Something Had To Die
Daemond pulled the bowstring in his hand and aimed. Holding his breath, he released his fingers, and the arrow flew precisely hitting the target.
"Outstanding, General. Ten out of ten shots, all hitting the mark," District Chief Timothy praised with a booming voice.
The man looked cheerful this morning. The frustration he showed last night disappeared, replaced by his wide smile. There was a sense of pride in being the only District Head invited to accompany the General in the archery arena. Perhaps he finally gained the General's trust.
"The rumors about the greatness of the Great General of the Kingdom are not wrong," Timothy added. "Shooting stationary targets like this must be boring for you."