Pangothean Legends: Chapters 11 and 12

Chapter Eleven

The Benevolent One

Falroth spent most of the two-day trip back to Jeweland in restful silence. He often sat upon the stern of the ship. He enjoyed the feeling of the wind in his face. It was quite unlike the hot, dry wind that blew in the Sand. It was cool and moist, with a pungent, salty smell.

He never tired of watching the waves dance and sparkle. Though never at rest, their tumult was like a soothing melody.

When they reached port, he and Mersel shared a fond parting handshake.

“Listen,”said Mersel. “Be careful. You saw what happened in the Sanctum. Manders is up to something devious here, and Goldale is the target. It was never about Telmas. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I do now,” said Falroth, with a forced smile.

“And remember, there was quite a gaggle of factors playing with your mental state back there at Telmas. For whatever reason, I think it had an enhancing effect on your power. If you and Frost ever cross paths again, I wouldn’t count on being able to overpower her like that a second time.”

“Got it.”

“Now, I don’t know what you’re planning, but I know what I’ve got to do. I’ve run afoul of a Noble. I’m rounding up my family and getting them somewhere safe. I’d recommend you don’t stay put too long either.”

“Don’t worry about me. Oh, I almost forgot.” Falroth reached into his pocket and produced the Ruby he received from Frost. “Here. I bet you could use this about now.”

“Blimey, Falroth! Are you sure you want to give this to me?”

“Positive. It means as little to me as it did to Frost.”

“Gee Falroth... I don’t know what to say. This is more money than I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Just promise me you’ll spend the lot of it straightaway.”

“Why?”

“Trust me. Suffice it to say you’ll be glad you did.”

“Sure, sure. Well... farewell Falroth. And good luck.”



Wasting no time, Falroth headed straight into town and began inquiring about Nobles. He discovered that they all had tittles (Manders had been known as Manders the Shrewd). First he heard about Zanbark the Dominating, whose fortune was reputedly quite impressive. Falroth wasn’t too keen on meeting him though. According to the stories, he was so tall and had such an impressive voice that he could reduce the most eloquent speaker to inarticulate muttering. And it just got worse after that. There was Tollen the Formidable, rumored to be large and unnerving. Then there was Scalvor the Cross and Valdoth the Cruel. These two were said to distinctly resemble vermin, both in appearance and smell. Falroth was about to break down and contact Muldos the Extravagant (his negative qualities seemed the least overt) when finally he heard the owner of a Philocaffe mention Milani the Benevolent.

“Benevolent, you say?” said Falroth.

“‘at’s right,” said the jolly older man, as he continued to polish the shimmering marble surface of his counter. “You sure you don’t want a drink, lad? ‘S never too early in the day for a draught o’Philocack. I take a little in the mornin’, meself. ‘Elps keep the mind sharp. That way I can work out the finer technical bits o’keepin’ the place runnin’ while I tend to customers.”

“No thanks,” said Falroth. “I think I’ve just had about enough of the stuff for a lifetime.”

“‘S that so? Well, a’right then.”

“So why do they call her Milani the Benevolent?”

“Ah, well, some say it’s ‘cause o’ her sphere. All o’ the Noble’s’ve got a sphere, ya’ know. Kin’ o’ an unspoken division o’ labor, see. Valdoth runs the prisons, Scalvor handles law enforcement, Tollen ‘eads up the lumber an’ housing industries. That kin’ o’ thing. Bu’ Milani’s stuff, people like. City beautification, an’ charitable organizations an’ such. Think las’ I ‘eard she was wantin’ to set up an institution for public education. So people say it’s jus’ her sphere what’s makin’ her look good, but she’s the youngest Noble, see. Kin’o’ came out o’ no where, really. Was only jus’ recognized as a Noble last year. An’ truth be told, before she came aroun’, there wasn’ a whole lotta what she’s doin’ goin’ on.”

“So she’s kind of like an anti-Noble?”

“Bwahaha!” laughed the man, heartily. “Naw, I wouldn’ put it quite like that. Naw, see, all o’ the Nobles, they all do things to ‘elp out society. Bu’ they’ve got their reasons, ya know? The better the country thrives, the better their quality o’ life. I suppose Milani jus’ wan’ed to be liked, so she chose a more... glamorous sphere. Can’ fault ‘er for it, though. The lass does some good, tha’s for cert’n.”

“Sounds like my best bet then. Where can I meet her?”

“Meet‘er? What you wanna meet ‘er for?”

“I’ve got business with her.”

“Not likely! Look, I don’ think she’ll even see you. Nobles are very busy people an’ very impatient at that.”

“I have a suspicion she’ll think it worth her time,” said Falroth, fingering the opal necklace in his pocket.

“Well she’s got a residence jus’ up the road from ‘ere a ways. Quaint little place. ‘S practically a shack, for a Noble, really.”



Falroth had never seen such a big house as the one that belonged to Milani the Benevolent. It was built atop a lush, green hillside. It had walls of white, and a tasteful range of tans, with blue trim. It looked as though its builder had repeatedly changed their mind about how many floors it ought to have and exactly how they should be stacked upon each other.

Falroth headed up the long gravel walkway leading to the front door. Along the way, he admired the manicured lawn, the tall, decorative hedges, and the many detailed sculptures lining the path.

He gave the massive birch double-doors a good solid rap. They flew open almost at once. A wide-eyed blonde girl looked up at him. “Ah... I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. “Wha..?”

“I’m here to see Milani the Benevolent.”

“I... you don’t have an appointment?”

“No. But I thought Milani might be interested in this.” Falroth dangled Manders’ necklace out in front of him. It had a gold chain with a large, solitary opal hanging from it. The gem had a light pinkish tint and was in the shape of an upside-down tear drop.

“Where did you get that?” gasped the girl, her eyes growing wider still.

“That’s not important, is it?” said Falroth. “I was just hoping to see how much I could get for it.”

“How much you could... Oh dear... One moment please.”

The girl left in a hurry, apparently too panicked to realize she hadn’t bothered to shut the door. Falroth could soon hear her talking with a woman in a nearby room.

“Madam...”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Salia. You can just call me Milani.”

“R-right, um, sorry ma-Milani. Er, there’s someone at the door for you.”

“At the door? Well that’s odd. My next appointment isn’t for another hour. Perhaps there was a miscommunication regarding the time of the appointment?”

“No ma’am. He says he didn’t have one. But he’s... well he’s got an Opal.”

“You’re saying another Noble’s come to see me? Goodness, why didn’t you say so in the first place!”

“Er, no, I don’t think he’s a Noble, ma’am.”

“Well I don’t understand. Either he’s a Noble, or he hasn’t got an Opal.”

“But he does have one. That’s what I’m trying to say. He...”

Salia stepped back into view, followed by Milani.

Milani had long flowing black hair. Upon her head was a silver tiara set with pearls. It had a long, white, silken cloth attached to the back of it, looking like a cross between a cape and a wedding veil.

She stopped in her tracks the moment she laid eyes on Falroth. Presumably, this was due to his unusual hair color. She quickly regained composure, and approached him.

“Come in, sir!” she said. “Please, come in. I’ll show you to my Sitting Room. Salia, please send word to Raphio that I will be unable to meet with him at our agreed upon time.”

“O-oh... yes, ma’am. I will. Right away.”

After Milani had lead him out of the spacious entrance hall and into a tight hallway, the house began to look quite different. They passed many cozy rooms with sparse layouts of fine, yet simple, furniture. This stood in stark contrast to the exterior of the house, which had given the impression that the whole place was made of large, sumptuous rooms.

Once they reached their destination, Milani gestured for him to take a seat. There were two tall green armchairs on opposite sides of a short ebony table. Next to them was a lit stone fireplace. Milani walked to the corner, where she had several ceramic mugs sitting on a grate, above a pile of burning coals. “Would you like a cup?” she asked Falroth. “It’s not Philocack,” she added, when he hesitated to answer. “I don’t understand the stuff either. It gives you all those phenomenal, cosmic ideas, which always prove ultimately useless. A waste of time and money, I say. No, this is a little invention of mine. I like to experiment, you see. When I discovered what made Philocack so pointless, I sought to create the same effect without the drawbacks. I may not have succeeded, exactly, but it is a mental stimulant. Though it does tend to reduce the attention-span. Particularly annoying for a restless spirit such as myself. You really ought to try it though. It’s quite marvelous.”

She sat down and reached across the table to hand him his cup. Falroth was bombarded with an eyeful of cleavage. Her breasts were practically bursting out the front of her low-cut, blue and orange gown. They were quite sensuous, but oddly Falroth was filled with a powerful revulsion at the sight of them.

“Are you going to take it, or what?” she said, with a laugh and a warming smile.

Falroth took the cup. He stared at the steaming brown liquid that swirled around inside it.

He had no idea what was in this stuff. It didn’t look appetizing. He had just met this woman. He had already been poisoned this week. By someone he thought he trusted, no less.

And yet...

“It’s good!” Falroth said, after drinking deeply from the mug.

Milani’s face was flush with pleasure at his words. “I call it ‘coffee’,”she said. “I hope to establish a lively market for it.”

“Mmm!” muttered Falroth, still gulping down the last of the drink. “That reminds me. I wanted to talk about this necklace.”

“Oh yes. Right. Business. Well, I’d very much like to know. How did you come by it?”

Falroth did not answer her question. The coffee in her mug, which she held tightly between her palms, was rapidly coming to a boil. She had not seemed to notice.

Practically leaping across the table, Falroth put his hands on her cheeks. He peered deep into her eyes. He could see now that they retained a faint hue of their original red, behind their brown veneer. “Ember?” he whispered, in disbelief.

“Oh Falroth,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. “How I’ve missed you.”

Chapter Twelve

The Lucky Break

Falroth simply could not banish the slack-jawed look of wonder that had been on his face for the last thirty seconds.

How could his sister be alive? How could she be here? Here, in this house, surrounded by all this beauty and opulence? She wasn’t just alive and healthy, she was successful, and by all appearances, happy!

It was too much to take in. Too much of a gift to accept all at once.

His head felt ready to explode with a grateful joy he’d never so much as tasted.

Still, the only words that escaped his lips were “Why do you look so different?”

Ember glanced around at her arms and shoulders.

Not only were her hair and eyes different than the sister Falroth remembered, so was her skin. It wasn’t quite as pale as Frost’s, but it was nowhere near the golden-brown it once had been.

“Well it’s not all that difficult to manage really,” said Ember. “The hair was the easiest. See, I couldn’t even get a job with clown hair like I had. They’ve got a real strange obsession here with having a properappearance. So I got it dyed. That’s where you soak it in a vat of this revolting, smelly concoction. As for my skin, it actually starts to lighten up on its own when you don’t get much sunlight, funny enough. But I couldn’t get taken seriously as a trader without being fair skinned, as they say around here, so I bought all sorts of lotions and went on a certain diet and after a while it took on the right tone. The eyes were the trickiest bit. A lot of trial and error. Finally I figured out a formula for eye drops, made from a curious selection of roots and herbs and toad slime, if you’ll believe that. Took me ages to work out the right proportions. That’s why I only got my Opal last year. You really have to look just right in order to be a Noble. Speaking of which, these...” she gestured vaguely toward her bosom, “...are probably bothering you, aren’t they? I mean you really can’t appreciate them properly, being my brother, so I bet they’re just driving you batty. They almost disqualified me, you know. They’re gorgeous, of course, but the women here, they’re like sticks, Falroth! It’s really awful.” She arose from her chair. “I suppose I don’t have to wear this get-up anymore. Now that I know you’re not going to go blab to your friends about how silly I look. Would you excuse me while I change?”

Falroth nodded, and she left the room. When she returned she was wearing a thick wool sweater. It was the same shade of crimson that her hair used to be.

“I had Salia cancel all my appointments for the day,” she said. “After all, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do, haven’t we?”

“No kidding,” said Falroth, more curtly than he’d meant.

“Well I don’t think I need to tell you why I left. It was a nightmare for me, that place. Too many fences.”

“You left so suddenly...” said Falroth, with sullen, downcast eyes, “and you never said goodbye.”

“Oh Falroth.” Fresh tears graced her wide cheeks. “I knew you cared for me. You were my best friend. I always hated leaving you. But I knew you would never agree to come with me.”

“What do you mean? I hated that place a much as you!”

“You hated your place. In our world, I mean. But you still had hope.”

“Hope...” spoke Falroth, as though it were beyond imagination. “Hope of what?”

“Of improving your standing. Of climbing the social ladder. Of taking the place of our brother. Until you were cured of all hope, you would never give up. But you should have known you would never be like him.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too soft.”

Falroth scoffed.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing!”

Falroth crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and averted his gaze.

“Ugh!” grunted Ember. “The men of our world always did seem to think being soft was some kind of weakness. Maybe you’re too fresh out of the Wasteland to realize it, but there’s more to strength than being hard and shunning your softer side.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Falroth. “You’re a woman. What do you know about strength?”

“Falroth,” said Ember, her expression indignant. “How do you think I got to be the first female Noble ever?”

“I don’t know. How did you?”

“Oh,” said Ember, apparently caught off-guard. “Well it is quite a tale. Maybe you’d like to have another cup of coffee while I explain?”

Falroth shook his head. “Just explain,” he said.

“Fine! So, I went into the Forbidden Wasteland... and by the way it’s quite lucky I was still naive enough to think I might survive it, or that there was anything beyond it at all. Anyway, when I got there I met the Sand God, only he wasn’t a god at all. He was a man called...”

“Ancelin,” Falroth finished for her, speaking through gritted teeth. “I met him too. That foul little fraud, he told me he’d never met you!”

“Heh,” laughed Ember. “Well it’s nice to know at least our god keeps his word, even if he is a fraud. I made him promise not to tell anyone he’d seen me there. Don’t ask me why. I was young and stupid and overly paranoid.

“Did he also tell you about Laurelianna?”

“Who?” said Falroth. “Oh! Right. Her. Yes. He told me to tell her ‘hi’ for him.”

Ember giggled mousily. “You know I fully intended to do as I was told and go see her. Really I did. It’s just, when I got here I started hearing all these wonderful stories about Traders and how they got to travel all over and meet all kinds of people and I... well I got a bit sidetracked.

“You know about Traders, don’t you? About money?”

Falroth released a quiet growl at the word. “Yes, I know about money,” he said.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

In lieu of answering, Falroth peered around at the room’s expensive furnishings.

Ember smiled. “You wonder how I can say that, living in such luxury? I told you I’ve got to keep up appearances, didn’t I? A certain amount of frivolity is expected of a Noble.

“I had no idea it would make me rich, you know. This life. I became a Trader for the same reason I do anything. But as it turns out, I’m marvelous at it. No reason not to rise as high as I can. And when I hit the ceiling, I’ll burn it down and shoot for the stars!

“Plus, money itself isn’t evil. It can’t be. There’s no life in it. It’s just a tool, like anything else. But the love of money, Falroth, it’s a sickness! It’s a sickness that’s spread into every far corner of this country and turns its citizens’ hearts to stone.”

“That’s actually why I came here,” said Falroth. “I’m going to upset the balance. Putting the people with the most money in charge is insane.”

“What, you mean it’s worse than putting the people with the red hair in charge?” she said, half-grinning.

“We don’t just have red hair!” said Falroth. His voice took on a zealous tone. “We control heat. Heat is energy. It preserves life, and deals death. Who better to lead than those who govern this power?”

Ember’s large, milky eyes grew sad and she adopted a somber expression. “ I see you haven’t yet been broken of father’s dogma. It’s understandable. After all, he scarcely spoke if not to preach it, and you hoped one day to take up his mantle.

“At least you learned enough sense from mother to realize the madness of this country. But by Argil! How were you going to upset the balance by bringing me a stolen artifact?”

Falroth frowned. “How did you know it was stolen?”

“Because you can’t have gotten it any other way! Falroth, do you even know what it is? An Opal is the mark of a Noble. The inverted tear-drop, see. Its symbolic of how the people send their cries up to us. To be honest, we hardly ever heed them. It’s a bit of a puzzle, of course. The people usually have no idea what they actually need. They ask for such absurd things. Really I just try to do the best things I can think of and hope that someone, somewhere appreciates it.

“But really, Falroth. You have no idea how lucky you are that you came to me. If you had showed up on another Noble’s doorstep with an Opal he would’ve tortured you until you told him how you got it, and then he would have killed you.”

“If he could manage it,” said Falroth, with a wry smile. “Turns out I’m a right bit harder to kill than I thought.”

“Well that’s nice, I guess,” said Ember, her voice cracking a bit. “But now you’ve really got to tell me who you took if from. I told you my story. It’s only fair.”

“Alright, listen up then.”

Falroth proceeded to tell his sister everything that had transpired since he left the Forbidden Wasteland. She listened with bated breath, reacting appropriately to all the big surprises.

Every time he mentioned Frost, she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

“This Frost character sounds shady,” she said, when he had finished. “She’s a bit of a psycho, isn’t she? I wonder why Manders hired her.”

“Mersel said she was the best of the best,” said Falroth.

“Yes, but Nobles generally don’t associate with people so... uncivilized. Manders isn’t known for taking risks, either. They call him shrewd for a reason. He won’t make a deal unless it’s weighted a million ways in his favor. I wonder what he thinks he’s doing?”

“Mersel said he was trying to do something to Goldale.”

“Well yes, that’s obvious. Probably something involving stealth. Getting Alper in close to the hub of their government. Whatever it is, there must be a massive payoff at the end, or Manders wouldn’t be going to such lengths to get it done. I wonder how he even knows enough about Goldale to pull it off. Do you think someone told him?”

“What? You mean someone just traipsed up to him, pointed to Goldale, and said ‘Hey look! They’ve got a lot of money, don’t they? Why not take some of it?’”

“Not exactly, but I find it hard to believe he came up with the plan on his own. There must be some external factor.”

“Well I don’t think it matters anyway. The way to beat him remains the same.”

“About that... Let me get this straight. Your plan was to sell Manders’ Opal (which, by the way, is worth nothing) to me and then use the money to cause an economic upheaval?”

“A what?”

“To upset the balance. To take down the system so that Manders’ money loses its value.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s it.”

Ember smiled broadly. “Well I agree with the theory. If Manders suddenly found his money devalued, he would most likely abandon his mission straightaway. He would probably immediately begin trading his assets for whatever commodity seemed most likely to hold its value in an unstable economy. But honestly, Falroth! It’s a plan that would take all the wealth I’ve got and the better part of a decade. To do it in the three-week window of Manders mission... it would take an unbelievably large amount of money.”

At this, Falroth lapsed into a thoughtful silence. He helped himself to another cup of coffee and sipped at it while gazing into the nearby fireplace.

“What about that load of emeralds Argil Underbrush had?” he said, at length.

“You mean Argil’s Secret Trove?” said Ember.

“That’s right. They told me he started this country with just a small amount of his treasure. What about that? Would it be enough money to stop Manders?”

“Well, assuming its real...”

“Yes...”

“And assuming it’s as large as it’s rumored to be...”

“Yes...”

“And assuming it’s still there...”

“Yes...”

“And assuming we could find it...”

“Yes!”

“Then yes. I think it would introduce enough new wealth into the economy to dwarf Manders’ fortune. But the stories about Argil’s Trove are numerous, vague, and often self-contradictory. I’m not even sure Argil Underbrush was a real person, and even if he was, he lived over eight hundred years ago. How are we supposed to know where he might have hidden a sack of emeralds?”

“Eight hundred years, you say?”

“That’s right.”

“Funny... I just remembered something. Ancelin is over nine hundred years old. He told me so.”

“Did he? Wow, that’s amazing! He looked so young. Lucky it works the other way around for us. They certainly wouldn’t have let me have an Opal if I actually looked my age.”

“He’s dying, you know.”

“Oh my goodness! Are you serious? That’s awful!”

“What do you say we pay him a visit before he goes? Who knows. Maybe he remembers something about Argil.”