Job interviews.
It has been a while since I have had the pleasure of bullshitting my way into a job. Not that I have never been qualified for the previous positions I applied for before—back on Earth One, at least. Trying to understand corporate people has never been my strong suit, however. Nevertheless, that does not mean I do not know what buttons to press.
"Because I am tenacious, talented, and most importantly, qualified."
I puffed my chest slightly, trying to sell myself through confidence. My words not being unfounded certainly helped my act to a degree.
"The letter from Mr. Pens should have also given you an idea as to who I am and how I operate. I dare say that my three years under his tutelage have more than made up for my lacking academic years as an aspiring knight. If you were to give me this one chance, I can assure you, I will not be a disappointment."
I added.
The man in front of me, the dean of Phalanx, Alexos "Torgan" Gahhan, must have found something amusing in what I had said. His smile did not look demeaning to me in the least. Pure amusement was the vibe I was getting from him.
"This is not an interview for a job, young man."
Said Sir Gahhan as he stood up from his table. With his frame now completely towering over mine, he gestured to the table on the side of the room.
Now sitting face-to-face with a mountain of a man, the table before us—which was relatively medium-sized for me—looked dwarfed in comparison to the dean. Truly, how can one's focus not be entirely on the size of this man whenever one is with him? And, of course, even his chairs were huge.
"If I am being truthful with you, Mister Zorias, the favor that my student, William, is asking is not a simple one. You are entering at practically the end of the year. If you are admitted and are found to be lacking, well, let us just say that a lot of people will not be happy.
Understand that while this is not unprecedented, it is also very unusual and has been historically reserved only for the rarest of cases and the most extraordinary of individuals."
He looked at me intently before pushing forward the paper that was on the table.
"I want you to understand that once you sign this, there will be no turning back. Not even if you decide to leave knighthood in its entirety. Being the subject of ridicule will only be the lightest of repercussions."
I pondered whether I should at least pretend to contemplate his words, not wanting to appear dismissive—and worst of all, disrespectful.
Coincidentally, the short pause acted as a ruse in and of itself.
I flipped through the pages, skimming the contents quickly, and then finally signed the contract.
"I am sure I at least qualify for either one of the two."
I quipped, giving him a refreshing smile—or at least that is how Anna would describe it.
"Which one?"
"I suppose we will both figure that out in the near future."
"For your sake, I would hope so."
With our hands met, the meeting ended.
-0-
"He did not make it too difficult, did he? He can be quite the quirky man depending on the mood."
The voice from the phone on loudspeaker sat against the window of the bullet train, overlooking the core of Phalanx's central district. Specifically, the statue of "The First Knight" in the middle of the city park.
A man clad in classical knight armor, covered in robes, with his right hand holding a sword raised high as if poised to lead a charge. The words "To Eternity" were engraved at the bottom metal placard.
Once upon a time, this figure rallied the scattered forces of humanity in a desperate bid for survival after the Breaking of the World. With his name unknown, he has become nothing more than an idea in the current age. But some scholars claim The First Knight to be more than just a legend.
"Rell? Are you there?"
"No, the meeting went well. You really had me worried for nothing, William."
A sigh came from the other side.
"You do not know him as well as I do, trust me. His portrayal in the media does a lot of heavy lifting when it comes to his overall public image, so there are a lot of things that are glossed over when it comes to him. You do not really know a man until you have shared a drink with him, as the saying goes. There was this one time when—"
"Agh! Will…ia… Will! I go…ta…o now. The line… is starting to… cut!"
"Cut? What do you mean?"
"Bzzzt… bzzzt…"
Not the most convincing lie, considering phones use magic to transmit. And mana does not work like signals do on Earth One as it does here on Earth Two. Regardless, I will never willingly subject myself to another round of William's story time. They just tend to drag on for way too long.
With William finally out of my hair and the cabin I was in being sequestered at the back of the coach, the thoughts that had been muted in my mind for the past two weeks started flooding back in.
It had been a little more than three and a half years since I awoke at Saint's Hospital, but the reality still had not fully settled in. It was a world not too different from mine at first glance. From the clothes that ordinary people wore, to the concrete buildings erected to varying heights, even to the strip malls that people often frequented, I could see myself integrating my previous life on Earth One here. It would almost be a one-to-one replication.
Almost.
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The numerous billboards, posters, and any signage worth putting up all centered around the existence of the knighthood and its nemesis. Humanity's nemesis, actually. Or any other moving thing, now that I am thinking about it.
**ANNOUNCEMENT: WE ARE NOW AT ATLAND STATION**
I picked up my phone and walked listlessly out of the train, my thoughts embroiled in the surreal reality of living in my son's book—Arcus, The God Who Wrote Existence. The creator of this world, this reality. Worshipped by all the other races other than man.
The common religions here on Earth Two had long gone and disappeared. The Breaking of the World had completely shattered any and all notion of there being a divine creator and Earth being His sole creation. They probably tried to explain their way around that back when it all started. In the end, the few that were left did not have the luxury to believe in such things.
With nothing to cling to and with the convenient timing of the rise of mana adapters, the people had a different paragon to adore and worship: the idealism of the First Knight standing atop all the others. Or at least, that was what was written in the historical books of the early age of the Breaking.
Anyway, while it is inspiring to know I fathered a god, it is also both vexing and nerve-wracking. Vexing in a way that, if I had known I would be transported into one of my prodigious son's books, I would have read them all THOROUGHLY. Nerve-wracking in that I know what is about to come, and it is not good, to say the least.
Darkest before dawn my ass. Goddamn it, Andres! Why did you have to show off to your kid? You could have just said something simple like, "It is alright," or, "Everything is going to be fine," like any father would to his son. Now I am paying the price.
Not realizing it, I found myself at the top of a cobblestone staircase, standing in front of my very own single detached home in the city. Thinking of the person I was about to meet once again after a long while, I calmed myself.
Upon opening the door and entering, the sweet smell of food being cooked and the sound of metal utensils clanging about in the kitchen brought forth the sense of peace of being home. Making my way to the kitchen, there stood a juvenile male wearing a frilly yellow apron over his regular clothes: the black-haired youth who would one day save this world—Rowan.