Chapter Three: We Must Be Mistaken

March 17, 2003

Silver City, NM

“Marc? You are Marc, right?” The woman asked him as he stood beside his car and closed the door.

“Yeah. I mean yes, I’m Marc.” He said, caught off guard by the stranger.

“I’m Sheila Sparrow. I’m your dad’s lawyer. I mean I was… Sorry. I mean…” She froze up, as though her rehearsed greetings had fallen apart in her mouth.

“It’s Okay. I spoke with the police this morning. You were my dad’s lawyer?” He spoke calmly.

“Yes! Yes. Do you have a minute? Can we talk? I just spoke with the insurance company and found out. It’s so horrible. I’m so sorry for your loss. I came down here as soon as I heard. I wasn’t sure if you were going to be here. I heard from your Dad that you had a job down south, but I thought that maybe you would stay home today because of…” She seemed to realize something and stopped for a moment.

“Sorry, I get nervous sometimes. I’m not really used to talking to people in person. I don’t mean any disrespect.”

“It’s okay.” He repeated. They stood there for a moment looking at each other in silence.

“Oh! Um. I have some things we need to discuss. Are you okay to talk? It’s alright if you need some time. But the sooner the better.” She quickly blurted out.

Marc thought about the condition of the house. It was still a mess, furniture moved around, and still in the process of his cleaning overhaul.

“My house is kind of a mess right now. I’d invite you in, but there’s no place to even sit right now. And there’s no AC. It’s pretty hot during the day.” He admitted.

“Oh! Um. It’s alright. But if you prefer we can talk in my office. It’s just down in the town. You can follow me in your car if you like.” She said.

“Sure. That’s fine.” He said, then got back into his car and waited for her to pull out.

He followed her to a small strip mall on the North side of town. He parked and saw her standing beside the door of a small office unit.

“It’s not much, most of my clients are truckers so they hardly ever stop by the office.” She said apologetically, then walked into the office. Marc followed her in and found a small single-room office. A desk with a computer and several large file cabinets dominated one side, while the other corner had a couple of small old sofas and a square coffee table.

“It’s just me. I’m a lawyer, but not that kind of lawyer I always tell people.” She giggled at her own apparent joke, but Marc didn’t understand the humor. He smiled to try and be polite and sat down at the table.

Sheila pulled a large folder from her satchel and placed it on the table, then sat opposite Marc.

“Again, I’m terribly sorry for your loss Marc. I knew your Dad for years. I even went to High School with him, different years. He was a few years behind me. Can you believe? I’m surprised we never met. But of course your Dad, he was always on the road. Even I hardly ever saw him. He would just call me once a year or so to handle his affairs and such. He was always such a hard worker. I guess he loved his job. He wasn’t like that in school though. He mostly just…” She froze again.

“Oh! Um. Sorry. I was going on again. Anyway, I am so sorry about your loss. Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah. I’m okay. You know, He was away most of the time. I hardly even knew him.” Marc just wanted to get things settled quickly.

“Yes, I understand. That’s an over-the-road trucker’s life for you.” Shiela tried to put on an empathetic demeanor.

“I want you to know I am here to help you with anything you need. Your Dad, he had everything set up, just in case… He made sure that everything was all taken care of.” She smiled and patted the folder on the table.

“Everything is accounted for and your Dad trusted me to make all the best arrangements. He had robust insurance and the loans on his rig are mostly covered. Are you planning to go up to Salt Lake to…”

“No, not unless I have to.” Marc cut her off.

“That’s fine. I’ll make arrangements to have him moved to a mortuary down here. What about his rig? Do you want to see it? Like I said, it’s mostly paid off. You should have no problem taking it over if you want.” She started to shuffle through the papers.

“No. I don’t want it. If it’s paid off, can I just sell it?”

Shiela checked through some of the papers.

“Oh! Um. Yeah. That should be no problem. I have a broker that can handle the sale. It’s got a fair amount of mileage on it, but it’s still in good shape. I’m sure we can find a buyer pretty quickly. Is it ok if I take care of it for you?” She asked.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Marc nodded.

“Technically I am just the executor of your Dad’s estate. I’m happy to take care of things for you as well if you like, or if you prefer someone else to deal with the business aspects later, that’s no problem either.” She asked with her head cocked to one side.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to deal with any of that. If you could take care of everything I would appreciate it.” He said. relieved that he would not have to deal with all of this.

“Certainly!” She said brightly. “I’ll draw up some contracts and the appropriate documents. Don’t worry. I can take care of everything. Your Dad left everything to me, so I have pretty much all that I need. If you can stop by sometime tomorrow so I can get your signature on a few things you won’t need to worry about anything. Just leave it to me!” She said brightly. Certainly, she would get a good fee for all of this, but Marc didn’t really care.

“Depending on how much the truck sells for, and subtracting the taxes, costs, and loans, you should be in good shape. Your Dad made sure you would be taken care of.”

Marc thought about the times that his father had forgotten to send the rent check. He honestly never expected this level of preparation.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Oh! Um. Well, with the insurance, and his balance in the bank, after taxes you should receive at least two hundred thousand dollars.”

Marc was stunned. He had no concept of how much money that was.

In the other world, due to his efforts and abilities he had managed to amass a large fortune. Despite his adherence to the Path, simply the compensation for his work with the Guild alone had allowed him to accumulate more wealth than he could spend in another hundred years. He made sure that the wealth was divided amongst the descendants of the many people who had helped him through his time in the other world. Grenn and Keri’s children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. Enpii and Mumay were more than comfortable considering the success of his business venture, but he set aside some funds for them as well. He even donated a large sum to supporting orphans in Clearwater in addition to some for the discretionary fund managed by the Guild.

But the Marc of this world had barely enough money to keep the power up each month. To find out that his father had provided so much was as unexpected as it was seemingly out of character.

“Marc? Are you okay?” Sheila asked with a concerned look on her face.

“Yeah. Just. Surprised.”

“I understand. I’m getting that you and your Dad weren’t that close.”

Marc nodded.

“You know, he talked about you a lot. When we talked, he always brought up what you were doing. When you went to college, or got that job. I think it was easy for him to talk to me because it was always about business.”

Marc stared at her. He couldn’t believe his father even knew anything about what was going on in his life. They hadn’t had a substantial conversation in as long as he could remember.

“It’s not uncommon with these drivers. They spend days on end without talking to anyone face to face. It takes a certain type of person to live like that. Maybe those kinds of people aren’t that great in person. But I do know your Dad did care about you. Most of what I have here was set up just for you.” She said, patting the table in front of her.

Marc stared down at the papers, unsure what to say. Then he had an errant thought.

“The money… Is there anyone I need to share it with?” He asked, looking off to the side at a potted plant by the window.

“Anyone else? Who? Oh! Um. No no no. Nothing like that. He wasn’t like that. Unless he has another lawyer out there on the side.” She gave him an exaggerated wink.

Marc went back home and started to go through his Dad’s things as well as his own box of papers to get together everything Sheila said she needed to finalize the insurance and give her power of attorney. Stuff like his passport and birth certificate. His Dad’s room was spartan and organized, so he found the documents he needed almost immediately. There wasn’t much else to go through.

As he sat in the house, he was troubled by how things had gone since he had returned. He still had no idea why he had all his memories from the other world. It would be tempting to just think they were some kind of dream or delusion, but there was so much and in such detail. Sixty years of life and he could remember every second.

But what good was that knowledge? Abilities he couldn’t use, languages that no one on Earth speaks? Magic that doesn’t exist?

Magic was a huge loss. He spent his whole life there learning and developing his skills, finally raising each of the five attributes to Master, eventually unlocking and mastering Primal Magic. Learning artificing and rune-carving. All are now useless in a world with no Mana.

He did have other knowledge as well. Hunting, while most of his experience was against beasts, was hard-earned knowledge that could be used here perhaps. His cooking and cleaning, while he mastered them through magic, had fundamentals that could still be applied without skills. The same with smithing and crafting. If what he remembered was indeed real, then he should be able to use some of those experiences in this world. Similar to how he dealt with Ryan. It was clear to him that he was not the same person from three days ago. Inside him was the soul that had lived an entire lifetime in another world.

Three days ago. When he died on the highway, hit by a truck. Except that never happened.

Three days ago. When his father died after being hit in a hit-and-run, a thousand miles away, at almost the exact time he had been killed.

This is when he would ask Kira for help. For her understanding of the world and all the underlying effects of Mana and Magic.

This is when he would ask Rynan for help. For her guidance and perspective to be able to understand his true feelings and help define his true goals.

He wanted to talk to them all. To feel the support and concern of his adopted father Grenn, or the balance and reality checks Enpii always gave him when he got too full of himself. The unshakable faith that Safan had in him, even the unflappable confidence and positivity of Meservi would be welcome right now.

He sat on the sofa, feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his entire life. He even contemplated calling up Ryan to see if he wanted to meet for a beer later before dismissing that thought.

Where was Mary? If he prayed to God, would that put him in contact with her? Wasn’t she the God of this world?

Considering that made him again question his sanity. If he had learned anything about Gods, it was that was not how they worked.

As he was wallowing, he started to hear noises coming from outside. He went to the window and saw some of his neighbors gathering outside, talking to each other in excited tones.

He stepped outside to find out what was going on when he caught a few words.

“War”

“El Presidente”

“Nine Eleven”

He walked over to a small group of men who worked at the copper mine and asked what happened.

“He was just on TV. Bush. He said we are at war. That Saddam guy. He’s got nukes or something. He was in on the New York attack. They have proof. We are going to blow them up now.”