Contains language. Sequel to Consider the Apocalypse as A Thing Unwanted and An Alternative Method For Gaining A Girlfriend
Slowly I sat down before the board of three bearded old men and one enterprising young woman. Through a collection of eyeglasses, eyelashes and upraised drinking vessels they stared and watched me carefully, no words coming from their lips. Two were rigid in concern, one was relaxed with a smile playing on his face, and the last looked emotionally empty. With my face set to a state of simplicity and a determination to begin upon good terms with these people I kept my back straight and a readiness in my heart.

“Greetings,” I addressed the four of them who leant in various manners upon the table. “I would like to begin by stating that I understand the unusual arrangements for this position, and I am in no way wishing that you guarantee myself an occupation based on whom may have made these.”

There was silence in the room. I arched my eyebrow slightly as I curled my fingers around the folio case before me, that housed the abstracts of my finer essays and journal articles. Slowly my heart thudded, my introduction set. The other occupants - my interviewers and fellow creatures of keen study, all high elves, remained still.

Patiently, I waited.

One man eventually moved, hand rising to remove his small round glasses, revealing bright blue eyes.

“Mr De’Erebus,” he said slowly. I gave him my full focus. “I cannot lie when I say I do not of what you are referring to.” A small smile lifted his features. “And how it relieves me.”

“We would have given you a fair interview nevertheless,” spoke the one who had been smiling from the outset. Immediately I marked him as someone who potentially regarded Morningstar in a more positive light than I did, possibly even worked for him. In my new life here I would need to figure out who was placed here to spy on me, and who would be my ally.

In regards to the latter the one who had spoken first was my current first choice.

“There is potential for an occupation for yourself,” the first one spoke. “From what we have been told, your requirements are for a part time opportunity. Is that correct?”

Pausing for a moment I sighed internally, before nodding. It was not what I desired it to be, but it was what was required. “Yes. There are … family matters I must attend to at times. Often they are unavoidable and spare me very little time to prepare.”

The man who I had noted to be a 'fan’ of Morningstar raised himself straighter whilst the others remained as they were.

My main interviewer continued. “Those matters can be taken into consideration. One of our key politics lecturers is himself called to court at unavoidable times so I am sure we can make arrangements.” He took a moment to glance down at a piece of paper before him. “You have worked in the University of Akashima and … a short stay in Alerar?”

“Very short,” I nodded, remembering where I was, and that insulting drow was a good idea here. “The environment did not suit me.”

“Nor does it many of us,” the man smiled at me. He glanced to his colleagues, then back to me. “It is standard practise for all of our staff, whether research fellows or advanced students, to teach to some degree, no matter what the situation. Madam Hera here is our main lecturer within pre-history, but is open to specialist input. Would teaching be something you could do?”

“My last two occupations had primarily been of an teaching aspect,” I replied, “thus I can say I have experience in such, and would be more than willing to partake in such.”

The man nodded, and the female seemed to relax from her tense position. She now leant forwards, “what are your current areas of personal research?”

I answered without hesitation. The truth was that I was not a tiefling, as my appearance suggested, but rather a primordial. It was a term coined by us who had come right out of the void we called Khaos at the beginning of time and were created to serve the Old Gods. Some of us did not like the idea of being made to serve, like my brother Morningstar, who had recently had a point chant for controlling my life. The fact I had lived through history had made me an expert in it.

“Primarily the earlier worship of the Thayne Jomil, and more recently the differences between the facts and legends of the Great Calamity.” I sat up a little. “The first is a personal interest, the other is … based in a wider context.”

She was nodding, however when I first spoke. And she gestured to my folio. “Do you have your work in there?”

Lifting it up I held it out to her. “Extracts of the majority of my papers from when I began teaching twenty years ago.”

Madam Hera took it with some excitement as the original interviewer took back over, his round glasses now back on his face. “And what were you doing before those years?”

“I worked in transport,” I said, the old explanation that was both lie and truth coming from between my lips. In fact I had been an indentured servant to the King Of Death, who had forced me to be the Ferryman of the souls he ruled over for some long millennia, during which time I had lost much of my power. “Which though sounds disconnected from prehistory did involve a great amount of work with some of the oldest ships and boats.”

“A tiefling in shipping,” grunted the one who had not spoken yet. “It is not the worst we have employed.”

“Varsil,” Madam Hera hissed.

I made no reaction, only clasped my hands and watched as she began to flick through my folio.