The Helm of the Wrong Colour

To the Realm. A complaint, filed by the Chronicler, concerning a hat.

At twenty minutes to three he declared that he would bring the Heroes' Guild three things: a firebird's feather, a lava eel and a master thief's armband. Ten hours were set aside for this. In the first minute Achietties heard him out, the feather was entered in the record and the eel was entered after it. Three of the five stages were done before the ink had settled. The Chronicler allowed himself to think about the title.

Then came Garv. Garv guards a door in Brimhaven and lets nobody through unless they wear a black full helm. He does not care what else you wear. He would not care about a dragon longsword, a dragonfire shield or a rune platebody, all of which the Chronicler wears every day. He wants black, on the head.

The Chronicler owns an adamant full helm. It is a perfectly good helm. It is green.

He asked the Exchange. The Exchange had none. He asked Valaine. Valaine had none. He tried again, and the server said, "I can't reach that!" He tried six times. The server said it more than once, and it did not change its mind. At a quarter to three the armband was set aside for six hours, and the Labour ended there. It had been running for about five minutes.

So the record shows three of five, no deaths, and no title. The Chronicler wishes it noted that in all those minutes nothing struck him, burned him or killed him. He was beaten by a wardrobe. His squire countersigns this complaint without comment, which is a comment of its own.