"What on earth is going on?!" thundered the voice of an angry man.
"This is unacceptable!" roared another voice. "It's all their fault! I will not tolerate my child failing his exam because of…"
"They're nothing but budding delinquents!" another woman lashed out.
Those last accusations were the final straw.
Leaning against the closed doors of the auditorium, Helga sprang to her feet, her face set. She allowed herself a brief moment to stare down the accusing looks of the families packed in front of the building. And suddenly, Helga burst out laughing, which threw that fine crowd completely off balance. Some showed their embarrassment, others their incomprehension. One thing was certain: Helga's laughter left no one indifferent. Even the Johntoms couple behind her felt somewhat ill at ease.
"That's what I call a bunch of jealous people!" Helga shot back without blinking. "Ha!"
"What, how dare you!?" cried an offended man.
Leaning on a cane made of precious wood, the man stood imposingly in his long purple velvet coat and matching hat. The latter held in place a mane of hair whose golden hue faded to white in his neatly trimmed beard.
"What do you mean?" gasped Helga. "You're the one with the gall to criticize the fact that our kids did better than the others! If that isn't jealousy, I don't know what to call it!"
"Ooooh!!" the outraged families reacted.
"Better than ours, you mean," the displeased man pointed out. "They used criminal documents! And you dare to say they did better than our children?"
"Yes! I stand by it!" Helga shot back firmly. "When our kids started their presentation, didn't you find it gripping?! Wasn't it interesting?! Saying otherwise would be a lie."
"Under the pretext of making a subject interesting, are you telling us you're fine with them breaking the law and the rules?"
Helga did not utter a word.
The question had shaken her. Her hesitation in itself caught the crowd's attention. Sensing he'd struck home, the man in the velvet coat seized the chance to taunt her.
"You've got nothing more to say?" he needled, a smirk on his lips.
Caught up in her thoughts, Lurcard's aunt couldn't seem to form a reply. Meanwhile, the families clustered at the doors were flaying her with their eyes.
Then the man turned back to the others to draw their attention. "You see? She claims she's proud to encourage such behavior."
That remark was the last straw.
"They had the courage to dare!" the aunt retorted hotly. "If, to you, having wit and daring means breaking the rules… then I say: yes! I'm proud they dared to show some spirit! They showed everyone they've got the mettle of great sailors! And that, you can't deny!"
The aunt's passionate declaration stunned everyone into silence. But it prompted the man in the coat to answer with contempt:
"Great sailors? Or rather great bandits? Future pirates, more like. None of the families here has any doubt where you found the money to pay your brat's school fees."
At that moment, Helga saw red.
"What, what do you mean by that, you—?!"
She was about to throw herself at the man when Bodwell's booming voice rang out.
"That's enough!"
Everyone jumped.
The crowd was startled to discover, beneath Bodwell Johntoms's mild, easygoing appearance, an implacable strength of character. He laid a hand on Helga's shoulder to calm her. It worked so well that even Lurcard's aunt, surprised, raised her eyebrows. Allan's father stepped past her to move closer to the man in the velvet coat.
"Mr. Boltson, I do not think running others down or speculating about their reputation without proof is particularly commendable either. Is that the example you wish to set for your son?" asked Bodwell, while casting a glance at Bill, who stood beside his father.
As for the young man, his face betrayed his embarrassment.
"Today's topic has nothing to do with our children's school fees," Bodwell went on. "It has to do with the demonstration of the quality of their work. As Mrs. Helga pointed out very well, our sons showed ingenuity and boldness. Granted, that boldness puts them in a difficult position, but under no circumstances will I accept your calling them bad boys. As far as I know, they neither stole nor falsified any information; they themselves found it in the academy's own documentation. So whose fault is that?"
With that, Bodwell turned away from Boltson—but stopped. Something had just crossed his mind.
"I am very glad that the fate of our two boys does not rest in your hands. I believe that, with your judgment, they wouldn't have stood a chance, despite their undeniable talent," Allan's father concluded.
Then he returned to his wife and to Helga, whom he led away from the auditorium doors.
Bodwell's final words had stoked the inner fire of Bill's father, who was boiling on the spot. Not wanting the other families to see how much it had affected him, Boltson fixed his attention on the building's doors, as if to purge his unease. He stood there, hoping. He hoped the academy would pass the same judgment he secretly wished upon the two boys.
While Bill's father's unspoken pleas swelled inside him, up on the rooftop the flags of the different Companies rippled in the light breeze.
After he had settled them on a bench at the back of the courtyard, Bodwell straightened up, his back cracking.
"Ouch! I really need to stop getting worked up like that," he muttered.
A figure broke away from the crowd and headed toward them. With a delicate, silent gait, the person drew closer.
"Mr. and Mrs. Johntoms. Miss Helga," called a gentle voice.
Bodwell spun around as Henriette and Helga lifted their chins.
A remarkably beautiful young girl stood before them. A face with fine features. A captivating gaze. Eyes of hypnotic violet from which, nonetheless, a certain innocence emanated. Long golden hair cascaded over the shoulders of her crimson toga.
"Oh, Ealyse," said Henriette.
"Good day," the young girl greeted them. "I would like to offer you my deepest apologies… for…"
"For what?" cut in Helga.
"For my father's behavior," Ealyse revealed.
Her answer left them breathless.
Helga stared at Ealyse with wide eyes. In shock, Lurcard's aunt scrutinized the girl's face, searching for any resemblance to her father, Boltson. But Helga found none, save perhaps for the blondness of her hair.
"I know my father can sometimes lack tact and come across as harsh," the young girl explained. "Please, I beg you, forgive him."
"I… I…" stammered Helga, completely at a loss.
"And I want you to know how impressed I was by your boys' presentation. I thought they were extraordinary!" declared Ealyse.
In her enthusiasm, the young girl took Henriette's and Helga's hands in turn. Then she stopped by the aunt.
"Your nephew is brave, Madam Helga. I saw today who he takes after," she said.
Embarrassed by so many compliments, the aunt no longer knew what to say.
"I… I'm not a 'madam'," she finally blurted out.
"Perhaps. But you have the dignity of one," Ealyse replied.
With that, Ealyse withdrew, leaving the Johntoms couple and Helga dumbfounded.
"By what miracle could Boltson have such a child? So kind?" wondered Henriette.
"Even good-for-nothings are entitled to a chance, Henriette," said Helga in a solemn tone.
"Indeed, Lady Helga. I hope our boys will also have a bit of luck," said Bodwell, his gaze fixed on the auditorium.
The hall was magnificently decorated. The polished wood released its scent amidst shelves laden with stories and memories—imposing books and portraits of men who had left their mark on the history of the P.M.C.A.
But among all those portraits, one painting stood out: that of the Queen Mother, Margaret Dextell-Lord II.
In this prestigious setting, the seven Presidents and the Dean, all in a grim mood, were seated around a table with a map of the world carved into its surface.
The Dean looked each of the Presidents in the eye in turn. They could not manage to hide their displeasure.
"It seems to me that, in view of the seriousness of the situation… we have no other choice, do we?" the Dean inquired of the council. "Are we all in agreement?"
Di Fazzerottini, leaning on the table, pushed his torso forward.
"Yes! Those young boys are simply failed!"
Thus the verdict was delivered.