The meadow was open and flat, there was room for everyone. The hunters set up tents and their campsite; they broke into teams, checked their weapons and prepared for the night ahead of them. The first day was the preparation of the hunt. This was to be taken very serious. The horns sounded to gather the hunters into their groups. The general presented each team with a task. By royal rules, the first shot of the gun goes to the King. His riffle was old, it has been passed down from generation to generation, and this deserved respect. The king was getting older and the riffle was getting heavier and heavier by the year. This time, the riffle was brought to him, already loaded. He positioned himself in a hunters pose and shoot. Everyone covered their ears to prepare for the extremely loud and smoky blow of the riffle.
The new hunters are assigned to walk around the swamp and disturb the nesting ducks to raise to the sky for the king target. When the ducks flew up, the King pulled the trigger. Whether his riffle is too old, or his vision is unclear, the king was unable to hit many ducks at the same time like he once could. The smoke settled, everyone saw how one of the wounded ducks separated from the rest of the herd and fell straight into the overgrown swamp.
All of the hunters froze, afraid to meet eye contact with the king. Typically, the first person that returns to the king his catch, he receives an award. The hunters hesitated, for the catch has fallen into the frightening, overgrown mythical swamp. Each of them decided their own lives were far more important than risking themselves for an award from the king and each feared the kings would call on themselves. Even the hunter dogs hid.
Understanding the unfortunate event, the king was first to speak. And he asks,
King: —“So who of you men, would like to receive an award?”
There was a silence, no one volunteered. Therefore, the king turned over to his right hand man, general.
King: —“Alright, General, how would you like a new sword?”
The general’s heart skipped a beat. He stuttered to give the king a response.
Gen: —“I would go into battle for you, regardless of any sword or awards. I would have gone for the duck myself if it wasn’t for my sprained ankle. I’ve already sent for a doctor.”