Hyrule under Fire
For the King!
The ground shook; a column of mounted knights galloped past Tanneguy, horseshoes thundering up the stone steps.
Arn stood within two rows of galloping knights, horses jumping over the slain then upon the raising drawbridge, many knights leaning out their saddles to send their swords or lances at Arn as they passed him. Arn blocked and parried while dodging charging warhorses, sword and shield chipped so much they looked like strange saws.
One of the knights jumped off his horse, catching then climbing a drawbridge chain and ramming his sword through a link, blocking the chain from entering the gatehouse; the drawbridge was only slightly raised! The knight unwrapped a grappling hook from his belt and scaled the battlements...
Arn fought until a passing knight's flail smashed his sword out his hand. Shield kinking from so many consecutive blows from galloping knights, he remained on his feet until Tanneguy galloped, swinging his ax with such force Arn's shield shattered and he flew off his feet—and off the bridge...
Ice cold water pierced Arn's skin, eyes and sinuses. The current rolled him along the sunken dead, dragging him around a corner. He grabbed slanted earth, dragging himself above the water. Shivering, breath visible, he got out.
While the rebel forces stormed the castle, Arn ran along the moat and entered the back tower…
Violence echoed throughout the castle. He ran down a few corridors and stumbled upon two old knights and several Royal Guards, all tired and their equipment damaged.
"What happened!?" Arn barked.
"We chased after some Gerudo who tried to assassinate Sir Combsly but they escaped," a Royal Guard said.
"Before that?"
"Suddenly, knights just started attacking everyone!" an old knight replied. "We couldn't tell which knights were traitors or not! It was horrible! So is my sickness... Ughhh..."
"Are you alright, Gregal?" Arn asked.
"I think I accidentally drank a Poe... I thought it would heal me..."
Arn sighed, shaking his head. "Who would be so foolish to drink a bottled ghost?"
"Me..." Gregal admittedly wheezed.
Arn facepalmed, cape still dripping water. He squeezed the water out.
"You're all wet? What happened to you, Arn?" a Royal Guard asked.
"I fell into the moat but that's the least of my worries. Is the Royal Family safe?"
The Royal Guards shifted nervously.
"Why do we even have guards…" Arn grumbled.
"Last I saw," the other old knight said, "Impa escorted the queen and her baby princess towards her quarters…"
"I saw Impa slay several traitor knights within seconds, it was insane! I never thought that was possible! The Royal Family will be safe with her, but I didn't see the King," a Royal Guard explained.
"He must be in the great hall," Arn said.
"We must ensure their safety!" Gregal stated, weakly getting up. "I, Gregal the Great, shall save the Royal Family!" He raised his sword and shield, took a mighty step forth—faceplanted the floor convulsing.
"Gregal! You can't fight! You're too sick!" the other old knight cautioned.
"Oh, shush, Orca! I can… I can do it!" He wormed a few inches before losing strength. "Ohhh... Arn… Take my sword and shield… I won't be needing them anymore…"
The echoes of violence intensified.
Arn accepted, patting Gregal's shoulder. "I will use them well."
Gregal dryly chuckled. "You better! Ughhh... Orca, you must protect me until I am capable."
"And I will carry on the fight," Arn said.
"I sense..." Orca pondered. "An eagerness...going far beyond the mere desire of battle... You will change the fate of Hyrule."
Arn nodded. "I thank you for your foresight, Master Swordsman. I will not fail you, for you taught me well."
Orca bowed, so did Arn.
The Guard Captain and the able-bodied men following him rushed down the hallway, fallen soldiery and knights sometimes clustered along the way.
"Some knights inside the castle must have already been part of the rebellion," a Royal Guard commented.
"This revolution is more organised than I thought," Arn admitted.
They trod down a stairwell leading to the great hall. Soldiers, Royal Guards, knights, squires and even some servants, maids and pages braced themselves behind overturned tables… The rebels blasted the double doors open, splinters and smoke flying everywhere as besiegers poured in.
"The rebels are entering the great hall!" a soldier warned.
"What shall we do!?" another cried.
Arn walked between them. "Attack!" He hilt-punched a rebel carrying a curved sword, knocking him down. "To hell with you, betrayers!" He engaged against many assailants, felling foes with every swing.
The knights, squires, soldiers, and Castle Guards leapt out their cover and sallied, though the mob continued swirling throughout the hall. The ensuing melee erupted into chaos: Men tripped over one another and furniture, chairs were thrown or smashed over heads, and the maids popped out their cover to bonk rebels with rolling pins, pots and pans.
Most of the fallen were rebels, but, overwhelmed by numbers, soldiers and some Castle Guards were struck down one by one. The knights, being heavily armored, withstood blows from all directions but, once losing footing, were held down by multiple rebels who pummeled them.
"Help!" a heavy voice cried.
Arn looked back. "What!?"
The King and a few Royal Guards defended the thrones, encircled by rebels and disloyal knights who had already bloodied their monarch. An insurgent, armed with a short spear, lunged at the King, who backhanded the shaft aside while rolling his shoulders, dodging the spearhead then countering with a deadly chop.
The monarch, a rather large yet old man with long white hair and a great beard, had only his crown and a short sword, and regal garments to rely on as the rebel knights assailed him and his Royal Guards.
"The King!" Arn cried, distracted.
A robust rebel's ax smashed aside his sword then swung his ax between Arn's neck and shoulder, spaulder shattered and breastplate clefted. The Guard Captain hesitated, feeling his warm blood drizzle down his cold attire. The axeman ripped his weapon out the captain's armor. Arn crumbled to his knees.
Arn lifted his gaze, rage entrapped within his attacker's eyes. Wild-eyed, the axeman raised his weapon for another strike—a young blonde girl hit the axeman's head with a shovel, staggering him. Arn thrust his sword hilt-deep into the distracted axeman, who easily pulled the blade out as if only annoyed.
Growling out a mouthful of blood, the ferocious man raised his ax…
A defiant shout erupting out his throat, Arn straightened his legs, uppercutting his shield into the axeman's jaw, the rim bending from impact. The axeman was hurled off his feet, knocked out cold.
"Cadence! Come here before you get yourself killed!" a maid cried from her barricade.
Arn regained some senses, watching his little savior swerve through the melee then rush to safety.
More insurgents charged towards the King, easily overwhelming Arn and knocking him down, assuming him dead. Arn tried to get up but his legs failed him, the weight of those trampling him too much, their feet drumming his armor. Brain pulsing painfully, he lifted his chest and chin.
While the King's Royal Guards nervously jabbed their spears, His Majesty parried a rebel knight's sword then dented his helm in with pommel strikes. Rebel knight dazed, the King thrust his sword into the rebel knight's armpit, where armor did not cover, piercing gambeson, lung and heart; the knight fell over.
The King grunted. "Time to upgrade my weapon..." He pushed over his throne, underneath a Royal Claymore sheathed vertically into the floor. He tossed aside his short sword then ripped the greatsword from its bed. He eyed the immense blade, glimmering with Magic Power. "It's been a long time, old friend."
His Majesty spun around, swinging across the paths of a few incoming swords wielded by rebel knights. They swung again; the King launched his claymore's power upon them, blasting them away.
The next knight leapt over his fallen comrades, swinging his greatsword mid-air…
The King parried the incoming great blade, "Clumsy!" and push-kicked his attacker back. Flourishing his Royal Claymore, great blade shimmering as some Magic Power glowed along the edge, the King's momentum grew, knocking aside the enemy's Royal Claymore and all other incoming weapons. "This shall not stand!" He heaved his mighty weapon up high, "Begone!" and slammed it down, cracking the floor, raw magic erupting forth, hurling the rebel knights and insurgents off.
The King stroked his great beard, assessing the situation. More and more rebels flooded in, the knights and guards doing everything that was biologically possible while they strained from the weight of their armor and rebels' dogpiling.
As most defenders collapsed, the King let his sword tip touch the floor and he knelt. Blood dripped from his forehead, patting onto his robe. Eyes closed, he contemplated.
"For now, all I can do is hold fast to my faith..." Standing tall, Royal Claymore raised and glimmering with blue Magic Power… "I will not allow a single brave soul to die in vain. Such is my duty to the kingdom."
Overeager at the sight of their lone target, many rebels moved from the last knights and guards, charging the King.
His Majesty stepped forth as the horde approached. "You desire to kill your king!?" He raised his claymore. "Here I am! Come at me!"
Arn slid his sword out the axeman's stomach and weakly got up, tottering with each step. "My King! Get back!" He bashed rebels aside, though the King stepped into the imminent danger anyways, each hefty swing slashing across several foes at once; they hurtled in droves, though the rest leapt at the King like frenzied animals.
The King angled the flat of his sword over his left forearm, raising it diagonally to shield from many overhand blows. Contrary to his age, the King dodged attacks while countering with elderly precision.
Many insurgents attacked the King; many were slain, painting his royal attire with their blood. His Majesty whirled, sometimes even mid-air, creating a vast opening in the enemy formation. He felt something bump his back; he spun around, claymore raised…
Unflinching, unblinking, Arn stood by his king. "Did you think I'd forsake my duty, Bill?"
The King calmed down, lowering his greatsword. "It's William, Arn."
He chuckled. "Don't heroes use the diminutive version of their names?"
"Ha. Indeed."
The two men faced the reforming rebels, who pulled down piles of the fallen to make room.
"Arn, we must rescue as many of our men as possible."
"Yes, sire!"
Arn and the King clashed with the reassembling rebels, smashing them back until able to unbury the injured knights and guards, helping them up. Soon, they regained some numbers, and together reached the barricades where the maidens and children sheltered.
The King and his personnel shielded the maidens and children from the rebels, a few other personnel regrouping during the clearance.
"Retreat with the wounded into the sanctum! Save as many as you can!" the King commanded; the maidens nodded, taking with them little ones and injured defenders.
"Our foes are fearsome but we must not waver," the King said as he hoisted a knight back on his feet. "Our only choice is to prevail and continue onward for yet another push! Everyone, join me!"
Inspired by their king, the knights and guards girded themselves despite overexhaustion and blood loss.
The rebellious horde reformed yet again, Arn and the defenders standing alongside their king as the enemies loomed.
The King of Hyrule deeply inhaled. "The Golden Goddesses are watching..." He raised his claymore, rallying his men. "Ensure they are not ashamed!"
Both sides roared their battle cries, reverberating throughout the castle like a menacing evil—they leapt upon one another like lions, Arn smashing his hilt across a flying rebel's jaw who flipped mid-air.
The King's great size slammed through several rebels mid-air, claymore furiously whirling. Landing upon a few insurgents, the King flourished his blade upwards from an underhand manner, blade swinging in a figure eight pattern, disarraying incoming weapons and chopping into the wrists of clumsy foes. "You will not prevail!" He pulled his claymore back then lunged forth, feet sliding across the bloody floor as his greatsword lanced through the mob, launching many against the walls and pillars.
As the King and guards battled the assailants, Arn shield-bashed a rebel down then engaged in others, receiving repeat blows into the helmet and shield. Nevertheless, he shoved his way towards his king as the rebels kept pouring in, the slain piling up yet again.
"Cover your eyes!" the King abruptly shouted.
"What—" A great flash blinded Arn.