Beyond South Pole (ON INDEFINITE HIATUS)

Chapter 1: Newton Prescott

Newton Prescott's study smelled like old books and dust. Jacques Moulin looked at the bookshelves, which were the primary focus of the room. Huge bookcases covered all the walls of the study. The cases were filled with thicker books than Jacques cared to read. Jacques thought these books had to be rare and expensive. Was it weird that Jacques was just left alone in the study without Newton Prescott being present? Prescott's butler has said that Mr. Prescott would be there in a minute. Prescott seemed to trust people too easily. Or perhaps he knew no one could get out of the room and the house carrying valuable books. And of course Jacques wouldn't steal anything. The books were the most valuable things in the room. Even though they must've been worth at least something, how could anyone carry many of them? And who could tell which ones were worth the most? He could march out of the house with some random book no one would buy. Everything else in the room was probably inside Prescott's desk. It was locked. Jacques had checked.

The door of the study opened and closed. Jacques turned around to see Newton Prescott. He was a man in his late 60's. His hair and moustache were grey, but her eyes were still young man's eyes. They were sharp and a warm shade of brown, and they looked over Jacques estimating him already. Newton Prescott had neat clothes. He wore a brown tweed jacket with matching pants. The outfit was expensive but also looked comfortable for an old man.

"I'm sorry for being so late," Newton Prescott said. "I wish I could say I was busy. I wasn't. I was reading and didn't realise what time it was."

Jacques laughed a little. "It's alright," he said. "I didn't have to wait that long. Actually, I was admiring your book collection."

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Newton Prescott asked. He walked into the room so he was standing next to Jacques. He, too, was admiring the book collection with a small smile on his face. "I can't believe I'm going to leave all this behind, just because of an..."

Jacques raised his eyebrows. Mr. Prescott's words drifted away and he didn't care to continue. He stared at the books for a while, wistfully. Maybe he was regretting his promises, or thinking about how he gathered all these books. He finally shook his head as if to shake himself awake.

"But never mind that. We haven't been introduced yet," Mr. Prescott said. He shook Jacques' hand. "I'm Newton Prescott, as you might have guessed. And you must be Jacques Moulin, right?"

"That's right," Jacques said.

"That is a French name, isn't it?"

"It is."

"I thought so. I've been to Paris many times."

"I'm actually from Paris."

"Oh, I'm almost jealous. London isn't even close to how amazing Paris is."

Jacques laughed. "You're right about that, mister Prescott."

"From the possible team members, you're actually the only one I don't know personally. Or well... There are some I don't know, but I know their parents or someone who knows them. You know how it is. You're also the only one who wanted to join, and I didn't have to be the one to ask. I didn't have to drag you over here," Mr. Prescott laughed and waved his hand a little. "But that's enough of chitchat, isn't it? We have to get to business, don't we? Come, sit down."

Mr. Prescott walked over to his desk and sat down behind it. The desk was ornate and immediately made Mr. Prescott seem more important than he was. Jacques had to sit down on a chair in front of the desk. Mr. Prescott's black leathery chair was way nicer. It looked like you could spend hours sitting without it getting uncomfortable. Jacques' chair was hard and wobbly, kind of like every chair he had back in school.

"So," Mr. Prescott started, "the expedition."

"Yes," Jacques said. He wondered whether he should ask questions, or if Mr. Prescott was going to tell him everything uninterrupted. "I understand you want us to travel to the South Pole."