"So, Mr. Foster, what makes you eligible to become a professor in a university as prestigious as this?"
"Eh, you are my grandfather, though."
"Cut!" The elderly man stood up, letting out a sigh, lecturing the young man in front.
"Caius, you can't just say that in an official interview." He groaned, "I would need to send this interview to the Dean and the Department Chair."
"But you are the Provost of the Imperial University," Caius complained, "You can always swat bugs like those."
Ahem—
A third voice interrupted them in the middle of their conversation.
It was the assistant to the Provost, the one holding the camera.
"Master Caius, please refrain from bad-mouthing our honorable staff in the University's premises."
"Listen to Phillip, and behave." Sebastian rebuked him, "Now, go at it again."
"So, Mr. Foster, what makes you eligible to become a professor in a university as prestigious as this?"
Caius didn't answer immediately. His gaze flickered towards the camera, as if addressing an invisible audience behind the lens.
"I specialize in Applied Combat Theory." This time, the earlier flippancy from his voice was gone, replaced by something far more composed. "Specifically, failure analysis in high-risk engagements."
Sebastian leaned back, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Unusual focus," He said, "Most people in your department prefer studying victories, rather than failures."
"Victories are inconsistent," Caius replied calmly, "They depend on variables that are rarely reliable."
"Failures, however, are remarkably predictable."
The room went silent for a moment.
"And," Sebastian's voice was a lot quieter and formal now, "what makes you certain of that?"
Caius' gaze never faltered, and neither did his posture.
"Because most combat doctrines assume some sort of intervention."
"Go on."
"Timely reinforcements, hidden variables, and external factors that can tip the balance at any moment." He spoke confidently, as if reciting something he had mulled over for years. "Remove those, and the outcome of any encounter becomes significantly easier to predict."
Phillip's brows twitched behind the camera. But Sebastian was still.
"Is that an argument against adaptability?" He asked.
"Not at all," Caius was smooth with the counter, "It's an argument against reliance."
"If a student survives because of someone or something else, they don't learn survival, but rather expectations."
Sebastian steepled his fingers, "So, what do you intend to teach the students, exactly?"
"How to live," He answered, "when no one comes to save you."
Silence dawned upon the room again.
Phillip and Sebastian briefly glanced at each other, and Sebastian wrote something on his paper.
"You are not even 30 yet," he asked. "What do you know about expectations and survival?"
"I know enough to become a Phase 5 Variant at 27 years old, and not only that," He answered with absolute confidence, "I was also a part of the Lysander Kingdom's civil war, and my contributions even earned me the Medal of Valor."
For the first time in the interview, Sebastian twitched physically.
"Bold claims," He said, "Especially from someone applying for an assistant professorship."
Caius let out a faint smile, "Modest claims tend to produce modest and safer results."
…
From there on, the interview continued for a while, as Sebastian asked him every question he was supposed to, and some more.
Including every prior experience and research papers he had ever published.
After all, it wasn't some random university he was applying to.
He needed to be the best of the best for this.
And luckily for his grandfather, Caius was more than qualified for this.
Especially due to his research in "The Predictability of Catastrophic Failure in Asymmetric Engagement" and "Intervention Bias in Combat Doctrine."
These two research papers were hot topics in the recent academic arena.
…
After the interview concluded, Sebastian maintained his serious demeanor as he ordered, "Phillip, can you leave us alone for a moment?"
"As you wish, sir," He said, bowing his head before leaving the family duo alone.
"You were missing for 4 years, appeared yesterday out of nowhere, wanting to be a professor here, and now you are telling me that you were in Lysander Kingdom, fighting their civil war?"
Sebastian's tone was grave, his eyes dark and dull.
"I didn't exactly have a choice in where I ended up, grandpa," Caius said, with no sign of trauma on his face, "When I opened my eyes, I was in the war, all alone, trying to fend for myself."
"But you weren't even a Phase 10 Variant back then, how did-"
"Let's leave that for later, grandpa," he said, standing up, the tone of his voice shifting, "I am hungry and tired, and … hungry."
It was very clear that he didn't want to talk about it right now.
And Sebastian understood the situation enough not to push it any further.
"Here is my spare card," He handed out a sleek, black metallic card to him, "Go, and relax for a bit while I discuss your professorship with the Dean and Department Chair."
Caius' face lit up as he leaned forward to grab it, but he felt a slight resistance to it.
"Before you leave, at least tell me honestly, why do you want to become a professor of all things?"
A faint grin crept up Caius' face as he sat at the table, and looked dead in his eyes, uttering his sentence.
"Because I need to become the unpredictable intervention in someone's life."