A supreme commander’s regalia must reflect absolute, unblemished perfection! Seating myself upon the rim of a lacquered wooden tray on the credenza, I laid my golden serpent staff across my lap and deployed a plush microfiber lens cloth. With firm, disciplined strokes, I buffed the curving hood, coaxing forth an intimidating, mirror-like gleam! Yet my vigorous friction unleashed a treacherous, crackling force. Without warning, a wayward white down feather leaped upward from the linen runner and snapped directly onto the serpent’s polished brow! I blew sharply at it, but it clung fast, swaying insolently with electrostatic charge. Refusing to yield, I used the blunt tip of my sidearm to carefully lever the impudent fluff away, restoring pristine authority to my standard.