CH2

Thomas stepped down from the lavish carriage and gazed at the spectacle ahead of him with low enthusiasm. It was a small school but renowned for its prestige and also the wealthy students and nobility that attend. He sighed and walked forward, beside him, two attendants made a move to follow.

"No need," Thomas snapped, "I can walk there myself." They glanced at each other uncertainly, but under his piercing gaze, reluctantly relinquished.

"Good morning Thomas!" Thomas turned to see a boy -whose name he can't quite recall, dressed smartly in the school uniform; a silk, white shirt frilled at the collar and sleeves accompanied with a small, purple, sleeveless jacket, a short yellow tie and beige shorts. His glossy blond hair was slicked back and his pearly white teeth flashed as he gave Thomas a winning smile. Thomas nodded at him and paced towards the tall black gates.

Inside was a pale yellow pathway partnered with a glamorous garden consisting of ornate henges, lush, green bushes and rare flowers, students dressed in similar extravagant uniforms miled about.  Several who spotted him entering similarly bid him 'Good Morning' and 'How are you'. Only for a few did Thomas bother to return the greeting.

Inside the school house, chairs and tables were arranged in orderly rows, children stood around the desks conversing and laughing. 
"My Father purchased two acres of land near the Netherhills just yesterday," spoke a girl with braids proudly, " he says that it will be a fantastic addition to our cotton plantations and he is going to the market today to pick slaves!"

"How bold! Is it not costly in the Netherhills?" An amber haired boy replied, attempting to exhibit his knowledge.

The girl narrowed her eyes. "My father is the owner of the Scott industries, this little money is nothing to him." She sniffed and spotted Thomas at the door. Her eyes widened and for a few seconds, seemed unable to speak before mustering a large smile on her face and exclaiming, "Why good morning Thomas, how are you?"

Upon her words, others looked up and similar greetings filled the room. 
"I'm doing well thank you." He replied without emotion and walked towards his desk. Children separated and made way for him before forming a small crowd as he sat.
"How goes your studies?"
"Is your father doing well?"
The voices were bright but there was a shred of nervousness beneath all the cheer.

The teacher walked in, his long white teacher's cape sweeping the floor as he walked. The children silenced and dispersed, seating at their individual desks.

"Are we all settled now?" He spoke in a high, nasally voice, and gazed around with a patronizing smile before saying "Well let's get started then."

During morning tea Thomas realized that he had not brought his bag, and had left it behind with his attendants who were holding it. It was not a concern as he knew that someone would surely be sent over to give it to him. He glanced around the room, most of the other children were out in the school yard, having their invitations to join them rejected by him. In the corner he spotted a skinny dark-haired boy who similarly did not have a bag.

He was not dressed in the standard uniform but in a long tattered grey shirt that showed various adjustments, most likely in an attempt to make it more visually acceptable. The boy nervously sat fidgeting by table, stealing quick glances at Thomas every once in a while.

Remembering Nimblin's words, Thomas decided to make an effort to socialize and walked towards the boys table. The boy looked startled.

"H-h-hello Thomas" he stuttered, his large brown eyes darting back and forth, as if unsure of how to meet his eye.

Up close, the boy seemed abnormally thin, his bones jutting out from under his dark skin. He was probably the son of a slave, somehow enrolled in the school from his parents' saved up earnings. Even then, it was a rarity for a person of his status to be seen at the school.

"Er, did you enjoy the 'Blue Urn' novel? The deer part was funny... haha..." The boy's trembled slightly but he seemed desperate to make a conversation.

"You did not bring your bag?" Thomas said.

The boy flushed."I don't really have one..."

" What about your lunch then?" Thomas asked, puzzled. The boy opened and then closed his mouth, appearing uncomfortable.

"Um... its... er," he sweated, "I just make do..."

Thomas considered this for a moment.

"What is your name?"

"T-Tanis"

"Tanis, would you like to be my friend?"

Tanis's eyes widened in shock."E-excuse me?"

"You shall be my friend, I believe there are no objections?" Thomas repeated.

"Yes! No, I mean, I would love to be friends!" He gushed, brown  eyes alight with excitement, "um.. so would you like to play marbles with me?" It was clear that this was rehearsed, in case friendhip would ever happen between them. Thomas did not have much interest in the game but agreed.

Later, one of the attendents arrived with his bag, he came with a slight limp. As Thomas took it, he noticed the attendent looked slightly pale.

The following day Tanis met Thomas wearing a brand new set of the school's prestigious uniform, a leather bag and various boxes of the currently most popular games. He seemed to bounce as he walked and his eyes shone with excitement when he talked to Thomas, describing all the exciting objects he found in a mysterious 'treasure chest' he miraculously discovered in the bottom of his house. Thomas smiled and laughed. Tanis looked at him in surprise.

"That's the first time I've seen you laugh." Tanis said, staring with a mystified expression, then on seeing Thomas's awkward expression he quickly added, "not that it's bad or anything, I mean you probably laugh a lot- I mean, um, its just that you...Is -is that smoke?"

Thomas who had not being particularly paying attention turned to look at him.

"Pardon?"

"That, over there." Tanis pointed to the direction of the front gates. Indeed, thick, dark voluminous smoke was rising steadily in the distance, dissipating into the blue sky.

Thomas frowned. "How quaint, it is not yet the fire season."

"Young sire! Young sire!" A slave, he recognized as one of his personal attendants, rushed towards them, his face pale and twisted in a frenzied horror. He stopped in front of them gasping for breath. "Young sire, the-"

"What is it, compose yourself, slave." Thomas grimaced at the attendants unsightly presentation.

"The house!" He cried in distress, " It's under a siege!"