The spider hunters of Paulet

Paulet is a little village at the southernmost tip of the now infamous Last continent. It forms part of the treacherous Forest Route meandering along the coast. As with its predecessors, the First Continent (discovered just before the Middle continent), its infamy dates to when man first discovered this unabashed beast which has since then been the downfall of many an intrepid adventurer.

In modern times, the fact that the Forest dates back centuries has provided it with Heritage Status. Unfortunately, that also means that, when people go missing after embarking on the adventure of traversing the Forest Route, there is very little search parties can do to retrieve them. Many of those who successfully emerge from the Forest after weeks of criss-crossing the lengths and depths of its sparse foliage, call it a jungle. They claim to have encountered all manner of strange creatures while desperately trying to escape the tangled roots and limbs of trees and other flora on the floor of the jungle. By the time they escape the hungry clutches of this beast, they no longer have photographic evidence to back up their claims. One thing they all agree on, however, is that there seemed to be a disconcerting proliferation of spiders.

Established a few hundred years ago by a mysterious hero of English persuasion, and named after his equally mysterious wife, Paulet has garnered and encouraged its reputation for unexpected adventures. No matter where you lived, Paulet was well known, and its promise of unparalleled adventures brought its inhabitants untold fortunes throughout the year.

It wasn’t until an unseasonably cold summer afternoon sometime in the twenty first century that things changed dramatically. The Lord of the main house at the top of the winding gravel pathway wriggling its course away from the centre of town to the outside fringes of the settlement, decided to celebrate his birthday with the rest of the inhabitants.

Many man hours were spent preparing for the auspicious occasion. The womenfolk toiled endlessly to prepare snacks and drinks for the guests of the evening, while the men and children were relegated to fetch and carry whatever the women needed.

Not one to miss a profit-making opportunity, the Lord increased the amount payable to accept his invitation substantially. It also served to keep ‘unwanted elements’ at bay. The added benefit was that the party’s costs would not come out of his own coffers.

The day of the event progressed as well as anyone could expect, and the evening saw fireworks end the festivities. Many townsfolk watched from their improvised verandas and fervently wished that the Lord die an excruciating and publicly humiliating death.

This, as we now know, didn’t happen, and for many that was bittersweet.

Around the same time, travellers claimed that they were being stalked by spiders. Depending on whose version you believed, the arachnids could be as large as a dachshund or as tiny as an innocent ladybird.

As reports of encounters with these creatures grew, so the pressure on the Lord to act intensified. Finally, after much persuasion, and assurances that there were profits connected to the proposed venture, the Lord declared Paulet’s first spider-hunting season.

As is his nature, the Lord tasked various so-called experts to produce marketing materials which would encourage explorers to avail themselves of the unique opportunity to participate in the first ever spider hunt. The marketers could find no images of the spiders, so they challenged each other to use the technology at hand to create the scariest prey ever. The response was immediate. Villagers swore to have seen these creatures stalking through the town at night. They even elaborated on the descriptions of the most feared species of the eight-legged creature – the Maxime timetur aranea.

A few natives were not sympathetic to the Lord’s cause. They felt that there was a hidden agenda and, therefore, viewed every comment issued from the manor with deep-seated suspicion. One thing they all agreed on was that the hunting of spiders – especially in their neck of the woods – wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

Paulet had never seen so much activity since its establishment two hundred years ago. Every bed in the district was booked months in advance and the equipment providers were scrambling like demented ferrets to source enough traps and knives to meet the high demand.

But many years after the first official hunting season, there were those who started murmuring about the reduced numbers of prey available for the hunting season. Nobody could quite pinpoint who was responsible for the dwindling numbers, but there were deep divisions among the population of this obscure part of the world.

Some inhabitants blamed the girl who spent her summer avoiding the sun and creeping around the open spaces protecting the gravel road into town at dusk. She was seen crouching low over known spider habitats. One could only guess at the mischief she was getting up to.

Some even bravely suggested putting an end to what has been a very lucrative activity that benefitted most of the town’s inhabitants. These suggestions were met with ferocious opposition at first, but as it became more and more obvious that there was, indeed, fewer spiders to hunt, the town’s elders put on their thinking caps and called a conference of experts to find an alternative to cancelling the annual hunt.

Days became weeks as the elders rejected scores of suggestions from these so-called experts. Finally, hunting season was almost upon them.

The Lord, taking his dwindling bank account into consideration, decided that, for the sake of the town’s continued existence, the hunt would continue for one last season. Once the season was over, the elders could then reconvene and, hopefully, find an appropriate solution to the problem.

Due to the severe shortage of spiders, however, everyone with some business savvy applied the law of supply and demand. Based on the average participation of the previous years, they decided on a two-pronged approach: first, more images of Maxime timetur aranea had to be sent out to the world to entice the most experienced and enthusiastic hunters to Paulet; second, the price for participating in this year’s hunt would have to increase significantly – making it more desirable to a better class of hunter. There were also professional hunters on hand for those who required assistance.

As the Lord did not give guidance on how to calculate a ‘significant’ increase, the traders in the town took their own initiative and ensured that their prices were by far the most competitive in town. The reasoning followed that the more expensive it was, the more desirable it would become.

If a trader found a potential rival with higher prices, they would simply add another ten or twenty per cent to their own costs. Some businesspeople had difficulty correlating the rationale with their long-time experience, but the pressure was crushing them.

As the opening ceremony for the season approached, the merchants were frothing at the mouth in their fervour to attract hunters. Puzzlingly there was little interest in the town’s top-rated activity. Soon the merchants and the elders called an emergency meeting in the town hall to discuss the challenges that the businesses were experiencing. The conclusion was that the hunters should be given an incentive to come for the last hunt. Although the Lord’s bank balance cringed at the anticipation of MORE expenses, the required incentive was ‘donated’.

And so, the season commenced with much fanfare, although only a few diehard hunters bothered to attend. Villagers looked on as the handful of strangers invaded the designated areas, leaving blood-curdling shrieks in their wake.

Long story short: Not a single spider could be found. None of those involved could produce a carcass or indicate a sighting of the once abundant spider habitats.

The Lord conquered a rising panic attack and reassured everyone that this was a temporary situation and that he already had discussions with the relevant scientists who have remedied similar catastrophes. It all came with a price, and the Lord indicated that – this time – it would have to come out of public funds. He was not swayed by the disgruntled utterings of the majority of those having to contribute towards this effort.

Thus enters the clandestine Spider Hunters of Paulet Association. Their aim? Find the surviving spiders and relocate them safely even deeper into the Forest. As for the secrecy of this secret society, the whole town knew exactly who the members were. When asked about it, however, their collective memory failed them spectacularly.

On the eve of the Lord’s uncelebrated birthday (years after the spider-hunting boom), the Lord closed the doors and windows to the manor and proceeded to prepare for bed.

As the town settled down for the night, the leader of the Spider Hunters of Paulet Association received a very puzzling call. Upon hearing what’s at stake, he rapidly roused his associates and together they rushed to the manor. None of them dared get excited before seeing the spectacle for themselves.

The Lord habitually left the manor doors unlocked, so the troop entered the house carefully, yet very enthusiastically. This was history in the making.

Four women accompanying the leader of the Spider Hunters would later testify to loud screams and a whirl of frenetic activity which also saw the Lord move with an undignified briskness around the furthest perimeters of the overcrowded bedroom.

Struck mute with abject horror, it took the rescue party some time to put together what the crisis was.

As the presumed Maxime timetur aranea ran across the ceiling towards the Lord, a squeak emanated from his fearful vocal cords. He pointed a loud finger at it, and almost fainted, when the amused arachnid parried towards him.

Before the rescue party arrived, two schools of opinion had already formed: those in favour of preserving the spider’s life, and those opposing this notion. Assessing the situation presented to them, a collective giggle rippled through the crowd.

The Lord, who by now had taken a well-meaning servant hostage and was using the poor soul as a human shield, had a colossal sense of humour failure. It was further exacerbated by his ambiguity as to the fate of the impetuous invader.

Whilst all the considerations were flung around the room like frisbees, Maxime timetur aranea gleefully terrorized his prey by employing guerrilla tactics: eyeing his target malevolently, then charging at full speed, retreating just before the Lord squealed his last, hoarse squeal.

After much toing and froing, the hostage demanded decisive action. Every time the invader charged; the human shield was violently jerked into a position that blocked the path to the Lord.

All things considered; the Spider Hunters decided that the conservation of what could be the last spider in the district would be the most prudent course of action.

Although there was vehement opposition from the victim, the Spider Hunters managed to persuade the errant creature into a bin, covered it with a towel and speedily exited the house.

After considerable convincing that the spider had indeed been relocated to a more suitable environment, the Lord reluctantly released his now irate servant, thanked his rescuers, and went to bed with adrenalin swirling in his veins.

He remained pensive on the whole hunting issue for several weeks before he called an immediate community meeting.
Supporters and opposition alike were keen to hear the latest wisdom the man himself was sure to share with them, leading to much speculation and misinformation to spread like fire through dry tinder.

As the hour approached, bodies crammed into the town hall. The Lord made his way onto the improvised stage and faced his dutiful followers.

He opened his mouth and the room held its breath. ‘It took four women and a negotiable gender to rescue me from the thing I fear the most. Of them, the spider was the bravest. It challenged me in my own comfort zone without knowing what the outcome would be. Yet, it still came. As you all know by now, it has been given a new home. A secret habitat where it will live and, hopefully, thrive. For many years we have terrorised these creatures in places where they thought they were safe. It took only one, very brave, messenger to show me the error of our ways.’ As he paused for effect, the room collectively mused about the coming declaration.

Looking over all the heads beneath him, the Lord announced without too much dramatization: “From today, only those who belong to the Spider Hunters of Paulet Association will be permitted to hunt spiders during the annual season.”