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Date Posted: 11:38:59 05/16/03 Fri
Author: moondreamer
Subject: NPLH - Chapter 2
In reply to: moondreamer 's message, "No Place Like Home - PG-13" on 09:16:08 05/12/03 Mon

Heheheh, forgot the disclaimer the first go round. (How long has it been?) All theirs. Not mine. Never have been, never will be.

Chapter Two

After the departure of Kenneth Irons the Headmaster turned and looked down at the young boy left so coldly behind. He had seen a lot of leave taking in his time but never one so absolutely unemotional. Even through his mercenary self-absorption he wondered at the reason.

Well, the last names were different. Perhaps the child was a wild oat come home to roost. Something all the best forgotten. There had to be some reason for the apparent lack of familial feeling. Some reason why the hardest heart wasn’t stirred by the very sight of the boy.

For young Nottingham truly was an angelic looking child. He had soft creamy skin, silken dark curls that tumbled about his head despite obvious best efforts to exert some modicum of control over it. A few of the silken strands curled slightly over his eyes. Those eyes…those eyes were…strange. The headmaster could find no other word to describe them.

They seemed endless, dark and liquid, brimming with knowledge far older than that of a nine-year-old boy. Looking down into those eyes the Headmaster felt a tinge of some atavistic fear. It seemed as if all of his innermost secrets were being exposed to the harsh light of day and he was found somehow lacking.

The Headmaster blinked uneasily and then the look in the child’s eyes was gone. The dark eyes cast down to the earth in an unassuming position of obedience. This was more like it. Shaking off his strange moment of introspection he opened the door of his office once again and gestured for the Housemaster to come in.

“Where have you been?” He exclaimed somewhat fretfully. “This is young Nottingham. Be sure he is settled in and all instructions we were left have been followed.”

The Housemaster nodded slowly, his slightly watery eyes shifted from one side to the other and his mouth pursed slightly as he struggled to find the words. Knowing what was about to happen the Headmaster waved him off irritably.

“Go ahead, man. I have better things to do today than listen to you whine once again. You will ensure Mr. Irons’ requests are filled to the letter.”

Turning his back on the Headmaster the boy silently followed the other man without a backward glance. The Headmaster watched uneasily, troubled by the strange aura that seemed to surround the boy. Once free from his presence however, the Headmaster felt the return of his jubilant mood. He rubbed his hands together and motioned for his secretary, a rather thin, bespectacled younger man, shoulders slumped in an ill-fitting wool jacket to come in.

“Time to celebrate, Andy. Time to celebrate.” The Headmaster patted his pocket where the cheque resided. “This day is deserving of a bit of sherry, don’t you think?” He gestured impatiently toward the wooden sideboard. “Go ahead an pour us a glass, you know I hate to drink alone.”

Accepting from his secretary the delicate glass filled with the dark liquid usually saved for special contributors; the Headmaster settled back in his chair with a sigh. He raised his glass in a salute to the portrait above his desk and drained his glass before enthusiastically banging it down on the desk.

“Our fortunes are made, you know. We have just received the first of many cheques from Kenneth Irons.” He chuckled. “The boy is young, we’ll have many good years ahead of us now, Andy. Many good years. As rich as Irons is just think of what he can do for us.”

His secretary took a slower sip off of his own glass. “Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves? It’s only the boy’s first day. I looked at his record. He’s been in three other schools in the last 2 years. We’re his fourth. There has to be a reason behind it.”

“Bah.” The Headmaster waved off Andy’s concerns. “The reason is they were fools. I admit that at first Mr. Irons’ special requests seemed a bit…odd. We discussed those and I admit I had reservations. But now, I must say, now that I see the results I am most impressed.”

He leaned back in the chair once again. He placed his hands firmly on his desk as if he were exerting the gravitational control needed to keep it in place.

“A more Spartan regimen may be just what’s required for several of our more troublesome youths. Just think of the money we would save if we followed those instructions for all our students.”

“It all still seems most irregular.”

“Now, now Andy. When you refer to someone as wealthy as Kenneth Irons the word you use is eccentric. Besides, he did relax on his requirements.”

“Letting the boy wear the school uniform instead of wearing all black is hardly what I would consider relaxing.”

“And the rest of his wishes are hardly unreasonable.” The Headmaster continued, pretending not to hear the words of doubt. He turned and looked out through the old, leaded glass of the window.

“Yes, definitely something to consider. We could revise our mission statement. Bringing the youth of today back to some of the highest standards of past civilizations. Something along those lines.”

He walked over and took the glass of sherry out of his secretary’s hand.

“Do some research, Andy. Ancient Sparta, training the mind and body. You know what I want. The arrival of young Nottingham could signal a new chapter in our school’s history. This could be one of our finest and richest eras.”

Lost in his vision of future splendor he didn’t see Andy walk out shaking his head. Instead he continued, rambling on as he laid out his plans.

“Weed out those who are unsuitable, the chaff. We’ll want the wealthiest parents, seeking solutions to their problems with their children.”

His words were only silenced by the closing of the heavy oaken door as Andy pulled it shut behind him as he left.

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