The Dark Lord's Risk Assessor

Arrival - Part 3

It had been a long while since Janet had been able to take such a satisfying hike during work hours and she was almost sad when the drawbridge of the Dark Lord's castle came into view hours later, but there were deficiencies to be issued and Janet enjoyed that almost as much.

As she approached the drawbridge covering a moat, four guards with a mix of swords and maces charged out of the castle grounds where they had been loitering in heavy armour. Dark visors obscured their faces under their helmets. Janet stopped and whipped out her pen and flipped to a fresh page in her notepad.

"What training have you been provided with those weapons?" she asked.

The guards skidded to a halt, facing her general direction, although it was difficult to tell if they could see her sufficiently through the visors. The one in the middle of the group spoke up. "Training?"

"Yes, training. Who keeps the records of which guards have been trained in each weapon?"

The guards glanced at each other. "We just pick the one we like the look of," the one with two missing fingers said.

Janet's eyes gleamed. She dropped her backpack on the ground and pulled out her Prohibition Notice pad.

"Do not use weapons," Janet muttered to herself as she filled in her first form. "Reason: no training presents a risk to the safety of persons."

Janet signed the form, ripped the top copy off the pad and taped it to the chest of the nearest guard. He lifted his visor to see what was stuck to his armour.

A scrawny, frazzled man in a rumpled flowing purple cloak and crumpled velvet pointed hat dashed out of the castle grounds as Janet stepped past the confused guards.

"Wait! Stop! Don't attack!" he yelled as he ran forward.

Janet waited for him to reach her before she thrust a hand out. "Janet Higgins of Duffleooffer & Co Risk Assessors. You must be the Dark Lord's advisor."

The slender man doubled over trying to catch his breath while he stared at her outstretched hand in puzzlement, before straightening and offering a limp hand. A frown crossed Janet's brow, however there was no legislation that prevented substandard handshakes so she was unable to list the interaction as a deficiency.

"Richard Tumberridge," the man offered, before glancing past her. "Apologies for the rough reception. I wasn't expecting someone so quickly. Where is the risk assessor?"

"I am the risk assessor. Considering the state of your operation, my manager Mr Rickmore thought it prudent to send the best." Janet raised one eyebrow and proceeded to stare the man down until he felt suitably cowed over his question.

"Oh." He shuffled from foot to foot. "Where's the man I sent to wait by the troll's bridge?"

"Mr Tumberridge, I regret to inform you that I encountered a deceased male dressed in the Dark Lord's colours beside the bridge. Once you have safely retrieved the body, I expect you to provide me with a full report of your investigation into this man's death, including future preventative actions before I leave."

The man swallowed nervously. "Of course, Ms Higgins. Shall we, ah, proceed inside? I'll give you a quick rundown of the operation and show you to your quarters for your stay. Mr Rickmore said this could take some time."

"I familiarised myself with the information you provided on the way here. If you don't mind, I'll make notes on my way to my room. Firstly, your guards are prohibited from using weapons until they are fully trained. Secondly, do they normally stand out in the weather dressed in armour without appropriate protection?"