“Milord, we have a small problem with the helmets. I’m sure you’re aware of that by now, but I fear that the matter can not be left unattended any longer.” Captain Hagan closed the door carefully before he spoke. He had sent in how many carefully worded reports touching on this matter? Far more than he had cared to count if the truth be told, though, looking back, perhaps he had been a little too subtle about it?

“Someone mentioned it in passing, but he was just a sergeant and what do they know of such things?” Lord Gavin pushed to his feet drawing up to his full height, a less than impressive four feet six inches, and that was with the platform boots.

Hagan flinched. A foot wrong here and he could end up being put up against the wall for a firing squad. Not that such a sentence actually meant death…

No, he had to keep that from his mind whilst he dealt with the matter. If it backfired then so be it, but he could not keep silent any longer. “It might have been wiser to listen Lord Gavin. We’ve had a number of issues since you had the men kitted out in them. I don’t believe we can avoid the problems any longer. Not if you want your men to be an effective fighting force.”

“I don’t understand why there have been any issues. Just what, exactly is the problem with the current helmet design?” Lord Gavin paced back and forth behind the table. The top of the table remained covered with a dozen sets of papers, sketches and full color designs still laid in full view. “They look impressive. Shouldn’t a set of minions always look impressive? Or should I have gone for the fearsome look? Tell me, where is the issue here!”

“Well, yes Milord, they are very impressive indeed, but perhaps we should have gone with a different approach?” Oh they were very interesting to look upon. He would have been the first to admit that. With the black and gold inlay and shiny material the guards who wore them had been eye catching, stunning as they paraded through the capitol, the problem lay elsewhere.

“What sort of approach did you have in mind?” Lord Gavin flipped his way through the designs. “Perhaps the plumes? Should I have gone with the plumes, or was that too last century?”

“No, Milord, it’s not the plumes or lack of them?” Deep breathes, if he took long, slow deep breathes then maybe he would get through this in one piece?

“Ah, I see, the colors. Well perhaps you are right. Blood red might have been far more effective. I can have the entire line redone in a matter of days. Hm I might even look into getting the entire inner sanctum redone. What say you? Blood red and gold perhaps?”

Pressure built behind Hagan’s eyes, a normal inconvenience when he had to deal with Lord Gavin. Sometimes discussing matters with a brick wall would have been easier, and he knew well, he’d had a healthy conversation with several brick walls after meetings exactly like this one. “I think you are missing the point Milord.”

“Are you suggesting that I have made a real design error?” Lord Gavin’s voice rose two octaves, turning him into a squeaky twelve year old. The change in voice suited him in all honesty, between his height and the out break of pimples across Lord Gavin’s ruddy cheeks he did look like a pre teen half the time. How old was he anyway? That was just one of those questions you really did not ask the man if you wanted to live.

“Well, yes Milord. I think in this instance you have.”

“How dare you question my judgment!” Flecks of spit rained out across the desk and the scattered papers.

“Milord, if you calm down for a moment and give me a chance to explain…”

“Are you telling me what to do now?” Gavin’s voice cracked in mid sentence.

“No Milord, nothing like that.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“I just meant that…” Oh Gods, what had he gotten himself into this time. Why couldn’t he have picked the long straw instead of the shortest? Damn that Robert for using the straw method, he’d never had any luck with that.

“Guards! Get in here now!”

Wonderful, this was just not going to be his day. Was it a Monday? Things always took a turn for the worse on a Monday.

As one the group of six guards burst into the room, guns drawn. Gavin was right about one thing. They really did look impressive in those uniforms.

“I want this pitiful creature taken out and shot. Shot I say. Against the wall in the courtyard. Right now this minute. Go on get him out of my sight. And do it by the book, full uniform. I wish him to tremble in fear in those last moments as he looks upon my guards.”

Hagan barely suppressed a smile as he walked out from Lord Gavin’s office, surrounded by the guards. Full uniform. Well now, a pity the man hadn’t listened. It was damn hard to shoot someone when you couldn’t see through the helmet. By the time they realized he was gone it would be too late, and who would dare to tell Lord Gavin that his helmet had been the cause of such a problem?

And after all there were always other evil despots looking for a trusted Lieutenant...