The Munificence of the Heavens Is Without Limit

"When the orange moon fills Syevor Pond, you will fill the position you desire." That was the claim. Mr. A, as we shall call him, did not believe in superstition, but he believed very much in filling positions. As a consequence, he informed his secretary and his associates he had decided to take a few days off ("So soon before the chancellorship is decided? He must be confident."), planned his trip, and traveled to the town nearest Syevor Pond, which of course was called Nyaddavar.
Mr. A had his doubts when he crept through the concealing night toward the pond. Where was everybody? Was that not a widespread belief he had heard? The orange moon was full, and as for the brown and green moons, they were probably lucky too. But he was all alone as he divested himself of anything better off dry and walked into the pond.
He waded into the center of the pond, the blue waters turned orange by the looming moon, where he became embarrassed. Who else was there but Mr. B and Mr. C, his rivals for the desired position? The three pretended not to recognize one another while elbowing and shoving for that coveted spot in the center of the moon as it was reflected.
"Ahem," Mr. A said. "Gentlemen, this silliness is beneath us. Above our toes possibly, but otherwise beneath us. This superstition is nothing but, well, superstition. The same future cannot come true for everyone at once. Imagine if there were twenty of us in this pond. Or twenty-one! Hmph." Mr. B and Mr. C agreed, though their elbows had reservations. In any case, the night passed amicably enough despite the obstacles to it, and all three returned from their vacations rested, ready, and biting their nails.
Mr. A got the job. Hurray! So much for orange moons and ponds, he thought until he heard Mr. B had an offer from Nmeleurda, which was looking for a chancellor, and Mr. C from Mden Fdan, which suffered from an urgent need for the same. All three became chancellors just as the superstition said, and all three broke out in hives for five days for doubting it. Because every superstition is always true, even if it that is impossible.
Finis