The Tale of Rostefoe

Garvin sighed a deep sigh. He pushed the blade of his sword into the firm ground until it stuck like a marker on a grave.

Then, slowly, he removed his armour piece by piece until he stood in his loose undergarments. Seeing the items scattered about Garvin, Ivan smiled.

"Kill him," was all he said.

And the mob was rushing on Garvin.

They came at him with swords, daggers, and spears. Like a pack of wolves on a wounded deer they struck, swinging and poking, trying to completely destroy the man before them.

Ivan watched, but there were so many men that he could not see Garvin through it all. He looked at Daphne and was taken aback by the strange way she looked on. She seemed to be…smiling.

It almost shook him to his bones. He could not believe it. Then, the mob subsided and spread out. With the violence of the attack, there should have been nothing left. Ivan’s eyes widened in amazement. And then he understood.

Standing there in the middle of the mob was Garvin, untouched. Not a single scratch had been left. Not a bruise. Not even a smudge of dirt. Garvin looked down beside him and extended his fingers to surround the handle of his sword. Ivan saw him withdraw it, almost in slow motion. Then Garvin looked up and into Ivan’s eyes. Then he knew. It was not the armour. It was the man.

Rostefoe understood this, too. He understood equally as well the fate of every man standing. Most of them stood there, frozen as Garvin struck them down. Others uselessly tried to fend him off. A few ran.

When it was over, two men remained standing (Rostefoe had not gotten up)- Garvin and Ivan.

"Bucky, take Daphne home. I will be along momentarily," said Garvin in his strange voice.

Ivan waited as Daphne walked over to the carriage and, together with Bucky, lifted the driver into the cab. Then Bucky climbed into the driver's seat and took control of the horses. They were gone.

Rostefoe looked on as the two men stood nearly toe to toe. Garvin was speaking, again in his strange, foreign language, but Rostefoe could not hear him. His words were for Ivan alone. He saw as Garvin let his sword fall to the ground and, as Ivan recoiled in terror, took the villain in his bare hands and killed him.

Done, Garvin went over to his armour and redressed. When he finished he turned toward his horse, paused, and looked over to where Rostefoe was sitting. Rostefoe looked into those eyes, mesmerized. Garvin nodded, mounted his horse, and rode off.

Rostefoe watched him disappear into the bend in the road. He looked over the battleground and all the bodies lying there. The numbness in his legs had gone. He felt strong. He was about to get up and leave, to find some other place. Instead, he relaxed and leaned more comfortably against the tree.

"This is a fine place," he said to himself and ate a few nuts.