2. Bandit Hunter
The president of Barbala was about to refuse Paunet’s proposal. He’d hoped it would go smoothly, but now he had to come up with a really good explanation.
He didn’t have any.
“To be honest, your honor, I am bored to death.”
It was the truth. It wasn’t the entire truth.
Paunet was a peacock that displayed feathers in all colors known to monkeys, and even more than that, which most animals couldn’t see. And still he wore a colorful gown over his wings, even if that complicated walking and flying.
He stood in a beige building near the harbor. The salty sea air traveled through the building unobstructed, for the entire left side was a gaping hole. A gift from the previous attack on the island by an enemy ship. The only reason the island survived was because the original Seafarers had bravely defended it back then.
A dark brown table separated Paunet from the President: a brown-black hare with ears that reached the ceiling.
“Boredom is no reason. You come from a rich, powerful family. Why do you need more money?”
“But president, this won’t just be any ship, I say. This will be the best ship ever! No enemy ship will be safe. We’ll have won the war by simply having it, I say.”
Paunet crept closer. Not because he feared the president—he was practically family—but because his gown didn’t allow more movement.
“Did you hear, your honor? The next valuable ship has been lost at sea. What was it again? The Spring? The Thing? The Fling?”
“The Sting,” the president mumbled.
“As I said! Give me that space near the harbor, give me a chest full of Soliduri, and I will build a ship to hunt those bandits for you.”
The president shook his head, his ears flapping like strands of hair in a strong wind.
“Why? You have a save life here on Barbala. Money, status, wife, children. Have you even been on a ship?”
“No! That’s what makes it exciting! I, erm, will also need a crew. Animals who know how to turn on a sword.”
“To turn on a sword?”
Paunet laughed. “Ha, ha, just a joke, say I. Of course I know you need … a magic spell to use a sword?”
The president’s gaze settled on the complicated blueprint on the table, showing a large ship with innumerable cannons. He smiled. “These drawings look good, I must admit. If you can build this … even the ship of Captain Pi will seem like a toy!”
Paunet cringed at the sound of that.
“With all due respect, Captain Pi and those Seafarers are treated like gods around here—but they’re not. And I want to prove it.”
“But why?”
Paunet has asked himself the same question time and time again.
His family had several large estates on the tropical island Barbala, and coffers filled with gold. He was lucky. He had always had an easy life.
But that was his father’s achievement. One of the original Seafarers, he was, who did know a thing or two about money and trading. Paunet himself had never been interested.
And thus, for years, his riches had been stolen and destroyed, right in front of his beak. They had been at war with Frambozi for nine years now, and their enemies still believed all the tropical islands were supposed to be theirs.
What if he told the president he wanted revenge? No, he’d be rejected for sure. Everyone who left the harbor with a ship and revenge, died within a week, or became a buccaneer themselves.
“I am bored. I want a challenge. I want to hunt enemies for you.”
“You ask too much,” the president complained. This was not going as planned.
“Who refuses to pay the price, has never had the debt of Heavenmatter!” spoke Paunet formally.
“You can quote sayings all you like, it’s still—”
“It’s only a thousand gold coins, say I. I don’t ask for the Firering, or the Book of Meaning, or the Fartherwater, or your firstborn son, or any other huge offering.”
The president was about to walk away. Paunet hesitated. He knew it might come to this, but it still hurt.
“I am prepared to put my entire fortune into this ship myself.”
The president chattered his long teeth and bumped his nose against Paunet in a friendly gesture. “That’s more like it! That will save me a lot of Soliduri, yes, yes, yes, then I think I can support you.”
“Great.”
Paunet smiled and stuck out his wing for a wingshake.
The president didn’t understand and instead pointed his front paw at a building on the other side. “That lot’s empty. Build your ship there. If you need more gold or material anyway, let me know.”
Once outside, Paunet bumped into the market stall of a brown mongoose. As always.
“Ah, Paunet!”
“Ah, Monogo,” he spoke pompously. “News? Any exciting matters?”
Monogo looked drowsy, as if he’d just woken up. “No, no, same as always. Nothing to complain ‘bout, nothing to complain ‘bout.”
“I am starting a new project. Would you like to help build the most dangerous ship ever?”
“Huh? No, no, I have me stall. Fine like so.”
“As I thought,” Paunet mumbled.
He walked the entire harbor square, but absolutely nothing was happening. The same stalls as always, selling the same things, including the same useless rumors about someone’s breakfast or clothing choices.
No news from the outside world, which was definitely the more interesting part of this world. No news from his father who’d found another ship and embarked on another world journey—and made it very clear that Paunet couldn’t join him.
He decided to waste no more time on it.
Soon after, Paunet stood in the empty hall the President had assigned to him. A few palm trees had worked their way into the room, through holes in the broken wall. But in his dreamy eyes, he only saw a ship, shining and magical. A beautiful vehicle that would be right here in just a few months.
His ticket to a new life.
He’d done it. His life would finally start being fun.
He grabbed his list of requirements: lots of wooden planks, hammers, nails, cloth for the sails, and more.
His personal servants had come down from the estate to meet him here. He commanded them to purchase all these materials “in the name of the President”. And to “please wear some less smelly clothes next time”.
When he left the hall, he instantly sought the shade of two palm trees to cool off and take a break. The first objective was a success; the second one failed.
His wife walked up to him and gave him a kiss. He let it happen. A smaller peacock, with slightly duller colors, accompanied her briefly. But his daughter only gave Paunet a brief wave, then walked away and continued playing on the beach.
He had never found his wife beautiful. He didn’t say it—for it was not nice—but it was the truth. Father had forced him to marry her because she was the president’s family. She had even more money, even more power, and even more plantations.
When they married, he’d asked her to release all her slaves. He found it inconceivable to possess other animals, no matter how popular it was. No matter how hard you needed them.
As a consequence, his wife now also had no money, no power, and no plantations anymore.
She caressed his gown. “What … what are you doing here?”
“Oh, I have a new job as, erm, inspector of empty rooms.”
His wife raised her feathers. “Oh, well, then I have a new job for you: inspector of the dining table at home. We’re having dinner, dear, are you coming?”
“My apologies, dearest madame, I am very busy with—”
“Inspecting empty spaces?”
“Yes, exactly. Very hard work, I say.”
His wife let him go and walked to his daughter. She played with the wreckage of another ship. One of many victims of the fight between Frambozi, Casbrita, and some more lesser territories.
His wife made a final attempt. “Oh, do you mind if we’ll dance with pink aliens tonight and sacrifice burning palm trees to the gods?”
“Whatever you want, dear,” Paunet said, as he waved to his daughter again and made for the wood store. “Farewell.”
His wife’s feathers drooped like a melting icicle.
“Are we really going to dance with pink aliens?” his daughter asked, her face covered in sand.
“No, dear, it was … I don’t know why I said it.”
Life, dear reader, seemingly always wants something new and is never content with what it has. The push for the unknown is the only way I can explain Paunet’s story. It’s what put apes on the precipice of becoming very clever human beings at this point in time; it also caused tremendous pain and sorrow throughout all of history.
Suddenly the church bells rang, just outside the harbor square. This could mean two things: very bad news or very good news.
Paunet turned around and studied the waves on the horizon. He saw no enemy ships.
Everyone took cover behind a stone or a pile of coconuts. They held their breath. No cannonballs lodged into their walls; no screaming echoed over the beach.
So it must have been good news.
A down of hares hopped every which way. They held pieces of parchment with their long teeth, rolled up and kept in place by a thick wax seal. All of those were dark red and imprinted with the symbol of the king.
“Raise the flags! Eat pumpkin cake! Hug your children!” the hares yelled.
The messengers stood still at the fountain, which almost dried up during the tropical summers of Barbala.
“The peace treaty has been signed. Barbala isn’t at war anymore!”