Armor (Notevember 2020, #14)

The tiny knight knelt down in front of me.
    “My name is Sir Ferric Robichaud. I shall protect you from all harm. I swear this upon my life and the good name of House Robichaud!”
I stared at him in disbelief. What does one even say to something like that?
    “That’s awfully nice of you. But I’m not sure I need your protection.”
    “Of course you do, my lady. Perhaps not at the moment, but the world is a dangerous place. Sooner or later trouble will come along, and I shall be there to rescue you!”
    “Look, buddy, I’m honored. Truly. But aren’t you a bit… small? What situation do you suppose you could rescue me from that I couldn’t sort out myself?”
    “Why, my stature belies my abilities. Surely you know that ‘tis not the size of a man, but his capability, that determines his value?”
    “Heh. So sayeth all of diminutive dimension.”
    “I beg your lady’s pardon?”
    “Nevermind. You are skilled, then, in protection?”
    “Aye, in combat especially. My sword is always sharp and has never failed me. And I keep my armor in condition fit for a king, if I say so myself.”
    “Indeed, your equipment is impressive”, I sniggered. “But should not a knight have a steed?”
    “True, my lady. And I do have one.” With that, he turned around and let out a sharp whistle.
Moments later, a small animal, shining with metal, came trotting up to him. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
    “Is that an armored guinea pig?”
    “So it is. This is my loyal steed and companion, Guineavere.”
I tried and failed to hold back a giggle. “Sorry, did you say Guineavere? Are you for real?”
    “I assure you, my lady, that is her name.” Sir Ferric looked slighted.
    “And a fitting one it is”, I admitted, mustering some dignity for the little fellow’s sake. Still, I couldn’t very well let this opportunity pass me by. “Am I to assume, then, that you are a man of the Royal Cavylry?”
    “Ah, so you have heard of us?” he said, puffing his chest out. “Our reputation precedes us, as it should.” Guineavere squeaked in agreement.
    I crouched down to admire the craftsmanship on the rodent’s armor. The filigree was exquisite. Shame to let such good gear go to waste. Besides, Robichaud was so enthusiastic, I didn’t want to disappoint him.
    “Maybe there is something you could do for me, Sir Ferric. A spider – nay, an entire den of them – has been plaguing my laundry room for quite some time. I dare not fend them off myself, but the pair of you should find it no challenge at all.”
    “You need but point me in their direction, my lady, and I shall chase them off or slay them on the spot, as you desire!”
So I stood back up and walked over to the washing machine, mounted knight in tow, and pointed to the web-lined crack in the floor tiles. “There, Sir Ferric. That is their dwelling.” I have to admit, I was relishing this. Getting into character as the damsel in distress was surprisingly fun.
    “Step back, my lady”, the miniature man warned me. “This may take a turn for the gruesome.” He whispered something in Guineavere’s ear, making her perk up.
With perfect timing, a spider appeared at the crack’s opening. Sir Ferric drew his sword from its sheath. If there was a dramatic hiss of metal, it was too soft for me to hear.
    “Come at me, you foul beast!” yelled Ferric, and charged towards the arachnid, with Guineavere squealing a cavian warcry of her own.
    My one regret was that I had not brought popcorn.