Hugo Kramer, royal calligrapher, toiled away at his desk til the wee hours of the morning, working by candlelight with such dedication that he didn't notice two dark figures approach.
As they came closer the dark figures appeared to merge into a singular form. “I need to procure a letter” the form whispered to the calligrapher. Hugo jumped in his chair and found himself looking at a familiar face.
Quasimodo walked over to a dark corner and gestured for me to follow him. He handed me a note and on the back of the note: a map. A map to what? I couldn’t guess.
Staggering to the conclusion of the route scrawled out on the tattered treasure map, Quasi knew that with the golden sculliosis brace before him, a hunchback he’d no longer be.