At dawn on the third day, King Bahram Gur rode forth toward the hunting grounds surrounded by his imperial host. At his left side moved Hormoz the steward, and at his right rode his pure-minded mobad, Roozbeh. As they traveled, they recited the heroic chronicles of antiquity, speaking of Jamshid and Fereydun. Hounds and cheetahs bounded ahead while falcons and hawks soared in the sky, yet as the shining sun climbed to the crest of the heavens, not a single wild ass or gazelle crossed their path. Disappointed and heavy-hearted, the king turned back from the hunt.
On their return, they came upon a verdant village teeming with prosperous homes, thriving people, and abundant livestock. The villagers thronged the roadside to gaze upon the royal procession, yet not a single soul uttered a blessing or raised a chant of praise for the monarch. Insulted by their stony silence, Bahram's heart surged with prideful anger. He turned to Mobad Roozbeh and commanded that this lush haven be ruined, transformed into a haunt of wild beasts with its streams turned black as pitch.
Roozbeh, possessing deep wisdom, shrank from bringing unjust ruin upon the innocent, yet could not directly defy the king's mandate. Instead, he devised a profound lesson. Entering the village, he declared to the folk: 'The King of Kings is delighted with you! As a royal favor, he decrees that every single inhabitant—man, woman, child, and laborer—is now a master and chief. Henceforth, no one shall obey another!' The villagers rejoiced at their sudden exaltation, but order dissolved into catastrophe. Without a single guiding head, reckless youths turned violent and severed the heads of the elders. Blood flowed, plundering erupted, and the terrified populace fled. Within months, crops withered, irrigation channels dried up, and the once-vibrant settlement decayed into a desolate wasteland.
A full year passed, and with the arrival of spring, Bahram Gur hunted once more along the same path. Beholding the ruined homes, barren fields, and dead trees, the king's heart softened with remorse and fear of God. He turned to Roozbeh, lamenting the tragedy, and ordered him to use the royal treasury to rebuild the village. Roozbeh returned to the ruins and discovered a frail, lone elder. When asked who had wrought such devastation, the old man cursed the 'foolish mobad' who had declared everyone a chief and unleashed madness upon them.
Roozbeh then appointed this wise old man as the sole headman and master of the village. He provided gold from the crown treasury, seed, oxen, and beasts of burden, instructing him to enforce discipline and lead the community. The elder set to work; the scattered refugees returned, streams were unblocked, and trees were planted. Within three years, the hamlet blossomed into a lush paradise of tall halls, green meadows, and thriving herds.
When Bahram Gur revisited the site and marveled at its miraculous resurrection, Roozbeh revealed the hidden truth: 'O King, a realm with many rulers collapses into ruin, but under a single wise leader, harmony flourishes. By giving command to all, I let their own lawlessness destroy the village without shedding innocent blood; by entrusting command to one righteous elder, prosperity was restored.' Deeply moved by the mobad's wisdom, Bahram Gur praised Roozbeh, invested him with a royal robe of honor, and bestowed upon him a purse of gold coins.