Francis LaPorte and the Association of Good Fellows

Young Reformers

Monday, 25 Sivan, 5693

Francis sat down at his desk and sighed. He would have to write a letter, since his meeting with the Minister of Cultural Affairs hadn't gone exactly as he would have liked. So, he took the pen in his hand and tapped it against the blank paper in front of him before lifting his eyes again to his students.

"Alright, boys," he said, "I'll need you to run me through this once more, and tell me exactly what happened — don't leave anything out."

"Understood, Mr. Francis," one of the boys said, his eyes glancing at his classmate. "I don't think that I could ever forget something as exhilarating as that. Could you, Max?"

The other boy shook his head, his brown eyes fixed on his own shoes. "No, Paul, I couldn't."

"Alright," Francis surmised, wanting to encourage them to get on with telling him. "So, the meeting was called by the Garman Kingsman Student Group, and..."

"Actually," Paul Everett interrupted, raising a finger in correction, "it was the Garman Student Youth Organization. Max and I belong to that. That's why we went."

Max nodded. "That's right."

"Yes, of course," Francis said. "I had been a little concerned that the student body at large might feel intimidated by the pressure of the violent minority and agree to ratify the referendum in favor of old Jack Reynolds."

"Yes, sir," replied Maximus Rieger, gaining some confidence. "So were we, believe me. But that was why we had the plan in place, you know..." he hesitated, "to walk out whenever they suggested it. We thought that that might make a bigger point and demand a little less courage. If everyone got up at once, it wouldn't just be one voice against it but many."

"Yes!" Everett jumped in with his blood pumping. "And that's just what it was — all of us, the students of the University of Bevel, stood in solidarity against this monstrous injustice on the part of the Garman Kingsmen!"

The boy had become animated, causing Francis to conclude that he must have been still feeling the effects of the adrenaline, and he had gone so far as to begin acting out the scene of the students' crusade "for justice!". Francis leaned back in his padded armchair and watched. A discreet smile crept across his delicate lips. The boy could not be stopped, so why should he do anything but sit back and enjoy the dramatization of the events of the afternoon.

"From the broad platform before us came the condescending voice of Gunther Reed, the plebeian swine and self-professing Associate," Everett went on, completely lost in his rendition.

"Paul," Max said sternly, clearing his throat. He meant to remind him that they shouldn't be insulting people... no matter how bad they were. It simply was not the proper tactic.

Paul stopped for a moment and blinked as if he had suddenly been flung back into reality. "Oh, right. Sorry. Well, he's bad news, anyway. He took control of the entire meeting! And when he raised his voice to suggest that we should discuss the matter of supporting Mule Reynolds to add our voices to the insurmountable, seething popular opinion, well, that was the sign. And just like that, Mr. Francis, we all got up and walked out. Much to my surprise, and I think to the surprise of my fellow Reformers, also, because no one could have expected it, nine-tenths of the assembly walked out with us! Can you believe it, Mr. Francis? Nine-tenths! We just up and left!"

Max cleared his throat. "Actually, Paul, I think it was more like seventy-five to eighty percent. It wasn't quite ninety, was it? Do you think?"

Paul shook his head in stubborn defiance. "No, Maximus Rieger, it was ninety — no less, and I would stake our friendship on it! Mr. Francis, you should have seen that room thin out!" He snapped his fingers, "Just like that."

Francis had his head resting comfortably on his fist, and he smiled at Paul and Max as he continued to watch them, enjoying their dramatic retelling of the event. "Then what?" he asked them, patiently waiting for the conclusion of what he should write in his letter.

"Well, we all marched outside, courageous and exuberant, our blood boiling in defiance of the tyrannical state and this egregious infringement on the sovereignty of the church," said Everett, marching along with his words.

"Actually, sir," Max corrected, raising a finger, "we just walked out of the building in file together. It was far from an organized march, and no one said anything at the time, really. We all just sort of... left."

"Yes," Paul said, "but in the beating of our hearts we cried, 'Resistance!' Then marched out of the lecture hall and gathered around the statue of H.E.Gel, the great Garman philosopher, positioned so prominently at the front, and there we held a meeting of our own for all the world to see."

"It was a mix of us," Max added. "It wasn't just the Kingsmen Reformers or those of us who feel as you do towards Freitag... or even that greater contingent which has become disenfranchised with the National Association themselves; it was all of us, Associates and non-Associates alike. What the Garman Kingsmen have started with this all-out attack on Bishop Bealer is wrong, and everybody knows it. Mr. Francis, this is a public relations disaster for them."

Francis sat up in his seat and leaned forward, intrigued by Maximus's report. "You're quite certain that some of the students who walked out with you were members of the Good Fellows Association?" he asked, wanting to make absolutely certain that there would not be found a single error in his report.

Max nodded. "Yes, sir. Some of them still had their PS jackets on, patches and all. In fact, one raised a 'Verehren!' for the Imperial Chancellor, and the rest of us all followed suit." He paused there, raising his hands helplessly as he shrugged. "What else could be done? Then, likewise, someone else offered another 'Verehren!' this time for the Imperial Bishop, for Bealer, and we all gladly joined in that."

Paul Everett was nodding emphatically with agreement. "Yes, sir! A very patriotic lot! We would not have our commitment to the Garman Empire questioned, not by any means, even in the midst of this gross darkness! We are Garmans, and we are proud of it!"

Francis nodded, leaning back over his desk and grabbing his pen with fresh confidence. "Thank you, boys," he said, brushing the ink-covered tip over the length of the virgin page. "You have both been very helpful to me, and I will see to it that the details of the events are properly recorded here in this letter, which I will be sure to pass along as needed. I don't want the authorities to try anything to stop our meeting on Thursday. We'll actually have some dialogue then, and I would hate to see the free exchange of ideas hindered on campus any more than it already has been."

The two boys looked at each other, delighted to have been of help to their beloved teacher who had always done so much for them. They were all smiles, basking in triumph, and each clasped the other's hand in a celebratory shake as their faces shone with pride. For the first time in months, it seemed that the future might belong to them after all.