The Saga of the Gants (Pt. 1)

My name is Alexander Augustino du Bois III, but you may call me Alex just as my parents did, may they rest in peace and enlightenment. I come from a long and illustrious line of du Bois and today I am the last of them, sent on what many call a fool's errand by the long forgotten transcripts of the progenitor of my family, the originally famous du Bois for which I was named, Alexander Francisco du Bois, II, may he also rest in peace and enlightenment beneath the stars of our world.

The du Bois family, as you know, is the most illustrious and magnificent of the Giant Ant Eater clans of Africa, that land far away from these places I have traveled these many years. I miss my Africa dearly but lately I fear I am destined to see it no more. Though I long to be as great as them, I fear that the line of du Bois And Eaters will die with me, alone and unloved in a land where none have heard the tales of my clan's victories and defeats, tragedies and triumphs.

But those tales are of long ago, when we were many, and today we are the one, so I will move on to the tales which I may tell myself. Though of less magnificent adventures as yet, they are surely worth the telling, and sure to grow.

I am searching for Gants.

In the journals of my great, great, many times over great, grandfather Alexander, he tells of many adventures and quests but none are so great as that of the Gants. Told and retold through the years it was by the time of my birth a story long thought to be but a legend. The servants of our manse even rumored that once the great head of a Gant stood proudly on the mantle above our magnificent fire place, but no more. According to their tales (which should be taken with a grain of salt as they come from the lesser classes, choking on their air of kitchen soot and disappointment), the head was taken down by Alexander Francisco IV in a fit of rage as he shouted that he would look at the monster no more. That is was not in fact real and but a sign of the lies of our mutual ancestor Alexander.

The true story is that he took the beast down so as to not face his own failure to live up to his storied name. A name I hope to live up to.

But so the Gants were thought to be legend for many generations and as the family dwindled and our influence waned, as our lands steadily shrank and our business interests atrophied, as we were whittled down over the centuries to a small family in a house much too large for us but still kept in servants and supplies, we barely thought of it until on the day that I, the latest Alexander du Bois of the most famous family to ever come of the Giant East African Ant Eaters, heard of the death of my parents while on vacation.

My father, an avid sailor and sportsman, had taken my mother on one of their many vacations out into the ocean to spend several nights in his impressive trimaran, resplendent in the yellow and black colors of our nations flag, and had been caught unawares by one of our famous typhoons. There was nothing to be found by the local fishermen but scraps of torn yellow wood and matted clumps of gray and black fur washed upon the beach.

Naturally upset and lost of the hope that my parents might yet give way to siblings which would take the burden of my clan off of my lone, solitary shoulders, I raged and screamed and struck out at our servants and the messenger, nearly shooting him dead with my great, great grandfather's favorite shotgun of which I barely knew the operation.

Raging, screaming, I ran through our ancient home, my clawed feet rapping on the well worn mahogany of the floors, the well greased wood normally so pleasant under me suddenly rough and callous. Running and screaming, I soon found myself in the only part of the house in which I felt safe and alone, up high above our manor's fourth floor and into the attic where no one had been for decades. Walking there, in the dust and the grime, I poured my tears upon the ancient furniture and chests which there I found, pounding my fists on a particularly imposing piece of strong wood and iron which, with the wet of my tears wiping its nameplate clear, bore the initials A. F. dB. II.

My emotions having been spent and myself still in a state of unsightly shock I grabbed at the trunk anxiously, knowing the import of the letters on its frontispiece. The lid to the monstrous thing, nearly too heavy to lift, fell open and inside I found the motives for this life I now lead, having chosen it that day for good or ill.

The trunk contained the journals of my clan's progenitor and they were indeed as illustrious as I had imagined. There were many journals there and in the on going weeks and months, as I became ever more reclusive after my parents solemn passing, I became obsessed with them. Obsessed with them and with the idea of living them again, through the spirit of my ancestor. Obsessed with making my family great once more, even if it should die with me on the world's vast sea.

Of all the stories though, of all the tales of daring and discovery, I was obsessed most with a single story. That of what the first famous du Bois called the Gants.

Hideous and awful giant ant like creatures, they were said to be the size of houses and with heads as large as grand sea turtles. Sentient, they occupied a single island in a far flung corner of the world where they built incredible underground cathedrals of glass and beauty. My ancestor had encountered them by accident while landing the ship he captained on a remote island to resupply his boats food and fresh water.

The Gants, catching his shipmates off guard, had eaten ten of them and my ancestor, the great Alexander, had fought them off, single handedly slaying their leader and serving his head on a platter for the ships dinner that night. The same head he would bring the remains of back here, to mount above the fire place in all its hideous glory.

But that is where the true strangeness of the beasts became evident. The ship's crew, eating the delicious brains of the giant insect, found that they absorbed its sentient thoughts and memories. That they absorbed its very intelligence!

On discovering this they led an expedition into the wilds of that remote island and slayed many of the ants, eating them eagerly and basking in the glow of enlightenment and abundance. My ancestor, by the time of the ship's departure, was easily the smartest of creatures in this world, and by far the smartest of Ant Eaters, with his ship's crew a veritable plethora of intellect.

By the time the ship finally returned home to our beloved Africa, it had been built into one of the most magnificent, efficient, and impressive ships to ever sail the seas and covered in the most marvelous of gadgets and wonder. The Great Alexander du Bois, debarking from it, resplendent in the finest clothes ever seen in our land, led his former sailors into the worlds of business, finance, industry, and farming, soon becoming the masters of all.

So began the clan of du Bois. The clan who's name I know carry alone and which I wish to make great again. I will find the Gants and finding them, I will become the even greater than my ancestor. Once more, the world will cower at gnarled feet of a proud African Ant Eater named Alexander du Bois, and it will be me.