When Martin came to the university, the other young men considered him punctilious; his walk was pedantic, his table manners were precise, and not a speck of grime dared to land on his perfectly shined (yet well-worn) derbies. When his flat-mates climbed the dormitory trestle dressed in drag, Martin went to the library, claiming that he needed to refresh his book take-out requests for an upcoming term paper; in fact he struggled to fit in with them because he came from a very different background. His parents were not wealthy like the parents of the others and if they ever found out from just how far down the economic ladder he had come they surely would mock him. As it was, he saw it as a battle, always trying to become a valued member of such an assembly. But one autumn day a strange wind blew onto campus; it took down the statue of the university founder, which was seen as an infrequent and unwelcomed omen (the last time the founder’s visage had been damaged was some 40 years prior during the great hurricane of 1902). The same day, Martin received an anonymous letter in the post: it included a set of directions to a manor home off-campus, the name “Croatoan,” and a short message: “You are in for a treat.”
For today's FFC prompt. Ten words, no rules.