy in front of a church, almost tried to drown her hunchback child but now you keep him imprisoned in the bell tower.” Mr. Itch mentioned while eyeing his fingernails. “Since we’re on the subject, he’s now partnered up with two small lab mice and they run a cute little figurine stall in the city square.” 

Frollo’s frown deepened. Only the Archdeacon and the other churchmen know about his sin. Although Frollo would not be surprised if the Archdeacon did tell that story to others. But Frollo ignored Mr. Itch’s last sentence. He already has Quasimodo under his thumb. The monster was far too obsequious to dare disobey him. 

“But let’s cut to the chase,” Mr. Itch waved off. “You’ve been having a lot of girl troubles lately after that run-in with the raven-haired dancer in the purple skirt. A real beauty she is, and she’s been on your mind for the past couple months. Not to the point where you’re having trouble keeping it in your pants or singing about it in front of the fireplace, but you’re heading down that slippery slope.” 

Frollo’s face fell. This sleazy-looking imbecile had spouted his deepest, darkest secret. Heaven help him if anyone else was to catch wind of his burning desire. 

“What do you want?” Frollo barked, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. 

“I want to help you out!” Mr. Itch answered. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved another document. With a snap of his fingers, a jar of ink and quill appeared out of thin air, startling the judge. 

“What sorcery is this?” Frollo muttered under his breath. 

“So here’s my proposition: I can give you the girl to have, and she’ll be yours and yours alone.” He flashed an enticing grin. “All I need in exchange is your soul!” 

The minister stiffened at the proposition. For weeks he had waged war against himself over the alluring spell cast by that siren. This was his opportunity to capture that witch and keep her for good. He can finally quench the flames of his carnal desires. The Judge grabbed the quill, dipping it into the ink. He read the fine print of the contract.

I, Judge Claude Frollo, Minister of Justice and Foster Father of Quasimodo, hereby agree to forfeit my soul over to Monsieur Itch, Proprietor of Wayward Souls, Inventor of Rhythmic Gymnastics, and Master of Hell, in exchange for the right to have ownership over nomadic Romani street dancer, La Esmeralda, for the rest of my natural life. Additionally, I, Judge Claude Frollo, comprehend that once this contract is signed, his soul is permanently condemned to the fiery pit. This contract is non-voidable. 

Customer's Signature:

Proprietor's Signature: Monsieur Itch

Frollo dropped the quill. He had spent the last twenty years trying to absolve himself of the sin he committed in front of Notre Dame by raising the hunchback, there was no way he was about to throw away his penance. He peered into Mr. Itch’s eyes, which flickered like the flames of damnation. It held the same twisted glee as the stone demon that stared into his soul, as the rest of Notre Dame's eyes had, all those years ago. 

“So what do you say?” Mr. Itch slyly asked, waving his contract in the Judge’s face.

Frollo slapped the parchment down. “Get away from me, you devilish fiend!” Frollo shouted. He backed away from the finely-dressed man, stumbling in his steps. “I shall not bow down to your earthly temptations!” The old man sprinted away from the carriage, at full speed towards his brother’s chateau as if his life depended on it. 

Mr. Itch shook his head as his contract, ink, and quill disappeared with a poof. Although he was gravely disappointed that he could not help but be morbidly fascinated by Frollo’s dilemma. “That guy needs to do something about his sexual repression,” he muttered to himself. 

The judge bolted over to the manor. He kept his right hand secured over his elegant tricorn hat as he ran. The last thing he wanted was to lose the item that solidified his authority over Paris. The moment he arrived at the entrance, Frollo feverishly banged on the door. 

“Open up, Jehan!” Frollo frantically yelled. “I know you are in there!” He banged on the door until his fist turned red. His breathing quickened. That devil would surely drag him away at any second.

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder only to discover that Mr. Itch was nowhere in sight. 

The front door opened to reveal a pepper-grey-haired man donned in a dark blue nightgown. “Claude?” The middle-aged man questioned, his eyes bleared with sleepiness. “Where in the blazes have you been? My associates and I have waited all day for you to show up.” 

Frollo gave a tired sigh. He was far too tired to give his brother a detailed explanation. All he wanted was to rest. “It’s a long story, Jehan. I’ll tell you in the morning.” 

Chapter Text

A cacophony of voices plagued Brain’s ears. 

He opened his eyes only to discover a forest of legs surrounding him. The mouse craned his neck and caught a glimpse of the ominous blood-red sky above him. 

Brain felt lost. He was caught in a jungle of spectators and had not the slightest idea where he was or why so many people congregated together at this time of night. His curiosity got the better of him and Brain managed to grab a hold of a bystander’s cape and stealthily made his ascent. Once he reached the shoulders of an unsuspecting man, he found a sea of citizens in Place du Parvis, all swarmed around a wooden platform housing two wooden stakes. Two human figures were tied to the stakes while a man dressed in black judicial robes stood in the center of the stage, wielding a torch. The Parisians and Notre Dame herself were about to witness a public execution.

“The unholy demons have plagued this city with their filth!” A familiar baritone declared, reading aloud from his scroll. Claude Frollo, no doubt acting as judge, jury, and executioner continued to address his self-righteous agenda to the crowd. 

Brain squinted his eyes to get a better view of the victims and was gobsmacked by a terrible discovery. On the left stake, Quasimodo and Pinky were tied together, with the mouse close to the bellringer’s shoulder, while Esmeralda was bound to the right stake. All three were dressed in white, tattered clothes, the color reflecting their innocence. Two masked executioners dutifully threw in hay and kindling wood beneath the victims’ feet. 

“They gypsy Esmeralda has been guilty of spreading witchcraft, aided by her equally abominable minions Quasimodo and…” the Judge squinted his eyes, looking befuddled at the next name. “...Pinky.” His face shifted back to a more serious expression. “For their heinous crimes, these three deplorable fiends have been sentenced to death!” 

Brain’s eyes widened. He heard some people hurling their cries of protest at Frollo. Others hollered for the fire to commence. 

“No,” Brain shakily uttered in disbelief. His hand clutched against his chest. 

As Frollo took the flaming torch from one of the executioners, Brain turned his attention over to his friends. 

Pinky sadly looked upon his human companions, his ears drooping against his head. “Poit. When Frollo mentioned that he was throwing a bonfire in the city square, I assumed that there were going to be ‘smores and campfire songs involved.”

“Silence, you treacherous witch!” Frollo barked, waving the torch at the frightened mouse. He then moved over to Esmeralda. “You should have accepted my offer when you had the chance,” he seethed. 

The minister of justice turned his attention back to the large crowd. “Then it is my sacred duty to purge the city of these unholy demons and send them back to Hell where they belong!” 

Without another word, Frollo lowered the torch and lit Quasi and Pinky’s post first. Pinky, Quasimodo, and Esmeralda could only gape as the fire began to spread. The judge smirked as he began to light the second stake on fire. 

Quasi struggled to break the ropes that bound him. Esmeralda gasped in terror at the rising flames that surrounded her feet. Pinky shrieked out a desperate cry for help. Frollo grinned as he watched them suffer. 

Brain’s eyes widened in terror. He could not allow his closest friends to be torched by the monstrous minister of justice. 

The mouse hopped from the man’s shoulder and landed on the ground with a thud. Picking himself back up, Brain sprinted as fast as his tiny legs permitted toward the scaffold, dodging the feet of the idle onlookers. The agonized screams from the scaffold echoed in his ears. 

The megalomaniac pushed himself even further. His friends needed him. If he was to fail them, he would never forgive himself. 

Brain managed to rush past the guards undetected and climbed up the leg of the scaffold. Beads of sweat dropped from his forehead, but the mouse persisted. The screams of his friends still rang in his ears. Pinky’s cry for help was the loudest. The crowd let out a surprised roar, followed by the sound of arrows soaring through the air. Gritting his teeth, the mouse continued his climb. 

Once he reached the summit of the executioner’s platform, Brain gaped at the most horrific sight: Esmeralda was limp as she was consumed by the pyre. Quasimodo, who broke free from his bounds, was slumped on the floor with arrows pierced through his back. Frollo dangled Pinky’s lifeless body above the left pyre and threw the mouse into the flames.

Tears pricked Brain’s eyes. His loved ones had been mercilessly executed by that zealous madman. 

“NOOOOO!!!” 

Pinky felt a small foot kicking his shin. The mouse slowly opened his eyes only to find Brain struggling in his sleep. The megalomaniac looked as though he was running, desperately trying to reach something. 

Or someone.   

Pinky sadly frowned. His best friend shouldn’t have to feel distressed when he was in dreamland. Brain deserved to have sweet dreams, filled with cheese and rainbows and fuzzy ponies. It scared Pinky that he couldn’t fight off whatever was troubling Brain. The cockney mouse gently cradled his lover close in his arms, giving him a tender kiss on his forehead. 

“You don’t have to run, Brain,” Pinky sweetly whispered, inhaling the fur on the top of his head. “I’m here.”

Brin’s eyes fluttered open. His rose-pink orbs gazed up at the taller mouse, almost in disbelief. He carefully reached his hand over to cup Pinky’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. 

 “Pinky is still here,” the megalomaniac thought as he gazed into Pinky’s soft cerulean eyes. “Your world is safe.”

Brain relaxed immediately. “Oh, Pinky, thank goodness you’re alright.” 

Pinky pulled Brain into a soft hug, and Brain silently reciprocated by nuzzling his head into Pinky’s chest. “Did you have a bad dream?” 

“Yes, I did,” Brain quietly admitted. “I don’t want to give any vivid descriptions, but I will say that Frollo was involved.” 

Pinky held Brain tighter. The taller mouse quivered at the thought of Frollo hurting his loved ones. He was already frightened of the judge from the moment he stepped into the bell tower and treated Quasi so terribly. 

“Brain, are you sure we can pull off your plan before Frollo comes back?” Pinky asked, his voice strained with worry. 

Silence filled the air. Brain then gently released himself from Pinky’s embrace.  

“Of course, we will,” Brain confidently declared. Reaching under his pillow, he pulled out a calendar for December. “Frollo left Paris on Monday the Third, and he won’t be due back until Monday the Seventeenth,” he drifted his finger over to the return date. “Today is Thursday the Seventh, therefore we have an ample amount of time to procure the rest of the ingredients for my potion and set my plan into motion!”

“Ooh, nice rhyme, Brain!” Pinky complimented. 

Brain couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Pinky,” he said before bestowing a soft kiss on Pinky’s cheek. “Now the only ingredients left are the goat hairs and the bottle of champagne. We should not have any trouble obtaining these items since we have enough money and we are fairly acquainted with Esmeralda’s goat. 

The megalomaniac then got up on his feet and brushed the dust from his nightgown. “Now come, my dear,” he exclaimed, pointing his finger into the air. “There is much to do today so we best begin our morning routine.” 

Pinky sat upright and stretched out his arms. But once Brain walked out of view, Pinky’s smile faded. Anxiously threading his fingers around the blanket, he could not help but feel worried for Quasi and Brain’s safety in case that mean, no-good, terrible Frollo returned. He didn’t want Quasi to be hurt again. He didn’t want Brain to be hurt as well. 

But his troubling thoughts were shattered by the delightful sound of Brain and Quasimodo making small talk on the other side of the loft. 

At that moment, Pinky realized that he needed to live in the moment. He could not allow his loved ones to see how sad he was. So Pinky took a deep breath, picked himself up, brushed away the icky bad feelings that lingered, and put on a cheerful smile anyhow. He needed to gather enough positivity for their sake and his own.

“Righty-o, Brain!” He chirped, smiling happily as he made his way over to greet his friends. 

Quasi adjusted nicely to his new daily routine. He strolled through the city street, observing the other citizens go about their lives. As each day passed, he noticed a significant shift in mood regarding how the masses perceived him. Most people no longer gawked or shrieked at his presence. While many minded their own business, some folks began to treat him with some modicum of respect. The children that crowded around his stall warmed up to him almost immediately, and some of their caretakers spoke kindly to him as they made their business transactions. 

He started to feel more like a regular citizen of the city. 

As Quasimodo and the mice were setting up the stall, he noticed a weaver and his wife carrying a carpet outside to brush off the dirt. They looked at him and waved. “Good morning, bellringer!” 

Quasi was awestruck at their politeness. Nonetheless, he decided to return the favor. “Good morning!” Quasimodo greeted back with a wave before tending to his post. He, Pinky, and Brain organized the display table with several figurines. As they placed each figure with great care, Brain noticed Pinky gazing off into the distance. 

“Earth to Pinky,” Brain sarcastically called to the taller mouse while tapping his shoulder. 

“Zort!” Pinky exclaimed. He turned over to find Brain and grinned. “Oh, there you are, Brain!” 

“Goofing off again, my friend?” Brain drawled with his brow raised. 

“A little,” Pinky admitted. “I was just admiring all of the pretty dresses.” The cockney mouse felt more comfortable confiding to Brain about his desires. “And I was thinking about having a dress or two of my own.” 

Brain gave Pinky a wry smile. “Tell you what, Pinky, when we return to the bell tower, I’ll help you find any fabrics to make your dress.” 

Pinky clasped his hands together, his eyes lighting with excitement. “Oh, how wonderful! What color dress should I have?” 

Brain was at a loss for words. He nervously rubbed the back of his head as he pondered. “Well, I, um…you would look quite ravishing in green.” The megalomaniac smiled shyly at Pinky. 

“I believe I have an old shirt you can make a dress out of,” Quasi offered the mice. 

Pinky pulled Brain into a hug, twirling him around. “Oh, this is going to be great! Narf!” After placing the smaller mouse back on the table, Pinky launched onto Quasimodo’s right arm and hugged him with all his might. “Oh thank you, Quasi!” 

Once Brain got his bearings, he looked over to find Quasi gently patting Pinky. He couldn’t help but smile at their bond. 

Quasimodo lifted his eyes back to the townspeople going about their day. Among the familiar faces, he noticed Marie and her mother walking together. It did not take long for the little girl to spot the bellringer seated by the art stall. Marie’s face lit up immediately as she waved at Quasimodo. She then looked up at her mother and nodded at her daughter before she could even ask if she could visit her friend. Marie grinned and tugged her mother as she ran over to his stall. 

“Good morning, Quasimodo!” Marie greeted. 

Quasimodo smiled softly at her. “Good morning, Marie.” He looked over to her mother and nodded. “Good morning, Madame.” 

The mother gently smiled at him, offering her hand. “My name is Adelaide Fabre.” 

The bellringer felt his shoulders relax. He remembered how apprehensive she was the first time she met him. It was comforting to learn that she had become accustomed to him. He gingerly shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Adelaide.” 

Pinky was eagerly waving at them, but Brain tugged at his free arm. He pulled Pinky by the collar of his shirt and whispered in his ear. “I believe it would be best if Quasi had at least one civil conversation without any of your inane insights.” 

Pinky glanced at Quasi and back at Brain. “Oh. Alrighty then!” The cockney mouse followed his diminutive lover as they continued to place the figurines on display. 

“Do you really ring the bells all by yourself?” Marie inquired.

“I have been for the last seven years,” Quasi answered candidly. “I used to have a mentor when I was younger, but he passed on when I was thirteen, and I took on the role of bellringer ever since.” 

Marie nodded along, taking in the information. Adelaide smiled at her daughter and back at Quasimodo. “Marie is enchanted by the bells,” She mentioned. “She’s normally shy around other people, but whenever she hears the bells ring, she’s quick to talk about you.” 

Quasi blushed at the compliment. “I’m glad that you enjoy the bells,”

“Come on, Marie,” Adelaide told her daughter. “We have many errands to complete.” 

Marie exhaled in defeat as she took her mother’s hand. 

“Thanks for stopping by,” Quasi said sweetly. 

“Good day, Monsieur,” Adelaide said. 

“Good day, Quasimodo!” Marie exclaimed. 

Quasimodo smiled at the family as he watched them head down the street.

“Aww,” Pinky gushed. 

“And it seems that you’re developing quite the reputation, my friend,” Brain slyly added. 

Quasimodo glanced back at the surrounding townspeople. They observed him and the mice, their gazes softened significantly. Quasi relaxed. He took comfort in knowing that the community was beginning to accept him. 

The three friends figured that the Big Ears and Noodle Noggins toys were popular, but they never expected to be so busy. Soon enough, the morning rush had begun as loyal patrons and curious onlookers swarmed the stall. Even as Quasi was conducting business, he noticed the small groups of children playing with the mice figurines. It warmed his heart to learn that his creations were cherished. 

Of the people milling about on the street, a middle-aged noble who donned a fancy blue tunic and black hose. He brought along his two young daughters, the eldest wore a blue dress while the youngest wore a bright red dress, both of whom noticed the popular stall. The father was a lawyer from Limoges who took his children and his serving staff to visit Paris, and thus were unfamiliar with its legendary bellringer. 

From afar, the nobleman stared at Quasimodo with an appalled reaction etched on his face. 

“What a hideous peasant,” the man bluntly noted.

“Papa, can we buy a toy from that stall?” The elder noble girl asked, tugging on his sleeve. 

“Please?” The younger daughter added. 

The man was miffed by the suggestion. “Bernadette, Beatrice, you two have plenty of toys at home.”

“Yes, but we want a toy from Paris!” Bernadette argued. 

“And you promised to buy us souvenirs!” Beatrice reminded. 

“But there is no time to dilly-dally,” The father protested. “We have to head back to the inn and prepare for our long journey home to Limoges.” 

“But Papa-”

“And that’s final.” He put his foot down. 

The girls looked at each other and furrowed their brows. Neither one of them was backing down without a fight. “Then I’ll never speak to you again!” Bernadette pouted as she crossed her arms and turned her back on him.

“Bernadette, you can’t be serious!” The irascible father exclaimed. He attempted to place his hand on her shoulder, but she rejected the gesture by stepping to the side. The man tried to get Beatrice’s attention, but she gave him a gruff “hmmph”. 

The tired father let out an exasperated groan. “Fine, you may each get one small souvenir,” 

“Hooray!” The girls cheered before tackling their father in a hug. His tough exterior melted away almost instantly. 

At the stand, Quasimodo observed two young girls sprinting away from their father toward his direction. Upon inspecting their faces, he could tell that they must have lived outside of Paris. 

“Good morning,” Quasi gently greeted. 

“Bonjour!” Bernadette and Beatrice chorused. 

As their father reached into his money purse, Beatrice looked up curiously at Quasimodo. “Why do you look like that?” she asked. 

“Beatrice!” Her father scolded her. 

Quasi looked at the family and pondered. He, too, once asked this question. Frollo merely told him that he was born from sin and his looks reflected the actions of his mother. When he was ten, he was helping out the Archdeacon with errands in the nave when he repeated what Frollo told him. But the Archdeacon informed the young bellringer that he was born that way and that God made him with a purpose. He also heard the Archdeacon mention that Frollo should give a closer reading of Matthew 7: 2-5. 

Though Quasimodo did not know what purpose he was meant to fulfill, he now had a better understanding of how he should live his life. Though he was a loyal servant of God, the bellringer was not meant to be sequestered in the cathedral.

“I was just born with these features,” Quasimodo answered matter-of-factly. 

The father stood dumbfounded. The vendor simply smiled back, showing no trace of annoyance or malice. The nobleman was both grateful and humbled. Perhaps he judged the bellringer too harshly. 

“Thank you kindly,” he admitted, “and I apologize for my daughter. She’s quite the handful.” 

“That’s alright,” Quasimodo lightly dismissed. “I’m happy to answer any questions that they might have.” 

“What’s your favorite color?” Beatrice asked. 

Quasi smiled. “Green. And what’s yours?” 

“I love red!” Beatrice answered. 

“Blue is my favorite color!” Bernadette added eagerly.

“Girls, I suggest you choose what toy you want,” Their father reminded. “We need to head out of the city soon.” 

Bernadette and Beatrice shrieked in panic. They looked at the line of figures and had their eyes set on the Big Ears and Noodle Noggin toys. 

“Beatrice, we should buy these mice!” Bernadette declared. 

“Huzzah!” Beatrice cheered. 

“Thank heavens,” their Father exhaled. “How much for the toys?” 

“Ten denier in total, sir,” Quasi replied. The nobleman placed a handful of coins on the table. Quasi looked to find that the man paid more than the asking price. “Sir, I believe this is yours,” Quasi grabbed the two sou into his hands. 

“That’s for dealing with my little mischief-makers,” the father joked, lightly elbowing Bernadette. 

“Thank you, good man, and good day to you!” 

“Thank you!” Bernadette and Beatrice sang as they were led away by their father. 

Quasimodo happily waved at the family. “You’re welcome, and have a good day!”

The bellringer smiled as he overheard the girls thanking their father for the gifts. He adjusted his seat and basked in the success of not only his business transaction but conversation with the general public. 

After closing up shop for the day, the friends ventured to the shops for their remaining ingredients. As they searched for the necessary herbs (parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme), Quasi politely conversed with the sellers, asking them what he needed and giving them the right amount of money in return.

The final stop on their errands was the winery. There, the gang hoped to purchase the specific brand-named champagne that is vital for the potion. 

Quasi walked into the shop, carrying the mice in his hands. “You have done a splendid job advocating for yourself and assisting us on our quest for ingredients.” Brain complimented the bellringer. “But for now, let me do the talking.” 

“Okay,” Quasi whispered with a nod. Brain flashed a confident grin. 

The odd trio approached the counter, where a finely dressed plump man sporting a greying beard stood. 

“Good day monsieur,” Brain greeted the gentleman. 

However, the wine vendor shifted his attention away from the mouse. “You’re Notre Dame’s legendary bellringer, aren’t you?” 

Quasi blinked. “I-I am, sir,” he answered hesitantly. “My name’s Quasimodo.” 

The vendor smiled and approached Quasimodo. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, monsieur,” he said, shaking Quasi’s hand. “I am Monsieur DuBois, but you may call me Orson.”

Once Orson released his grip, he brought his hands together. “Now, brass tacks: Does Notre Dame need some additional service to provide communal wine?” Orson asked curiously.

“No,” Quasi answered. When he saw the vendor’s smile vanish, the bellringer was quick to rebound with an explanation. “But my friends need a specific bottle that you might have in your inventory.” 

Brain hopped off of Quasi’s hand and landed on the counter. “Indeed, for we are here to purchase your finest bottle of Paul Masson champagne, please.” 

“And we even brought our own money!” Pinky exclaimed. Quasi fished his bloated moneybag from his basket to show to Orson, who immediately became elated. 

“Well of course. I normally keep our champagne in the back, I’ll go retrieve the bottle for you at once!” Orson said before running off to the back of the store. When the vendor returned, he had a concerned look on his face. “My apologies gentlemen, but we’re currently out of stock.” He said. “However, they should be restocked soon and our next shipment of champagne should arrive in about three to five days, give or take.” 

“Three to five days,” Brain repeated. The mouse glanced over to Pinky and Quasi. Pinky looked slightly concerned, but Quasimodo was not bothered by this obstacle. 

“That should be plenty of time,” Quasi reassured. “We can wait until then.” 

Brain relaxed his shoulders. The fates have been extraordinarily kind to him and his friends these past few days. If he played his cards right, he would become king of France before the end of the week. 

“Very well then, we shall come back in three days, and, hopefully, your shelves will be stocked with our champagne of choice,” Brain declared with a confident nod. 

Orson nodded. “But while you three gentlemen are here, might I interest you in some of the other fine wines in our collection?” 

“Do you have sangrias?” Pinky asked. Brain rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s inane inquiry. 

Quasi looked at the mice and back at Orson. “Which red wines would you recommend?” 

After ten minutes of pursuing through the shop, the trio exited the winery in high spirits and with a bottle of Merlot in hand. Despite the minor setback in Brain’s plans, everything seemed to go smoothly. 

Then a loud explosion from the bakery startled everyone in the street. 

Outside the bakery, three familiar children were tossed out the front door by a bald, portly man donning a blue shirt, red trousers, and a white apron. Quasi and the mice joined the small crowd of onlookers as they noticed the Warners groaning among themselves from hitting the ground when the baker stomped by the doorway, angrily waving his fist at the children. 

“I don’t want to see you three troublemakers near my boulangerie , again!” He roared before slamming the door on them. 

After the baker returned to his territory, the small crowd talked amongst themselves as they dispersed. Quasi and the mice listened to the disdained murmurs of the bystanders. 

“Of course, it’s those pesky Warners,” 

“Those brats are always causing trouble.” 

“They should be locked away in a tower!” 

Brain curled his hand into a tight fist, suppressing his urge to chastise the townsfolk. Quasi shook his head, for he knew what it felt like to be frowned upon by others. He could vividly remember the gawks and shrieks from both the altercation inside the cathedral nave and his first day out into the city. Quasimodo glanced over at Pinky, who had his ears drooped down in empathy. It seemed that the three siblings were outcasts too.

Once the last of the onlookers left the scene, Quasi gingerly approached the children. Pinky took Brain by the hand and led him across their friend’s arm and shoulder until they reached the top of his red hair. Yakko got up and lifted Dot back on her feet. Wakko looked over to his right to see the bellringer offering his hand to him. The middle child’s frown transformed into an eager grin upon seeing the familiar face and happily accepted the help. 

“Are you three okay?” Quasi asked as he guided Wakko upwards, who thanked him by fervently shaking his hand.

“No, we’re Yakko, Wakko, and Dot,” Yakko jested as he brushed the soot off of his tunic. “Although, if you spell Yakko backward, you’d get okay!” The elder sibling grinned and gave an ‘okay’ hand gesture.

“So you’re not hurt then?” Quasi asked concernedly. 

“No, we’re fine. But we were kicked out of the bakery on the first day of our apprenticeship!” Dot explained. 

“We only wanted to make some Crepe Suzettes!” Wakko added. Still holding Quasi’s hand, he swung their arms back and forth. 

Pinky clasped his hands together. “Egad! That reminds me of one of your plans to take over the world, Brain!” The taller mouse turned his head over to his megalomaniacal lover. “Do you remember that one, darling?”

“How could I forget?” Brain groaned, pinching his forehead in exasperation. 

It was a plan he wanted to forget. Some time ago, he wanted to make a giant exploding Crepe Suzette for King Louis XI in honor of his return from Burgundy. He and Pinky tried to share the recipe at a local bakery, but their recipe was met with great disdain when the bakers realized the explosive results of the dish. 

“Let me guess, you added nutmeg to the recipe and it caused a huge explosion?” Brain sarcastically asked. 

“That’s right!” Wakko chirped, raising his hands in the air. “You can’t go wrong with nutmeg!”

“Troz! Nutmeg is the best!” Pinky happily agreed. 

“Yeah, except our boss wasn’t a fan of our culinary prowess,” Yakko remarked, steering the conversation back to its initial dour mood. “So now we’re out of a job and once we get home, Scratchy and Hello Nurse are gonna give us an earful!” 

“Isn’t there anyone else willing to accept apprentices?” Quasi inquired. 

“Not that I know of, and this is the third job we lost this month!” Yakko said. 

“We’ve tried working for the cheese monger and the blacksmith, but that didn’t end well either,” Wakko mentioned. 

“Wakko kept eating all the cheese and we dropped an anvil on the blacksmith’s foot because he canceled our lunch break,” Yakko added.

“Not to mention their wives are some of the biggest gossipers in the city, so that’ll scare off any potential bosses.” Dot ranted as she sat down on the street with her arms crossed. “So does anyone have any bright ideas?”

Brain thought for a moment. “Have you children ever considered becoming career clowns?” He asked in a partially sarcastic tone.

Yakko waltzed over to Quasi’s right shoulder, where the mice were perched. “We’d love to, really,” he said giving Brain a noggie with his index finger. “But Frollo got the job already, considering he’s a political joke, albeit not a very good one.” He winked and gave Quasi a playful jab at his arm. 

“Do you think there are any openings for court jester?” Dot piped up as she lifted herself off the ground. “We can entertain King Louis with our dragon-themed stand-up routine!” 

“Yeah, and sing our song about the Magna Carta!” Wakko eagerly added. 

Quasi pondered as the siblings spitballed their suggestions. As the sole bellringer of Notre Dame, he could benefit from having some helping hands. Since the Warners needed an apprenticeship, perhaps they could benefit from being his students. 

“I think I can help you three out,” Quasi said. 

The siblings fell silent, turning their heads over to the bellringer. “How?” Wakko asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“I need some assistance ringing the bells of Notre Dame, a-and since you three need a job, I can certainly make you my apprentices.” He explained as he gestured with his hands. 

The Warners smiled at the proposition. 

“Egad, Quasi, brilliant!” Pinky cheered but then his smile ran away the moment he realized a fatal flaw in the plan. “But no wait, no. What if Frollo comes back?” 

“Frollo still has ten days left of his trip, and even then Brain would already have his plan set in motion,” Quasi reasoned. 

Brain crossed his arms. “Pinky, have you no faith in my schemes?” 

Pinky guiltily fiddled with his hands. “I-I do, Brain. Poit! But what would happen if Frollo came back earlier?” 

Brain sighed. He regretted how harsh his words came out. In an attempt to remedy the situation, Brain gently grabbed Pinky’s hands, even caressing them with his thumb. Pinky gave a small smile at the sweet gesture. 

“Then he just needs to know that I won’t be ringing the bells forever,” Quasi added, feeling more confident in his decision. “Someone is going to take my place eventually, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t be the one to train my successors.” 

He looked at the Warners, who stared back at him with eager eyes. “So does this mean that you’ll be our master?” Dot asked excitedly.

Quasi winced at the word. The last thing he wanted was to be addressed with the moniker that was associated with his abuser. “I-I would greatly prefer the term teacher. O-Or you could just call me Quasimodo or Quasi. Any one of those is fine.” 

“Sounds good, teach!” Dot affirmed with a confident nod. 

“Faboo!” Wakko cheered. The lad took off his hat to reveal two red apples. He plucked the top one before putting his cap back on. Wakko wiped the apple on his left sleeve and offered it to the bellringer. “Thank you for taking us in, teacher!” 

Quasi smiled at the middle child as he graciously accepted the fruit. “I’m more than happy to help.” 

“So when’s our first lesson, Quasi?” Yakko asked. 

Quasi thought for a second. He glanced up at the cathedral towers and back at the siblings. “How about I show you the bell tower first.” 

From the moment the group entered the cathedral, the Warners curiously gazed at their surroundings. When they entered the nave, Pinky gladly pointed out the pretty lights from the stained glass window. Even though the Warners visited the cathedral every Sunday, they were amazed by Notre Dame’s beauty. As they climbed up the staircase, the siblings began to ask the bellringer several questions at a time. 

“Which bell is the biggest?” Dot inquired. 

“Are any of the bells decorated with shiny jewels on the inside?” Wakko questioned. 

“Can we make the bells play ‘Jingle Bells’?” Yakko asked. 

Fortunately for the kids, Quasimodo had the patience of a saint and found their enthusiasm endearing. Like any good mentor, the bellringer gave them clear and concise answers: 

“Big Marie, who weighs about 11,258 kilograms.” 

“Good gracious, no! Not only would the jewels break instantly because of the clapper, but they would interfere with the bell’s ability to produce music.”

 “Of course we can!”

But after climbing the ladders, the chatty siblings were rendered silent by the beauty of the bell tower loft. Their eyes sparkled as they gazed at the bellringer’s abode. The various broken statues, the soft tapestries adorning the wooden rafters, and the colorful glass mobile that drank in the sunlight. But the moment they set their sights on Quasi’s tabletop city, the trio bounced in excitement towards the table. 

Quasi and the mice exchanged satisfied looks as the children eagerly examined the loft. The bellringer softly smiled at the siblings’ excitement, glad that they were as enchanted by his abode as the mice were. He gently placed the mice onto the dining room table before walking over to the Warners. 

“So this is where you live?” Wakko asked curiously, gesturing his arms at the vastness of the tower.

“Yes, it is.” Quasi gently answered. 

“I gotta say, I love what you’ve done to the place,” Yakko complimented. He waltzed up to the statues of Victor, Hugo, and Lavern. “The statues really give this place a lot of personality!” 

Wakko went up to the statue of Saint Sebastian and happily shook its hand. 

Dot’s eyes lit up in excitement as she inspected the figurines and buildings. “Oh, and how long have you been making your wooden figures?” 

“I started making figures when I was about six or seven,” Quasi casually replied. 

Yakko and Wakko joined their sister and marveled at the miniatures. Wakko grabbed one of the horses from the square and rammed it through a group of innocent villagers. 

Yakko plucked a figure of Monsieur Plotz, smiling mischievously. “Hey Dot, I found your future husband.”

“Eww, disgusting!” Dot sneered before laughing alongside her older brother. 

Brain latched onto Pinky’s hand before he hopped off of the table, landing on the wooden floor without issue. “Pinky and I will be out on the balcony to discuss some important matters.” 

The megalomaniac gently pulled Pinky, leading him by the hand over toward the balcony entrance. As they walked, Pinky used his free hand to scratch his head. “So what are we going to talk about Brain?” 

Once they were outside, Brain stopped in his tracks. “That was all a ruse,” he admitted in a hushed whisper. Brain gently pulled Pinky closer and whispered in his ear. “I want to spend a little alone time with you while Quasi is teaching his energetic apprentices.” 

Pinky giggled, his cheeks turning scarlet from feeling Brain’s breath brushing against his ear. The cockney mouse giddily clapped his hands.“Ooh, that sounds romantic, Brain! Narf!” 

The mice heard Quasimodo instructing the Warners as they left for the balcony. 

“Now, if you three are serious about becoming bellringers, then you need to be familiar with the bells. So let me introduce you to them!” 

The Warners grinned as they happily trailed behind their tutor. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus approached Notre Dame’s grand entrance with Djali trotting alongside them. The Captain, who had completed his shift, donned his civilian attire, which consisted of a light blue tunic, brown hose, and matching boots. Esmeralda carried a small basket filled with dinner she intended to share with Quasimodo, Phoebus, and the mice before guiding them over to the Court of Miracles. But Phoebus had the grand idea of venturing up the bell tower to give Quasi a playful surprise when he least expected it. 

Esmeralda craned her neck upward to gaze at the cathedral. She looked to the bell towers and pondered about their bellringer. 

Quasimodo was a surprising man. Quasi possessed a gentleness and kindness that endeared her to him. He had a welcoming aura that made her feel comfortable. He was strong enough to ring the massive church bells and lift a grown man with ease, yet those same hands were capable of crafting finely detailed figurines. She initially found herself drawn to Quasimodo due to his status as an outcast. Though he was shy upon their first meeting, his confidence and enthusiasm blossomed with each passing day. But as she got to know him more and more, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was beginning to fall a little in love with him. 

Esmeralda was conflicted by this realization. She loved Quasimodo for his gentle spirit and kindhearted personality. How could anyone not love him? 

And yet, she loved Phoebus dearly. He had been the first man who treated her with respect and felt like an equal. She loved his witticisms, his casual nature, and his kindness. It was a serendipitous miracle when she reunited with him after years of separation, and the last thing she wanted was to drive him away.

But she remembered on the first day of their reunion when she confided to Phoebus about kissing Quasi’s cheek. She was surprised at how understanding he was and he seemed to not hold any hard feelings for it. 

But an innocent kiss was one thing. But admitting she was developing feelings for said man was a different beast entirely. 

Could he accept that she loved two men equally? Or would he be offended by this development and cast her off to the side?

She glanced over at Phoebus, who also seemed to be ruminating about something. Or someone. 

They entered the church through the center portal doors, underneath the Last Judgement. Once inside, Esmeralda was taken aback by the quiet beauty of the nave. From the soft candlelight from the candelabra and chandeliers illuminating the stone pillars to the bright colors of the stained glass window coloring the checkered black-and-white tiled floor. The calming aura of the hall served as a nice respite from the grit and grime of the city streets. 

“The candlelight really heightens the ambiance,” Phoebus mentioned to Esmeralda, who hummed in agreement. The captain scanned the cathedral and stopped in his tracks when he spotted a familiar face. He lightly elbowed Esmeralda to get her attention. “There’s our man of the hour.” 

Esmeralda turned her gaze over to the left side of the nave, where Quasi stood in front of the statue of Mary holding her blessed infant Son. The bellringer was surrounded by three children happily standing beside him as he talked to the Archdeacon, a bald fellow in a red coat and a blonde woman in a red dress, whose bangs jutted out from her headdress. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus exchanged curious glances and instinctively hid behind one of the stone columns. The dancer swiftly pulled Djali into her arms as they watched the scene unfold before them.

“I-I can teach them how to ring the bells, and care for them,” Quasi told the finely dressed man and woman. “I’ve been ringing them on my own for so long and I appreciate that these eager acolytes want to learn the craft.” 

The Archdeacon smiled at Quasi before turning his attention over to the noble adults. “For the past six years, Quasimodo has been the sole bellringer of Notre Dame. And while he is an expert in his field, he and I welcome those who wish to learn under his tutelage.” 

“Yeah, Scratchy, think about it!” Yakko interrupted. “We’ve got several job benefits, like extended break times, a union, and an awesome view of the city!” 

But Doctor Scratchinsniff seemed apprehensive. “Now, Quasimodo, are you sure zat ze Varners von’t be too much trouble for you?” 

“Oh not at all, Doctor,” Quasi assured. “They can be energetic, but I appreciate their eagerness for the job, a-and I’m glad to share my knowledge about the bells with them.” The bellringer glanced over at the siblings, giving them an encouraging smile. “I know they’ll do great.” 

Quasimodo’s approval certainly lifted the Warners’ spirits. 

Dr. Scratchinsniff and Heloise Nerz seemed satisfied with this development. “Alright kidzies, can you promise me and Hello Nurse that you vill be on your best behavior?” 

“We promise!” The Warners chorused. 

“Then it’s official!” Quasi exclaimed. “You can meet me at the bell tower tomorrow after I ring the sext.” 

Yakko smirked and blew a kiss. “Good night, everybody!” Quasimodo let out a disbelieving laugh at the double entendre. Archdeacon merely shook his head. 

But Dr. Scractchinsniff and Hello Nurse were not amused. “Yakko Warner, how dare you say such things in a church!” 

Hello Nurse approached Yakko with a frown. “He means you’ll arrive at noon,” she sternly told the boy. 

Yakko gave a sheepish shrug. “Right, right. I knew that.” 

But Quasimodo stepped in the elder sibling’s defense. “It’s alright, I don’t mind their humor, juvenile or otherwise. They still have the job.” 

The Warners cheered, bouncing excitedly around the bellringer. Wakko launched onto Quasi’s side, wrapping him in a big hug. “Oh, thank you, teacher!” 

“Together we’ll be the most powerful bellringers in all of France!” Dot declared. 

“I love that confidence,” Quasi complimented. 

The couple smiled. It only made sense that someone as kind and gentle as Quasi would be great with kids. Esmeralda stole a glance at Phoebus, who stared with great interest. Studying the expression on his face, she could not help but be reminded of one of her earlier encounters with the soldier. His eyes sparkled with fascination at the bellringer’s kindness to his students. They held the same enchanted glow as when he saw first her dance on the street all those years ago. 

Esmeralda could not help but wonder how Phoebus felt about Quasimodo…

“Hi there!” An exuberant raspy voice called out.

The couple jumped in their spots. They swiveled their heads to find Wakko happily waving at them. “Hide-behind-the-column is one of my favorite games!” The middle child chirped. “Can I join you in the next round?” 

“Come on, Vakko!” Dr. Scratchinsniff yanked Wakko by the arm. “This is vy you must be on your best behavior. Otherrvise you vill grow up to be as weird as them!” 

Phoebus looked at Esmeralda and shrugged. “We kind of set ourselves up for that.” 

Observing the interaction from nearby, the Archdeacon moved a step closer to where Quasi stood. “Am I correct to assume that they are friends of yours?” 

Quasi blinked. “Yes, they are, Father.” 

Archdeacon Dupin smiled, feeling content with the bellringer’s ever-growing circle of friends. “Well, I’ll allow you to tend to your friends.” 

Quasi looked at the older man and gave him a fond smile. “Thank you again for the help.” 

“I’m always happy to be of assistance, my son.” Archdeacon Dupin turned around to return to his office. 

Quasimodo began to move over to the pillar where his friends stood. “Hey you two,” He happily greeted them. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus smiled back at the bellringer. “Hey, Quasi,” they replied in near unison. 

“You know, I’m normally the one who tends to hide behind the columns,” the bellringer joked. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus both felt sheepish. “We just wanted to drop by early before taking you to the Court,” Esmeralda explained. “It was Phoebus’s bright idea to sneak up on you.” 

Quasi turned his gaze over to the Captain. “Guilty as charged,” Phoebus quipped. 

Quasimodo chuckled. “It’s the thought that counts, I suppose.” He glanced back at the tower entrance and back at the couple. “Come on,” he said smilingly “I’ll show you two around the loft.” 

When the trio arrived in the bell tower, Quasimodo led Esmeralda and Phoebus up the ladder to find the sunset dipping through the windows. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass mobile, bathing the loft in bright colors. Quasi looked over his shoulder and studied the awed expressions of the couple. 

“So this is your home,” Phoebus said lightly, to which Quasimodo nodded. 

The captain raised his hand. “Doesn’t it get drafty up here at this time of year?” 

“It does,” Quasi answered nonchalantly. 

Esmeralda looked over at the humble sleeping quarters made from hay and discarded statues. She marched over to pick up the two thin, tattered blankets from the floor. “Are these the only blankets you have?” 

Quasimodo rubbed his arm awkwardly. “They are…” he mumbled. “But I have a fireplace and enough candles to keep me warm in the coldest of nights.” 

Esmeralda shook her head as she placed the blankets in their proper place. A caroling of cooing sounds alerted the three, and they looked up to see some pigeons congregating on the rafters. 

“I take it these are your roommates?” Phoebus asked playfully, pointing up at the birds. 

Quasi chuckled. “The birds make for good company.” Just then the bellringer was reminded of one of his fonder childhood memories. “You know, when I was a lad, I’d always leave my leftovers for the birds and talk to them as if they were people. But when I was about five or six, I found a pigeon with a broken wing near one of the gargoyles. Thankfully, Jean, the previous bellringer, showed me how to treat the bird’s injury. A-And ever since, I’ve helped many of the birds that live here.” 

Esmeralda smiled sweetly. It was reassuring to hear how innately kind he was. Though she could only imagine how cruel of a guardian Frollo was, he could never break the bellringer’s compassion for others. 

Phoebus’s attention turned over to the crafts table. “Wait a minute, those are your figurines, aren’t they?” 

Quasi took the basket from Esmeralda and placed it on the table. “I’ll go fetch us some drinks.”

Esmeralda joined Phoebus, whose eyes were glued to the model city. She glanced to find the figurines of Quasimodo, Phoebus, and herself remained in the same position as she last saw them. 

“Phoebus, look,” she directed her finger over to the three figurines. Esmeralda smirked when she saw Phoebus’s face light up with excitement. 

“Oh wow,” Phoebus awed, picking up the figurine version of himself. “It’s like looking in a mirror.” 

To Esmeralda’s surprise, Phoebus placed his figurine doppelganger back in its original position, right next to Quasimodo. He looked up at the stained glass mobile and gently tapped it, causing the lights to sway. “This is incredible!” 

Quasi smiled at the praise. “I’m glad you think so,” he told the captain. The bellringer returned from the cupboard with three wooden goblets, plates, and a bottle of Merlot to find Esmeralda and Phoebus still gathered by his model city. 

He took the cork out of the bottle with an audible pop and began to pour the wine into the three cups. Once he finished, he looked up to find Esmeralda and Phoebus walking in his direction. Quasi smiled and wordlessly handed them their cups. 

When Quasi retrieved his cup, Phoebus raised his cup and smiled. “Cheers.” 

Esmeralda and Quasimodo joined in and clinked their cups against Phoebus’s. “Cheers,” they chorused before taking a drink. Quasi sipped his wine, basking in the joy of friendship. 

“So where are Pinky and Brain?” Esmeralda asked. 

Quasi’s face fell. The mice mentioned they needed to discuss something alone while he showed the Warners the bell tower. Surely they had not gone so far. He placed his cup on the table. “I’ll be right back,” the bellringer told them. 

Quasi sprinted out to the balcony and found the mice seated on one of the quatrefoil openings of the balcony railing. The rodents leaned close together, their tails intertwined. Truly they were a packaged deal. 

Quasi clasped his hands together and contentedly sighed at the beautiful sight. He wanted to gaze at the lovely pair forever. But he did not want to keep Esmeralda and Phoebus waiting. Feeling rather devilish, Quasi silently crept a few feet away from the mice and leaped on top of the stone railing. Crouching down, he stealthily scooted across the railing over to where his diminutive friends were seated. If he was going to break apart the mice’s loving moment, he was going to do so in a playful fashion. 

Meanwhile, the mice contentedly stared at the city. Pinky snuggled up against Brain’s chubby head. Brain blushed at the gesture. 

“Who would have thought that the two of us would finally have some alone time together, here on this cozy balcony!” Pinky swooned with clasped hands. 

“Yes, Pinky,” Brain agreed. “While the seating leaves much to be desired, I recognize that such a quatrefoil opening was not designed with comfort in mind.” 

Pinky blinked. “A Quatro-foil?” He repeated in befuddlement. 

Brain’s eyes sparkled. “Finally! An appropriate time to share my architectural knowledge!”

“You see, Pinky, the quatrefoil is Latin for ‘four leaves’ and it is a symmetrical decorative design containing four overlapping circles, not to be confused with trefoils, which have three overlapping circles,” Brain eloquently explained. “However, both quatrefoils and trefoils are found in most Gothic architecture.”

Pinky gazed at Brain with lovestruck eyes. While he did not understand most of what was said, he loved how excited Brain looked whenever he got to gush about his favorite things. Clasping his hands together in adoration, the taller mouse blissfully sighed.

Suddenly, their view of the city was obstructed by a mop of red hair, bright green eyes, and a playful grin. “Hey, guys!” 

The mice shrieked in horror. They latched onto each other as they fell backward, landing on the hard stone floor. The pigeons that congregated on the balcony flapped their wings as they took off from the scene. Brain, who quickly gathered his bearings, frowned at the bellringer. As lovely as the bellringer’s laughter sounded, the megalomaniac did not like that it was at his expense. 

“Quasi, what in the blazes were you thinking?” He chastised. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” the bellringer sweetly apologized. 

“Oh, yes you did,” Brain sardonically remarked, crossing his arms together. 

“But it was all in good fun!” Pinky exclaimed as he pulled Brain back into his arms once again. The warmth of Pinky’s embrace seemed to melt Brain’s anger almost instantly. Much like with Pinky, Brain could not stay mad at Quasimodo forever. 

“As much as I disdain cheeky behavior, I will admit that your little ploy was cleverly executed.” Brain declared, which earned him an extra loving squeeze from his lover. 

“Say Quasi, how did the lesson with the kids go?” Pinky eagerly asked. 

“Oh, it was splendid!” Quasi cheerfully replied. “They were very interested in the bells. Also, I just talked with their guardians and the Archdeacon, and the Warners are now my apprentices.” 

“Ooh, how exciting!” Pinky sighed. “Now you can wear a magical blue wizard’s hat and the kids can bring brooms to life to do all the housework. Zort!” 

“Pinky, I’m afraid only Hieronymus Bosch could understand your vivid imagination and lack of common sense.” Brain retorted. 

Quasimodo glanced at the city, noting the sun’s descent over the horizon. He needed to act quickly if he wanted to show Esmeralda and Phoebus the piece de resistance of his humble abode. 

The bellringer scooped the mice into his hands. “But we have to return to the loft. Esmeralda and Phoebus are here, and I want to show them the view from above.” 

“Hurrah! Visitors!” Pinky cheered. 

Brain, while not as enthusiastic, Brain expressed his approval. “I’m content with the extra company so long as Esmeralda didn’t bring the-”

Once the trio entered the tower, they were greeted by Esmeralda, Phoebus, and Djali. 

"-goat." Brain finished flatly. Djali gave a tired bleat in response. 

Quasi swiftly moved past the table. “Put down those drinks,” He told his friends. “I want to show you something that will sweep you off your feet!”

The bellringer motioned for the captain and the dancer to follow. Quasi gently placed the mice on his left shoulder and began to cruise up the ladder. Esmeralda and Phoebus were equally curious as to what Quasi had in store for them. Esmeralda scooped Djali into her left arm before making her way up the tower. 

Quasimodo quickly ascended the ladder with relative ease. “Oh! I should quickly introduce you to the bells,” Quasi mentioned, his voice oozing with giddiness. 

Once Esmeralda and Phoebus arrived on the rafters, they gazed at the surrounding bells in awe. 

“They’re lovely,” Esmeralda said. 

“And huge,” Phoebus added. 

Feeling spontaneous, Quasimodo climbed up on the beam to appease his beloved bells. “So over here is Little Sophia, and there are the triplets,” he then swung across the beams as he said their names. “Here’s Jeanne-Marie, Anne-Marie, and Louise-Marie.” 

“And who’s this one?” Esmeralda asked, pointing toward the biggest bell in the loft. 

“Big Marie,” he answered with a fond smile on his face. 

“A very appropriate name,” Phoebus casually remarked. 

Quasimodo hopped on the ladder. “Now come on. I saved the best for last!” he glided up the ladder with great finesse. Once he reached the top, he waved to his friends. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus stared at Quasi. The sunlight beamed through the doorway, basking the bellringer in a heavenly glow. 

Once they exited the doorway, they were greeted with the sight of Quasi gently placing the mice on the stone railing before seating himself right beside them. He turned around to Esmeralda and Phoebus, smiling joyfully at them and motioning for them to join in. 

They approached the railing where they stood spellbound by the beautiful scenery. The bold sunset painted the sky with rich shades of red, gold, and purple. They could see the many homes and businesses, as well as the rolling green hills on the outskirts of the city. Between the buildings laid the Seine, which sparkled with bright lights reflected from the sun.  

“Naaarf,” Pinky breathed, taking in the gorgeous sight. He felt his hand interlaced with Brain as they took their seats. Esmeralda carefully placed Djali down before joining Phoebus and Quasi by the railing.

Quasimodo hopped over to the other side of the railing. He lifted his green eyes and was transfixed by the sight of Esmeralda and Phoebus. They looked so beautiful. Their hair moved gently by the soft breeze.  He was lucky to be regarded as their friend. 

“So…what do you think?” He asked with a shy smile. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus were equally enchanted by Quasimodo upon hearing his soft inquiry. His green eyes shone brightly, his red curtain danced lightly through the wind. Even the playful way Quasi moved around the architecture. 

“This is beautiful…” Esmeralda answered. “It’s like sitting on top of the world.” 

“Agreed, you’ve got the best seat in town,” Phoebus humored. 

Esmeralda turned to the bellringer, gently placing her right hand on top of his left hand. “Thank you for sharing this with us, Quasi,” she reached for Phoebus’s hand to take. The captain wordlessly accepted her hand, smiling at her before fondly gazing at the bellringer. A second later, Phoebus moved his hand over to where Esmeralda and Quasimodo’s hands sat on the railing, lightly covering them both. Esmeralda stared at Phoebus's hand with great intrigue, noting how he gave her and Quasi's hand an equal amount of coverage. 

Quasimodo felt his cheeks heat up when he felt their hands on his and looked down to inspect them. Both were much smaller compared to his own hands but were nonetheless both warm and comforting. And yet, something about this gesture felt right. He, Esmeralda, and Phoebus, three people from wildly different backgrounds, formed a special bond born from kindness and loyalty.

This was the type of human connection Quasimodo yearned for during his years of isolation. 

Quasimodo looked up at Esmeralda and Phoebus and smiled sweetly at them. “I’m glad that I got to share this with you two.” 

Pinky and Brain kept their attention to the magnificent sunset, their hands and tails intertwined. 

Brain took a moment to stare at his hand clasped with Pinky’s. Their relationship had grown a lot since the last time they saw the sunrise from the top of Notre Dame. Gone were the awkwardness and hesitation of handing physical affection. He was now in a more comfortable place where he could show his appreciation and love for Pinky without fear of rejection. The progress made was simply astounding. 

He felt Pinky lean closer to his side. Brain gazed up at Pinky and gave an amused sigh. 

But the sound of grumbling shattered the romantic atmosphere. 

Pinky looked down at his shirt. “Oh dear, my tummy is having a bad case of the growlies.” 

Quasi carefully slipped his hand away from Esmeralda and Phoebus’s hold, scooting over to the mice. “We should probably have dinner,” he said as he hopped over the railing. 

“A most wise decision,” Brain agreed. “It’s best to satisfy PInky’s appetite before he becomes too grouchy.” 

Brain turned over to Pinky and helped him up. Quasimodo gently scooped the mice into his hands. Esmeralda picked up Djali and placed him over her shoulders. 

The stars began to illuminate the night sky when the friends retreated into the bell tower. 

Chapter Text

In a ramshackle manor in Limoges, Frollo struggled to recline in an aged wooden chair. The Minister of Justice did everything he could to forget about that horrifying encounter with that wicked demon, but to no avail. He tried to sleep it off, only to find himself in a nightmare drenched in hellish imagery and remnants of that raven-haired siren. These troubled thoughts followed him throughout the day when he met with some of the tenants of the fiefs to review Jehan’s ever-dwindling inventory. 

Exhausted from travel and religious guilt, Frollo tried to keep his attention on anything else. 

He studied the shoddy conditions of the manor. The old family home was in disarray compared to his Parisian abode. Dirty dishes were stacked on the kitchen table, which in turn attracted flies. The floors and curtains were awfully dirty, and he found near-empty bottles of liquor lying in various parts of the house. But expecting his irresponsible younger brother to keep the family home in tip-top shape was like expecting a dog to steer a horse-drawn wagon without issue. 

It had only been a day since he stepped into the manor, and he already missed his sterile office. 

Frollo sipped some wine from his unpolished goblet and grimaced as he watched Jehan joyously chatter away about his immature lifestyle. 

“And after I won at Baccarat, I said to the wench, ‘You owe me fifty sou, you cow!” The man cackled at his own joke and heartily gulped down his red wine straight from the bottle.

Frollo disappointedly ducked his head into his hand and groaned. His brother was pushing forty-five, and he still avoided responsibility like an obnoxious university student. Some things never change. 

“So how are things with you, Claude?” Jehan asked. 

“Well, unlike you, I’ve maintained my priorities,” Frollo answered confidently. “Paris is being cleansed of any criminal and unholy activity, and I am keeping the city pure from the ever-growing influence of the gypsies.”

Jehan looked rather unimpressed. “Yes, and I can safely assume your social life is equally dull,” he replied before taking another big swig of wine. “And what of your charge? How’s he been doing these days?” 

Frollo rolled his eyes at the mere mention of his burden. “The hunchback is still secluded in the cathedral.”

Jehan hummed. “Twenty years is an awfully long time to keep someone away from the world.” He said while he swirled the bottle in his hand. “The poor lad must be bored out of his mind.” 

“Don’t spare an ounce of your pity. I’ve given that thing enough assignments and chores to keep him occupied. Besides, he knows his place in the bell tower, and he won’t think twice to step outside it.” 

During sunset, Quasimodo led his friends down to the loft where they shared a lovely dinner. Brain was able to retrieve the goat hairs for his potion from Djali, but not without receiving some physical pain as he landed on the floor with a thud. But fortune was on the megalomaniac’s side, for he was grateful for Pinky’s swift aid and that his injury did not require immediate medical attention. 

After the vespers were rung, the group left the cathedral for the Court of Miracles. The light from Phoebus’s torch flickered against the dark city streets. Though Quasi felt slightly guilty for shirking his cloister-cleaning duty, he did not want to miss an opportunity to spend more time with his dearest friends. Djali took on the role as the mice’s mode of transport. 

They journeyed down an empty road and approached the cemetery. Quasimodo felt a slight chill creep down his twisted spine. Seeing the cemetery from Notre Dame was one thing, but he never thought he would step foot in one, and during the night, no less. Then a soft hand gently wrapped around his own callused hand. Quasi looked over towards Esmeralda, who smiled at him before guiding him down the consecrated ground. 

“I never thought walking through a cemetery at night would make for a great bonding moment, eh Quasi?” Phoebus asked, giving him a playful jab on the shoulder. 

Quasi thought for a moment before humoring the knight. “I’d take this over my evening lessons with Frollo, any day.” To his surprise, Esmeralda softly squeezed his hand. 

Meanwhile, the mice held hands as they observed the bellringer bonding with his two human friends. Pinky turned to Brain. “Oh, isn’t this just romantic?” He swooned with his clasped hands and leaned on top of Brain.

“Yes, Pinky, nothing elicits romance quite like roaming across a foreboding cemetery.” Brain drawled sarcastically. Despite his distaste for the ominous setting, he did not protest Pinky’s outrageous display of affection. 

A cold gust of wind bombarded the mice. Brain’s teeth chattered as he buried his arms into his cloak. To his surprise, Pinky unclasped his own cloak and draped it over his small beau. This act of kindness did not go unnoticed by Brain. He looked into Pinky’s soulful blue eyes. “You are far too generous, my friend,” he said, taking in the warmth of Pinky’s cloak, “and the world is far richer with you in it.” 

Pinky enveloped Brain in the tightest bear hug a mouse could give. 

“Over there!” Esmeralda declared, pointing her finger over at the tombstone with a red cross. The group moved toward the large gravemarker. “There’s a secret passageway that lies underneath this tomb,” the dancer explained, “but moving the slab is going to take some time.” 

Esmeralda approached the corner and pushed the barrier, creating a small opening. 

Quasi stepped forward and moved to the other side of the grave. Gripping his hands on the stone edges, he lifted the slab with relative ease and gently placed it on the side. He looked at the opening to find stone steps consumed in darkness. Quasi turned around only to find Esmeralda and Phoebus staring at him in awe. 

“Wow,” Phoebus said breathlessly while fiddling with the clasp of his cloak with his free hand. “That was quite impressive.” 

“Yeah,” Esmeralda agreed while weaving her hand through her raven hair. “Normally, it takes about a minute or two just to move that seal. But you did that within seconds, and on your own no less!” 

Quasi smiled at them. “Thanks.” 

Esmeralda then took out a pink scarf from her pocket. “Now Phoebus, I hate to have to do this, but Clopin insisted that you must wear a blindfold because he doesn’t want you to know where the Court of Miracles is.” 

“Isn’t it a little too late for that?” Phoebus asked, gesturing his hand towards the tombstone. 

Esmeralda stood behind Phoebus, standing on her tiptoes as she placed the cloth over his eyes. “It’s just a short walk underground, and we’ll be there in no time,” Esmeralda assured, giving her bearded beau a quick kiss on the lips. “If it helps, we can hold hands.”

Quasi watched as the couple interlocked their hands. Much to his surprise, he felt Phoebus’s strong hand gingerly clasped around his left hand. “I suppose this little blindfold routine does have its advantages,” the soldier joked. The bell ringer blushed, shifting his gaze toward the stone stairs. 

Esmeralda took the lead, guiding Phoebus and Quasimodo down the stairwell. Once the mice and the goat entered, Esmeralda stopped in her tracks. “We should close the entrance.”

Quasi looked up at the small threshold that separated the Court of Miracles from Paris. He remembered Frollo telling him of his never-ending quest to find and destroy the Romani safe haven. 

“I got it,” Quasi said without question, breaking free from Phoebus’s gentle grip and ascending the stairs. 

Back on the surface, Quasi lifted the lid and gently placed it askew on the entrance. He moved down a few steps and adjusted the lid from inside, covering their tracks. 

The stairwell was engulfed in darkness, with only the torch as their guiding light. Quasi slowly rejoined the group, brushing up against Phoebus’s arm. He instinctively found the soldier’s hand and softly clasped it with his hand. 

“Now the worst part is right around the corner, but it won’t last long,” Esmeralda said. 

Through the small torchlight, they were greeted with rows of skulls lined up against the walls. They were deep within the Parisian catacombs. Quasi’s brow quirked when he realized that his feet were submerged in murky water. Brain sniffed the air and gagged. They were deep in the Parisian sewer system!

“You could have warned us ahead of time,” Phoebus whispered. 

“And give away the fun?” Esmeralda argued in jest. 

Quasi coughed into his right arm. “Quasi, are you alright?” Esmeralda asked in earnest. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Quasi plugged his nostrils and kept his gaze on the lines of skulls. “I’m just swell.” 

Brain’s face paled at the noxious river beneath him. He clogged his nose and mouth with Pinky’s cape, hoping that Pinky’s sweet aroma would overpower the stench of sewage. 

Pinky, on the other hand, maintained his chipper attitude. He took a big sniff and exhaled. “Oh, that sweet bracing dankness reminds me of the apothecary!”

Brain frowned, keeping his facial orifices concealed by his partner’s cloak. “At least one of us is having fun.”

“You know Brain, the catacombs would make for an excellent dark ride! Narf!” Pinky’s voice matched the cheerfulness of his bright eyes.

“You don’t say,” Brain sarcastically remarked. 

Pinky slyly nodded, wrapping his arm around Brain. “It would make for a good tunnel of lo-oove!” He sang, batting his blue eyes playfully at the stoic mouse. 

Brain’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink, but his shocked reaction shifted to an annoyed growl. He grabbed Pinky by the collar and yanked him so close that their foreheads touched. “Pinky, if you don’t close your oral aperture this instant, you will be riding the tunnel of pain!” 

The megalomaniac released the taller mouse from his grasp. Though a tunnel of pain would have satisfied Pinky’s masochistic tendencies, he obeyed his partner’s command. Pinky opted to look at the various skeletons that lined the walls. Oh, how they looked so spooky and scary! He wondered if they could dance and use their own bones as musical instruments. But the mouse was surprised to find two of the skeletons blinking back at him. 

“Egad! The skeletons are alive!!!” The lanky mouse shrieked, latching onto Brain in a protective hug. Brain instinctively wrapped his arms around Pinky, pulling him close. 

Quasi and Phoebus were equally startled. The bellringer stood in front of the soldier to shield him from potential danger. 

“Guys, it’s alright,” Esmeralda reassured with a laugh. “We have volunteers who take turns guarding the Court of Miracles.”

“Why do they have to keep guard?” Pinky asked innocently. 

“For extra protection from those who wish to harm us,” Esmeralda answered. “We have lost so many in our community over the years, and since Clopin took on leadership, he wanted to keep us safe by any means necessary.” 

Quasi was reminded of the countless public executions of the Romani that occurred right outside Notre Dame during his youth. It always pained him to hear the agonized screams of the condemned; some were children. When he brought it up, Frollo said that it was all necessary measures to purify Paris of unholy influences. It broke his heart to realize just how much bigotry and danger the Romani had to deal with.  

But the group soon discovered a shining light at the end of the tunnel. The friends approached a large, dilapidated metal gate and arrived at the Court of Miracles. Esmeralda lifted the blindfold off of Phoebus, who gazed in astonishment alongside Quasi and the mice at the Court.

“Naaaarf.” Pinky purred in surprise. 

Colorful tapestries decorated the ceiling. Rows of tents and rickety wagons were smushed together to create a vibrant canvas amidst the stone facade. Families gathered around small bonfires. The playful shrieks of children, gossiping adults, and cries of various animals filled the air. Quasi looked at the stone columns and staircases and was reminded of Notre Dame. Much like how he was forced in the bell tower, Esmeralda and her people had to seek shelter from society’s scorn. But while Quasi only had the bells and stone statues as his friends, Esmeralda was surrounded by a community of people who helped one another. 

Brain hummed at the underground shelter. Settling near the sewers was concerning, especially if small children are around. The people living in tight living quarters reminded him of his days in the apothecary cage. Things shouldn't have to be this way. Brain silently vowed that once he became king of France, he was going to make sure that the Romani, or any marginalized group for that matter, did not have to live in secrecy on the fringes of society.

“Say Brain, I didn’t think they’d have a giant version of hangman here! Zort!” Pinky exclaimed, pointing toward the scaffold where two nooses swayed. 

“That’s where our unwanted guests hang about!” Clopin snuck up on Quasi and Phoebus from behind. He grabbed the mice in one hand and proceeded to push the two men. “Now come, come, I must tell the others of the good noose.”

Esmeralda stepped behind Clopin and yanked him by his back collar. “Knock it off, Clopin.” 

“Bah, no one appreciates gallows humor these days,” Clopin complained as he walked backwards. But the jester shifted his focus toward Quasimodo, his eyes gleaming with interest. “However, I must steal the bellringer and his mice from you two.” He gently interlocked his arm around Quasimodo’s and began to move left. 

Esmeralda and Phoebus were miffed that the leader-slash-entertainer was taking away their dearest companion. 

“But he came here with us,” Phoebus protested.

 “We are in the midst of a creative collaboration, and there is much to discuss!” Clopin explained, pointing his finger at the captain. 

Quasi looked at Esmeralda and Phoebus as Clopin dragged him and the mice away. His heart sank at their forlorn expressions. “I’ll catch up with you later, then,” he meekly offered. 

“Yeah, we’ll still be here,” Esmeralda assured. 

The Roma leader led Quasi and the mice over to his puppeteer wagon. Quasi gazed the various puppets laid across the small wooden stage. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that underneath the Clopin puppet was one of himself. Soft strands of red hair sat on top of a friendly face, with bright green eyes and a gentle smile. It was a far cry from his wooden figurine he carved out of self-loathing. After believing himself to be a monster for years, Quasimodo was moved at the sight of a depiction of him that was so tender and human. 

“Now, let’s get down to brass tacks and discuss my latest creative endeavor.” Clopin declared as he placed the mice on his makeshift puppet stage. 

Pinky raised his hand in the air. “Ooh, can we play with the puppets?” 

“Maybe later, my friend,” Clopin suggested, using his puppet alter ego to pat Pinky’s head. “For now, I shall regale you with my pitch!” He dramatically cleared his throat and revealed a painted background of a shining castle, in a lush valley near a foreboding mountain. “Once upon a time in a faraway land, two small lab mice lived inside a cage and belonged to the famed wizard Merlin.” Clopin wore two felt puppets of the mice dressed in their medieval garb. The Pinky puppet wore a bright, bucktoothed grin while The Brain puppet wore a surly frown.

“Egad, it’s like looking in a mirror!” Pinky exclaimed to Brain. However, the megalomaniac frowned and crossed his arms. Art was imitating life, but not to his liking. 

“After escaping their cage, they set off to create a magic potion to take over the world. But, they need to retrieve the toenail of the Red Dragon!” Clopin scowled, extending his arms out like dragon wings. “So the mice embark on a quest to the Murky Mountains and clip the toenail from the fearsome beast. During their quest, Pinky is trying to come up with rhymes for his song, much to Brain’s annoyance.” He picked up a small lute, plucking on the strings before placing it on the stage. “After they retrieve the toenail, they enrage the dragon who chases them across the land!” 

Clopin heaved up a large red dragon puppet with intricately patterned scales, glowing yellow eyes, sharp teeth, and gargantuan wings. His craftsmanship elicited oohs and aahs from his companions. Even the irascible Brain was impressed. 

“Brain manages to throw the toenail in the cauldron, but Pinky is still singing the song as he is casting the spell and struggling to find a word that rhymes with ease. Instead of completing the spell, Brain yells out ‘big cheese’, and his head then turns into a giant block of moldy cheese!” Clopin took out a new puppet Brain, whose head was in the shape of a large Swiss cheese. 

Pinky clutched his stomach as he laughed hard, and Quasi found himself chuckling at the comical puppet. Brain, on the other hand, was not amused. “Hysterical,” he muttered sarcastically.

But Brain’s less-than-enthusiastic reaction did not go unnoticed. “Oh, chin up, my friend,” Clopin told the mouse, “the audience will get a lot out of this daring adventure about the dangers of hubris.”

“Bah!” Brain barked. The thought of him being seen as humorous by the children was greatly mortifying. “They’d get more mileage out of a game of hoop rolling!” 

“But Brain, our story will make so many children happy! Narf!” Pinky exclaimed. Then the lanky mouse’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute,” he turned toward Clopin, “can Brain and I star in your show?” 

“What?” Brain angrily exclaimed. 

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea!” Clopin agreed. “Who better to act out the story of two mice trying to take over the world than two mice!” 

“I’d rather bathe in leeches,” Brain retorted. 

“But Brain,” Pinky piped up, “I thought you loved acting?” 

Brain fiddled with his hands. “Yes,” he admitted, “but I would much rather play a more dramatic role than be portrayed as a clown! The last thing I need is to be a children’s entertainer.” 

“But the children love you and Pinky,” Quasi interjected. “The figures of you two are constantly selling out, and I have to keep making new ones to keep up with demand.” 

“And it it’s any consolation, there’s already a bigger fool than you in my lineup.” Clopin pulled out a puppet of Frollo, bearing his comically sharp teeth. 

Brain stopped to ponder. “Oh, alright, I’ll do it,” he relented. “But only because it’ll make Pinky happy.” 

Pinky scooped him up in a tight hug, nearly crushing his ribcage. “Oh, Brain! We are going to have so much fun!” He cheered, twirling the smaller mouse around in his arms. 

Brain struggled in Pinky’s grasp. “It will be, if my internal organs don’t collapse.” 

Quasimodo chuckled at the mice’s antics. His eyes glanced back to the puppets, and he inspected them once more with great interest. “I have to say, I’m impressed with how much craftsmanship goes into these puppets,” Quasi earnestly told Clopin. “You must really love creating and performing your shows.”

Clopin smiled. “It’s rewarding to hear that from a fellow artist,” he admitted. “It’s a lifelong passion. My puppet shows have been a great outlet of creativity and brought a lot of positivity in an otherwise harsh world.” 

The bell ringer nodded. “I would love to learn more about puppetry,” Quasi blurted. But his cheeks heated up after he spoke. “I-If that’s alright with you, of course.” 

Clopin stared back at the bell ringer and grinned. “Why don’t you assist my production as a stagehand?” 

Quasi blinked. “So I’ll be working solely in the background?”

“Preferrably,” Clopin answered. Quasi exhaled, grateful to know that he won’t be given any extra attention. 

For the next hour, Clopin, Quasimodo, and the mice got to work establishing the story’s script. Quasi learned about the different types of puppetry Clopin employed in his shows. The entertainer educated him on hand puppetry, how the head was typically made from papier-mache and the body was made from fabric. However, Clopin’s glove puppets proved to be far too small for the bell ringer’s large hands. Clopin then showcased shadow puppetry. Quasi got to try out the flat, articulated puppets, moving them between the light source and the translucent scrim. The mice also got to work, designing early-medieval costumes appropriate for the play. 

The bell ringer almost lost track of time when he realized that he needed to return to the cathedral to ring the compline. Clopin shook the bellringer’s hand and told him and the mice to return to the Court of Miracles tomorrow evening for more rehearsals. 

Quasi searched through the crowds and spotted Esmeralda and Phoebus. But it wasn’t long before he found the couple seated at a table playing a card game together.

“Hey, you two,” Quasi said. Esmeralda and Phoebus turned their heads toward Quasi, dropping the cards all over the table. “There you are, Quasi!” Phoebus greeted. “Would you care to join us for a game of fifty-two pickup?” 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Quasi apologized. “I have to return to Notre Dame and ring the compline.” His heart sank when he saw the dismayed expressions on their faces. 

Esmeralda got out of her seat. “Before you go, there’s something I want to give you!” She turned around and rushed back to her tent. Not long after, she returned carrying a large purple blanket stitched with golden stars in her arms.

Pinky’s eyes sparkled. “Egad, what a lovely blanket!” 

Quasi was astonished. He felt like he didn’t do much to deserve such a thoughtful gift. “Oh no, I-I don’t think I deserve this-”

“Yes, you do,” she interrupted, her tone firm but loving. “Winter is right around the corner, and I want you to sleep comfortably.” 

Quasi was touched by the gesture. For years, he dreaded the colder seasons. The cold winds blew into the bell tower, and Frollo did not allow him to have more than a few thin blankets to sleep in. He learned to soldier those cold winter nights and appreciate what little he had. Esmeralda was incredibly considerate to give him something that would provide comfort from the cold. “Thank you, Esmeralda. I’ll make good use out of it.” 

“You’re welcome, my friend,” she said as she gave him a soft peck on the forehead. 

Phoebus approached Quasi and placed his hand on his shoulder. “You have a good night, Quasi.” 

“Thanks, you too,” Quasi replied, noting that Phoebus’s hand lingered a little longer than normal. “Clopin told me to come back to the Court tomorrow for rehearsals, so I'll be back here tomorrow night." 

“Great!” Esmeralda exclaimed. “You’ll come tomorrow as well, right Phoebus?” 

“I can’t,” Phoebus groaned. “I’m working the night shift tomorrow.” He glanced back at the bell ringer. “But hopefully I’ll see you around.” 

Quasi nodded, giving the two another friendly wave before leaving. 

Esmeralda looked over at Phoebus and noticed the familiar glimmer in his dark brown eyes. Her mind wandered back to when he first met her, how his eyes held such reverence and affection for her. That same light reignited and directed its focus on Quasi. 

She smiled, taking comfort in the knowledge that her lover also had strong feelings toward the bellringer. 

Quasimodo adjusted his grasp over the quilt as he traversed the city streets. Light rain cascaded down on the city as the trio made their way home through the darkened road. Quasimodo attempted to shield the quilt, tucking it protectively under his left arm and shielding it with his navy blue cape. 

Despite the somber atmosphere, Pinky was in high spirits. “Oh, I can’t believe we’re going to be acting!” The lanky mouse gushed, smiling brightly. 

“A dubious pleasure,” Brain remarked. “But I suppose forging strong alliances with the common folk and endearing ourselves to the common folk will benefit us greatly once we ascend the throne.”

“Oh, don’t be glum, Brain,” Quasi assured the diminutive mouse, “at least you have a commanding presence. I don’t think I have the courage to perform in front of an audience.”

“But don’t you ring the bells for everyone in the city?” Pinky asked.

Quasi blinked as he walked. Perhaps Pinky had a point. “Yes, but from the comfort of the bell tower, completely hidden within my sanctuary. That’s completely different to performing on a stage where people can see you.” 

“So you’re the bell ringer of Notre Dame!” A lively voice exclaimed. 

Quasimodo stopped in his tracks. He had never heard anyone pronounce Dame with a hard ‘A’ before. The mice were equally perplexed by the unfamiliar accent. They turned around to see a black-haired nobleman flamboyantly garbed in red and black striped attire. His gold necklace and rings sparkled in the moonlight. 

“Oh, he-hello monsieur,” Quasi nervously greeted. 

“You can ditch the formalities, my good man,” the stranger casually replied, waving his hand down in dismissal. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr. Itch, and I’ve come to give you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” He handed Quasi his business card. He and the mice looked over at the small card and read the inscription. 

Monsieur Itch

Proprietor of Wayward Souls

“What do you want?” Brain sneered. He wore a fierce scowl, clearly unimpressed with the businessman’s flashy approach. 

“Why I just wanna help out Paris’s beloved bell ringer!” Mr. Itch defended. He reached into his coat and pulled out a shimmering gold scroll. With a flick of his hand, the parchment unfurled to reveal a contract outlined in neat black lettering. 

“I’ve been around the block before, hearing all sorts of stories about the supposed monster from the cathedral and how you haunt all of Paris and whatnot.” Mr. Itch explained. “But what if I told you that I can change your life for the better!” 

Quasi’s brows furrowed in suspicion. “What do you mean?” 

Mr. Itch snapped his fingers. Out of a cloud of red smoke appeared a long, arched mirror. “Well, take a look!” 

Quasi stepped forward to face his reflection, only to stare at someone unfamiliar. The man in the mirror shared some of Quasi’s physical features: his red hair, green eyes, and large forearms. But that was where the similarities ended. The reflection’s teeth were straight, his back was not hunched over, his face was symmetrical, and he was much taller. He was everything Quasimodo was not. 

“I can change you into a normal guy, and all of your problems will be solved!” Mr. Itch proclaimed. “Girls will be lining up for you, you’ll walk around town without people starin’ at you, and you’ll never be called a monster ever again.”

The mice exchanged worried glances. Quasimodo placed his hand on his cheek, only to find the able-bodied man behind the mirror copying his every move. “I don’t know what to say…” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mr. Itch replied. “All you have to do is sign this contract.” He snapped his fingers again, and a fancy parchment appeared out of another cloud of red smoke. 

Quasi took the contract from Mr. Itch and silently read the text. 

I, Quasimodo, Bell Ringer of Notre Dame and Local Artist, hereby agree to forfeit my soul over to Monsieur Itch, Proprietor of Wayward Souls, Inventor of Rhythmic Gymnastics, and Master of Hell, in exchange will receive an able-bodied human form for the rest of my natural life. Additionally, I, Quasimodo, comprehend that once this contract is signed, my soul is permanently condemned to the fiery pit. This contract is non-voidable. 

Customer's Signature:

Proprietor's Signature: Monsieur Itch

“Quasi, don’t throw your soul away!” Brain commanded. Pinky nodded in agreement. “Troz! We love all of you!” 

But the mice were engulfed in a floating red sphere, rendering them silent. “That oughta hold you little pipsqueaks,” Mr. Itch said with a cruel grin. 

Quasimodo shook his head. His relationship with his body had been complicated For years, Frollo instilled in him the notion that his body was a punishment by God for his mother’s trespasses and that he must spend the rest of his existence hidden away because the people out there would greet him with scorn. He felt deeply ashamed about his appearance. But after forming new friendships both inside and outside the cathedral, he realized that Frollo was not entirely right about how the world would treat him. Sure, some folks still stared at him suspiciously, but others warmed up to him and treated him like any other person. Quasi placed a hand over the bulging lump above his left eye and glided his tongue across his crooked teeth. He then remembered the sermon at mass: Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him. 

“So what do you say?” Mr. Itch asked. The bell ringer looked up at the proprietor and noticed an insidious, fiery glint in the man’s eyes that resembled the fires of Hell. 

Quasimodo looked at the proprietor and frowned. “It’s a tempting offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” 

Mr. Itch stood dumbfounded at the answer he received. The glowing red sphere popped, causing the mice to fall to the ground. “Come again?”

“I’m not going to sign your contract.” Quasi reiterated more firmly. He walked over to the groaning mice, gently scooping them into his hands. 

“Do you have a problem with the terms and conditions of the contract?” Mr. Itch inquired. 

“No,” Quasi answered bluntly while comforting the mice, “what I do take issue with is the proposition itself.”

The devilish salesman was astounded by this outright rejection. He needed to persuade this stubborn client. “But, but I can give you a whole body transformation that can guarantee you a better life!”

“I already have a good life with the body I have!” Quasi argued. “I have good friends, two jobs that I love, and I’m more involved in my community than ever before. I already have everything that I could ever want!” 

Pinky and Brain smiled at their friend. Quasi had come so far from where he had been when they first met. Though he retained his mild-mannered demeanor, he spoke more confidently and loved himself with the same unwavering conviction as he loved others. Quasi had become assertive, and they couldn’t be prouder of him. 

Mr. Itch was flabbergasted, but he was not going to surrender so easily. “But there are folks out there who still think you’re a monster!”

Quasi angrily glared at him. “You think I don’t know that?” He spat. “But I’d much rather have a few friends who accept me for who I am than be beloved for something I’m not.” He coldly turned his back on Mr. Itch. “Now leave us alone!” 

The bell ringer left the salesman in a huff and furiously strode down the street. Pinky gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up, and Brain simply nodded at him with a proud smile. 

“NOOOO!!!” They heard Itch yell. “What does a guy have to do to collect some souls around here?!?!”

The trio froze upon hearing Itch’s voice gradually deepen to a booming baritone. They looked around to see the salesman’s body contorting into something otherworldly. His Pale white skin shifted into a slick shade of red. White teeth grew into razor-sharp fangs. Lanky arms violently bulged into a more sculpted muscular shape. A pair of pointed black horns sprouted out of his head. The creature opened his gleaming scarlet eyes and stared straight at the trio with malicious intent. 

Quasimodo stumbled backwards. He had heard stories of the Devil from Frollo’s teachings, but he never thought he’d encounter the real thing. 

“Run, Quasi, run!” Brain screeched. 

The bell ringer sprinted as fast as his legs could allow. Quasi carefully clutched the mice into his hands, cupping them protectively in his grasp. A pair of galloping hooves pounded on the cobblestone street, causing Quasi to quicken his speed. He turned a street corner and found Notre Dame looming over the barren Place du Parvis. They were in the home stretch now. 

Quasimodo took every ounce of energy left and made a mad dash through the empty square. He kept his gaze on the various statues that decorated the church’s exterior. The reassurance from his stone audience gave the bellringer the extra push he needed to reunite with his beloved sanctuary. 

He climbed the stone steps and finally reached the grand wooden doors. With a powerful pull, he swung it open with tremendous force. Once inside, he slammed the door shut. He leaned back against the door. The dark serenity of the nave was a welcome respite from the tempting hellfire from earlier. 

Quasi’s heart rammed against his chest. Placing a hand over his chest, he slid down against the wooden door and sat down. Pinky and Brain were equally wiped out. The lanky mouse hugged the bellringer’s thumb. 

“We survived…” Brain exhaled, his weak voice echoing throughout the nave. 

“Is everyone alright?” Quasi asked the mice. 

“I’m fine. Narf!” Pinky answered, looking greatly fearful. “But I think that I’m going to have a difficult time sleeping tonight.” 

“I concur,” Brain breathed in agreement, patting Pinky on the back.

Suddenly, there was a sinister laugh from outside. The trio froze. “You think you’re so clever, secretly disobeying your master’s orders!” They heard Mr. Itch bark in his regular voice.

Out of curiosity, Quasi opened the door ever so slightly and caught a glimpse of Mr. Itch, now back in his human form, standing in the cathedral square. “But your old man will come home eventually. The moment he finds out what you’ve been up to, he’s gonna make your life a living hell!” 

With a snap of his fingers, Mr. Itch disappeared with a fiery bang. The bellringer and the mice gaped as they watched the red smoke fade away. Several windows in the surrounding homes illuminated. 

“Think nothing of him, Quasi,” Brain offered. “We claimed sanctuary. That demon would never step foot in the cathedral.”

But Quasi did not reply. He closed the door once more and walked silently through the nave. All the candles had been extinguished, but the bell ringer was able to navigate the church just fine. Moonlight poured through the rose window, spilling onto the floor. The heavy smell of incense lingered in the air. 

As Brain gazed around the nave, he felt Pinky’s soft hand clasping his. He looked over at his partner, who still appeared anxious. Unable to find any words of comfort, Brain opted to give Pinky’s hand a reassuring squeeze. It was a reminder that whatever life threw at them, they would face it together. 

Quasi stopped at the statue of Mary holding the infant Jesus. Their gentle, compassionate gazes were a far cry from the fiery, scheming gleam of Mr. Itch. The mocking warning of Frollo’s return continued to echo in his head. Only now did Quasimodo realize that his freedom had come with a cost. 

But his gaze remained steady on the Holy Family. Unlike Frollo, there was no trace of disappointment or scorn on their faces. Compassion and mercy radiated from their gentle stone expressions. Quasi was grateful that he could still turn to the statues for comfort. 

Pinky and Brain silently looked to the bellringer, trying to decipher what the young man was pondering about. 

Quasimodo shifted his attention to the blanket in his arms. The gift had come as a surprise, and part of him felt like he didn’t deserve it, but he accepted it on Esmeralda’s insistence. He placed his left index finger on the blanket and gently trailed across its soft terrain. After growing up with thin, tattered sheets, it was a blessing to receive something with much more weight and warmth. Quasi then realized how thoughtful Esmeralda was. She most likely gave it to him to provide him with the comfort that Frollo so coldly denied. 

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. He brought himself down to his knees and embraced the blanket like the treasure it was. It was a comforting reminder of his friendship with Esmeralda, and another piece of evidence of how truly wrong Frollo was about the world. 

Quasimodo felt a small hand soothing the top of his head, and a lanky pair of arms wrapped around his left forearm. A tear escaped from his eye. How blessed he was to receive such comfort from good friends. It was all he ever wanted out of life. 

The bellringer felt an ongoing war within himself. The fear of Frollo’s wrath and the love he had for his friends and his community clashed. He was terrified of what the minister would do if he discovered what had happened behind his back, but his desire to continue exploring the city and strengthen the bonds with his companions would only fuel his rebellious streak. He would need to confide in his friends to help him out of this rut. Quasi moved his right hand on top of Brain’s head, giving his large cranium a grateful tussle. He then placed that same hand over Pinky, who still kept his embrace around his arm. Quasi gently soothed Pinky’s back. 

Quasimodo shifted his gaze back at Mary and Jesus. He had defied Frollo’s orders, and yet did not feel an ounce of regret for his disobedience. Quasi did not feel compelled to pray for forgiveness. 

Instead, he prayed for his friends and to spend more time out there.