#KingsArm

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Decided to split this into THREE parts because... geez I underestimated how long this chapter is actually going to be!

TW WARNING!!! BLODD/DEATH/GORE/HEAVY TOPICS

“Ah, welcome to Grimble Outpost Lord Captain Helmer.” A large white soldier standing on the opposite end of the bridge said loudly, trying to be heard over the booming rivers, the muscular buck saluted, a powerful fist to his chest. “I am lieutenant Traff, keeper of this island. And we need your help.” he said somberly.

As the large lieutenant guided the band of bucks down a steep hill, Helmer noticed the way across the island to the three other bridges where the rest of the soldiers were walking off of.

“Don’t worry,” Traff said in a rumbling voice, “We’ll have them situated, as well as the officers who should be on their way up to the tower.”

As they began to ascend the stone steps up the large hill, Helmer noticed signs of life, such as cottages, smithies, and even a small cafe. Though everything was quiet, except for an occasional creak of a door, or a pitter-patter of rushing feet, no one was in sight.

Traff noticed Helmer looking around and spoke, “This outpost is more than just a soldier’s housing. It’s a home.” He slowed down in his walking, and stared into the distance, past the few trees that were standing sturdily on the rocky hill, in the distance where Helmer knew First Warren lay. Though one couldn’t see it, even this high up. Traff sighed, “This place is home to more than just soldiers, it’s their families. The nurses too, even some wandering rabbits stopping for…” he paused, “safety.” he spat out the last word, as if he too believed this was the last stand.

They would all perish.

Reaching the top of the long steps in the tall tower, Helmer then walked forward until he could peek through the open window, his stomach curled at the head reeling height they were at.

“Pretty high, eh?” A voice said behind him. Helmer glanced to see it was Hewson, they buck walked over and peered down, then shuddered. “Too high if you ask me. Rabbits were meant for the ground.”

Helmer shrugged, “Yea I guess, but seeing a flying rabbit…” He laughed and elbowed his old friend, “That’ll be the day!”

“Hah!” the gold-grey buck chuckled, “When rabbits fly!” The buck barked out another laughter then edged away from the window, “when rabbits fly…” he laughed and turned away.

“I honestly hope we do have flying rabbits.” Traff said, coming over and handing Hewson a spyglass. Look northeast, towards the bleaks. In a small valley.” He directed.

Hewson raised a brow, then lifted the glass to an eye, he was silent as he stared in the said direction, when he put it down he silently handed it to Helmer. The quiet was overwhelming as he placed it by his face, looking out of the skinny end he was barely aware of the other captains, lords, and lieutenants as they gathered around them.

Helmer narrowed his eyes as he followed the directions, he almost dropped the glass.

Wolves.

Lots of them.

Helmer raised his head and looked at Traff, “We must get help.” He murmured, even with their conjoined forces, that would not be enough.

The lieutenant shook his head wearily, “I fear there will not be enough time, our scouts say the wolves will surround us by morn.”

Lord West grunted, “What in Natalia are these wolves even doing this far out? They have been this close to First Warren since…”

“...since the old wars.” Lytton finished somberly.

Some silence followed and Helmer worried that the wars would start up again, sure there had been a few skirmishes and raids over the past few years, but not a full scale attack. If this was happening again…

“We have to stop them.” he growled, “And I think I might know how.”

“Are you sure this will work?” Hewson asked again from where he stood by Helmer on top of a boulder overlooking the plans in the valley below.

“No. I’m not sure.” Helmer grunted.

“What? But you said-” Hewson began again.

“I’m not sure.” Helmer interrupted, “But it has to work. We don’t have any other way.” he finished.

Hewson looked at him, his gaze flicked towards a figure behind Helmer, then he sighed and shook his head and walked away.

Before Helmer could wonder at what that meant, he heard footsteps behind him, he frown and side stepped just as a buck caming running up to him, a wry smile on his face.

Helmer’s eyes flashed with recognition as he gazed down at the pale buck, his fur tinged violet in the disappearing sun. Though the black buck was far from surprised he was far from happy to see the young. He merely sighed and looked back at the working bucks, throwing their all into moving the dangerously large barrels of blast powder up the large hill.

“Really? Nothing?” Henry asked, pushing his borrowed glasses up his face. “Not even a ‘you shouldn’t have followed me?’”

“What do you want me to say?” Helmer sighed and turned towards the smaller buck, “I wish you had stayed out of the way. But by the Maker that apparently won’t happen.” He frowned and stared hard at the young buck, “Look, if you are going to keep following me and-”

“To the ends of the earth.” Henry stated, puffing his chest out and lifting his chin.

Helmer ignored the interruption, but his heart was touched by the loyalty he had gained from the young buck in such a brief time of knowing him, “Look, if you are going to keep following me and disobeying direct orders- which will make you a terrible soldier by the way- you need to actually listen to me.” He grunted. “Go back up the tower, help the doctors and be a good messenger boy.” Helmer patted him on the head then turned away. Henry sputtered something then huffed and obeyed.

Helmer hummed and turned to walk up the spirling path that led farther up the hill.

“Ready bows!” Lord Hewson cried, holding up a tan-furred hand, his gaze dark as he watched the crashing waves of grey fur converge toward the northern bridge. Howls and screams rose up as they swept towards the ancient pathway. The legendary archers of Harbone snaked the strings back in an echoing stretch. Helmer heard the lord’s echoing words across the valley, from where he stood beside Perkin, the bucks behind them murmuring and restless. He kept his hand on his sword hilt.

“Aim!”

Helmer drew in a deep breath, tightening his grip on his weapon. Vast numbers of wolves swathed onto the bridge.

“FIRE!” The older Lord yelled, the surrounding archers followed the battle cry and launched the arrows. The piercing weapons hit some wolves, though the true aim was meant for the large bridge.

BOOM.

The flint kits attached to the arrows met the hard stone and sent a vast explosion across the entire bridge, the stones started to crumble. Helmer watched on as howls of anger turned quickly to shrieks of fear as the wolves vanished into the water below, some tried to keep their heads above the crashing waves, yet in the end they all went under. Helmer shuddered, he hated water with a passion, he hoped to neve meet such a watery grave like so.

“Hopefully that’ll stall them for the time being.” Perkin said softly.

“Hopefully.” Helmer agreed, his voice straining slightly.

“Lords! Lord Captains!” A voice breathily yelled.

The Captains exchanged a look then turned to see a pale buck clutching a letter. Henry panted and handed a slightly crumpled piece of paper up to the older bucks. “A… a… letter from Lieutenant Traff.”

Perkin grabbed the piece of paper, his eye flitting across it, and his single brow furrowing, the scar across one side of his face crinkling gravely.

“What is it?” Helmer asked, glancing at Henry, who caught his eye and shook his head. He did not know.

“It says that…” Perkin narrowed his eye and leaned closer to the paper to read the quickly and frantically scrawled writing, he suddenly reeled back his single eye widening. “It says the wolves are circling around towards the back!”

“Already?!” Helmer cried, they knew the wolves would regroup, and had planned ahead but they thought the wolves would take awhile. Maybe an hour at most, this wasn’t good. Not at all. “Which bridge?”

“I think east, beyond the valley. Or south?” Henry pondered, then shook his head. “Ughhh I never should’ve followed you!”

“You got that right.” Helmer agreed soberly.

“Sir! Look!” A grey soldier yelped, pointing to the destroyed bridge.

Helmer narrowed his green eyes and turned, across the roaring rapids, a few stupidly brave wolves were floundering their way across the water. A piercing cry sounded far behind the bucks, many turned and scrambled up the hills, Helmer followed.

Helmer heard a curse from a buck beside him, and the captain didn’t blame him.

Doomed was an understatement.

Wolves were crawling out and over the bridge, growls echoing across the valley. Helmer sighed again, this was not his day.

Perkin glanced at him, then turned to the bucks, “Change of plans soldiers! On my mark, we go down there, we can’t let them reach the town!” A chorus of yells followed him as the surrounding company got ready for battle. “Wait…” Helmer tensed, grabbing his sword. He was sudden;y aware of a pale buck’s presence beside him.

“Hold…”

“Henry!” Helmer hissed, grabbing the buck’s shoulder, pushing him away. “Go! Get help! Lord Hews- anyone!” Henry paused, a frightened look in his eyes. “GO!” The buck nodded, then turned fleeing down the hill.

“CHARGE!” Perkin yelled, ripping free his sword and leaping down the strip of grass. Helmer followed him, along with thirty or so more bucks.

Helmer hacked and threw himself into the fray fighting and leaping, leaping and fighting. A frighteningly deadly wolf slashed at him, no weapons, only their bloody red claws. It slobbered and howled loudly. Helmer kept his sword at his side and feigned an attack before swooping to the opposite side and leaping to kick the wolf square in the jaw.

The grey beast crumpled to the ground, a yelp escaping its prickly fanged mouth, it scrambled and slipped in the snow trying to regain its footing. But not before Helmer slashed his naked saber into its thick pelt.

Helmer whirled, immediately falling back into the heated battle, despite the cold, his blood pumped and adrenaline flowed quickly through his strong body, scorching under his skin.

A long and low howl echoed across the valley, and Helmer stopped in his tracks, pricking his ears forward. The howl bellowed again and Helmer blinked out of the trance, shaking his head and heading for higher ground. What was that? He scrambled up on a boulder, his breath hitching and his jaw dropping at what he saw.

“My all for the king!!!” Hews roared, raising his mauled sword arm, still clutching the weapon. The older buck was circling a large black wolf, its dark fur slashed with scars as it also rounded the buck, it bore no weapon, only its long claws and fangs. The two paused, before Hews yelled and lurched forward to attack the larger species, most likely than not the leader of this group of canines.

“No!” Helmer yelled, helpless as a newborn babe as he watched in slow motion, everything coming down slowly, and the background battle muffled.

All he could see was the wolf’s paw colliding with the lord’s face.

Hews reeled and spun away, crashing into a boulder he fell still.

“FATHER!!!!” Helmer heard a heart-wrenching cry from his friend, and watched as the identical buck raced over, grabbing his father’s sword and screaming, Hewson hurled himself at the wolf. The wolf in turn growled and lunged at the grey buck, pinning him to the ground. Hewson struggled to escape the jaws of his father’s murderer.

‘NOW!’ An inner voice woke him from his daze, gripping his sword and regripping, Helmer sprinted down the hill, faster and faster until he was black lightning, crackling and angry. While the ferocious killer was distracted, Helmer bent his knees and leapt whirling his sword at remarkable speeds, in a flash he was on the wolf’s back, his sword plunged deep in between the black giant’s shoulder blades.

The wolf teetered, a low groan escaping its mouth, it stumbled off of Hewson and gurgled, blood spilling everywhere. Helmer rode the wolf highly, grief twisting in as he drove the blade further in, its green ember hilt shining like an eye, intent on killing. Finally, the beast heaved one more breath, then crumpled into the pink snow.

Helmer stayed there, staring at the murderer of his almost father, ‘my all for the king.’ Hews’ final words had been. Helmer thought of him, with his maimed arm, yet he had used it, and given his all for such a cause, and for the crowned one.

Then so would he.

He wrenched the sword out of the fallen foe, the battle had come to a slight pause, wolves screeching and scattering, fearful to meet an end like their mastering fellow. Helmer raised his bloody sword, a dangerous glint in his bright eyes. “My arm for the cause and crown, my all for the cause and crown!” He bellowed, an echoing roar came from the surrounding soldiers, and they approached their foes with a renewed vigor.

Helmer searched for Hewson, his eyes blurring with tears as his newfound energy quickly ebbed away, replaced by a weighty grief. He finally saw his old friend limp across the hills towards a boulder, one with a body at its base.

The captain jogged over, fear and sadness threatening to explode as he fought back his tears, he knelt down beside Hewson and looked at the broken bloodied mess beside them.

“It’s my fault! My fault!” Hewson wailed, clutching at his still father. Helmer wanted to comfort his friend, but all he could think about was what Hews had told him earlier that day.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

If Helmer had known today would be the last time he had spoken to the father-figure, what would he have said? Disbelief trickled down his back like a cold sweat.

As he and Hewson knelt in front of the fallen lord, Helmer held back a sob and turned to his friend. “He-Hewson.” He shook his friend, trying to get him out of his stupor. But the buck wouldn’t move… or couldn’t.

Helmer stood up, he would have to push this down and save the grief for later… if there was a later. He rose out of the dip in the ground, being careful to not look back, his gaze swept over the battlefield, the battle seemed to be letting up, but without Lord Hews, they didn’t have anyone to blast the other bridges. We need those gone. His brain ticked. He caught a glimpse of white fur and saw Traff racing over to him, his right eye swollen shut.

“Sir.” The tall buck huffed, leaning against his sword, “We’ve sent in the second wave, there’s no sign of Captain Perkin or Lord West…” “The bridges,” Helmer said hoarsely, his mouth dry like a drought, “We have to break the bridges.”

Traff glanced at him, “But if we do that… we’ll be trapped. Along with every single wolf, they brought the rest of the battalion, did you know that?”

Helmer cleaned his sword on the edge of his shirt, wiping away the blood of the black wolf. “I assumed so, first we need to take out the arcs, then we must move the wolves back, corner them at the rapids. Plans change, nothing stays the same bucko.” He growled.

The lieutenant saluted the captain, “I’ll get the archers ready myself sir-”

“No.” Helmer turned to see who had spoked, Hewson was standing behind them, his face tear streaked. He wiped them away, “I’ll do it.”

Helmer stepped closer, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, “Are you sure?” He said quietly.

Hewson clasped his hand, “Positive. I need to do this Helm.”

Helmer nodded, and backed away and watched Hewson run off, Traff turned back to him, “And me? Sir?”

Helmer growled and raised his sword, “What do you think?! Get back at it!” He whirled and sprang into what looked like the most heated fray, a barking laugh from Traff and the white buck followed him in.

I'm reallly sorry for such a long wait! The next chapter should be out soon though! Ahhh sorry!

I would like to thank @Meadow for the wonderful help! She was very supportive for me as I struggled to get this chapter out! Thanks again!

Also Rest in Peace Hews! :(

'My arm for the cause and crown, my all for the cause and crown!'

Question: How do you feel about the motto's origin story? Did I do ok?