The Last Huzzah

"Did something just move there?" Foster asked, pointing to a CCTV screen showing an area of the palatial gardens in Willow. "Yeh, i think it did. We better check it out." Greenwood replied before standing up and leading the better part of the duty Royal Guard out into the grounds to investigate the strange figure. As the Guards slung their rifles over their shoulders and left the building Foston continued to watch the screen anxiously, fearing punishment if he was wrong. However he was sure there was something odd there, so better safe than sorry he thought, especially at night.

A few minutes later the Guards appeared on the screen and approached the figure which didn't move, Greenwoods voice soon came through the radio, "It's a ...ing scarecrow."
"A scarecrow?" Foster repeated in confusion, then something else caught his eye: a mass of movement had erupted outside the front gates. "Christ," Fosted thought "they're breaking in!" Grabbing the alarm bugle Foster rushed out to the top of the great marble steps leading to the Palace doors and began sounding the panic signal when the great oak gates swung open and a shot rang out. Blood from Foster's neck splattered onto the white marble as the shot hit him and the bugle fell from his hand with a clatter.

The first few notes of the bugle had served their purpose however, having heard the noise and the shot a group of mounted Royal Guards appeared from around the corner of the stables to see what the commotion was. The men momentarily froze as they saw hundreds of heavily armed men pouring through the open gate, "sugar," Brigadier Jordan uttered realizing they were only armed with ceremonial armour and swords while their enemy had assault rifles. However by now the rebels were halfway to the palace doors and they had sighted the horsemen, realizing it was now or never Jordan roared "For the King!" and spurred his horse forward. "For St George!" the reply came from his men as they followed into a wall of machine gun fire, however the good Saint must have been smiling on the men that day as soon blades were flashing in the crowd of rebels as the horses crashed into the mass.

Bullets ricocheted off steel plate as horses reared in the hail of bullets, some thrashed on the floor having been hit numerous times (causing considerable damage to those men who were in the path of their flailing hooves) however by some miracle a large group of the cavalry were still alive, mounted and fighting with bloody enthusiasm. Despite the desperate efforts of the mounted guardsmen some of the rebels simply went around the fight and poured into the Palace hall, a large richly decorated room which housed the main staircase. Once more progress was halted however when a roar of "Fix bayonetes!" erupted from down the hall as Greenwood's men arrived back in the Palace and charged the attackers down the corridor. Men clutched their stomachs to attempt to hold in their organs at the Redcoats slashed and stabbed mercilessly with their bayonetes causing the air to thicken with a red mist of blood.

Howls of pain echoed around the lofty room mingled with the sound of gunshots as the fight progressed, despite being out-numbered at least 10 to 1 the Redcoats fought to the death to defend the Palace. However eventually they began to be pushed back towards the corridor they had come from by sheer weight of numbers, it was then that Greenwood's voice was heard again roaring, "Not a step backward! Fight for your lives! St George!" To which a number of other calls for the Saint to give them courage were heard and the Royal Guard fought with renewed vigour.

By now everyone within a mile of the Palace had been woken, including the King who appeared at the top of the grand staircase flanked by the 4 four members of his personal guard. "Your Majesty, get down!" a member of the guard pleaded as the King gazed down at the chaos below, it was then that the first shot was made at the King: causing a vase on a table next to the His Majesty to shatter. "Shoot straight you bastard!" King Jeremy yelled as he drew his flint-lock pistol and fired back at the rebel who had taken the shot. A flash of flame erupted from the pistol along with a loud bang and a puff of smoke, however His Majesty was unable to see if he had hit his mark as he was soon rugby tackled to the ground by a member of his Guard.

The most fierce fighting then broke out with the Guards peppering the crowd below with machine gun bullets through the banister rails as the last of the Redcoats were killed or too injured to carry on fighting. A fierce volley of rounds came back at them as the King realized the impracticality of a flint-lock pistol as a personal defense weapon, however luck would have it that a Circum Raynor war rifle was mounted upon the wall nearby. Crawling back along the corridor slightly King Jeremy reached up and managed to yank the rifle off the wall and make his way back to the banister, it was just as he arrived back there that the first of the rebels reached the summit of the stairs. As his head came into view over the ridge of the last step His Majesty was taken by suprise and saw nothing to do but hit the man, so instinctively the King rammed the butt of his rifle upwards into the mans face with all his might: causing blood and saliva to splatter across the nearby wall and the man to fall backwards down the stairs.

However hundreds of men were now scrambling up the stairs and His Majesty's guard were beginning to loose all hope of getting the King away alive when two tall figures appeared in the doorway. Miraculously Brigadier Jordan and one of his brigade had survived the slaughter in the courtyard and now spurred their horses through the doors and into the chaos inside. All but the most intense fighting ceased momentarily as nearly everyone stopped to look at the two ragged horsemen, however the pair were in no mood to be a spectacle and immediately began to slash wildly with their swords as if the devil himself was before them.

Seeing the opportunity the distraction provided the two surviving personal guards grabbed the King and dragged him off down the corridor: bullets peppering the walls behind them as they ran with a gang of rebels in pursuit. Sprinting through the passages he knew so well the King soon managed to loose his pursuers but they all knew by now all resistance in the hall would be over and hundreds of men would be hunting them through the corridors and many chambers. There was nowhere left to go but up so the three men ran up flight after flight of stairs as they headed for the roof, however as the passed a particular doorway King Jeremy suddenly stopped and ran inside. His Guards went back and looked through the door in time to see His Majesty vault the bar and start searching through a rack at the back of the Palace's private pub.

"Your Majesty, there's no time for booze now! Come on!" At which point the King climbed back over the surface and ran back to the door, "This stuff is 20 years matured!" King Jeremy responded with a grin holding a dusty bottle of Hertzagavinan whisky in his blood soaked hand. Soon however they were running again, heading ever upwards towards the exit on the roof. As they went a massive blast shook the entire building causing chunks of plaster and debris to fall from the ceiling, "Christ," His Majesty thought, "they've got artillery!" Moments later the three men turned a corner and burst out of a door onto the roof of the Palace where a handful of other men were already waiting for them: Royal Marines from HNBMS Rose. A particularly well dressed gentleman with a plumed hat stepped forward, King Jeremy recognized him immediately as Lord Packard of the Brittanian Navy. "Good Evening, Your Majesty" Packard said grimly before King Jeremy was grabbed from behind.

The King struggled ferociously as he realized two of his own Marines had hold of his arms, "Bastard!" he yelled seeing Lord Packard looking on unsurprised. "Now it's for your own good, Your Majesty" Packard replied as the Marines strapped something around the King's arms and pinned him in the sitting position on the ground. The sound of plane engines could be heard dimly overhead as Packard stepped forward towards the King who thrashed wildly as the towering figure of his Naval Commander got closer. Packard stretched out his hands towards the King's neck as the plane engines got louder, suddenly Lord Packard yanked his hand back and a loud hissing broke out behind the King and what seemed to be a large white balloon attached to a rope soured into the sky.

As the sound of the plane reached a deafening level so that the King thought it must be directly overhead he felt himself suddenly being dragged up and into the air at frightening speed. Below the King saw a rebel burst out of the roof door and open fire on the crowd of marines, His Majesty saw Lord Packard fall in a hail of bullets just before he was lost into the darkness. "What the hell had happened?" King Jeremy wondered, was he dead and was ascending into heaven? "Can't be", he though, "it's too ...ing cold to be that." Looking up His Majesty could see the rope which was attached to the balloon stretching from behind him upwards, it suddenly struck him what had happened. It was then King Jeremy realized that his last word to the man who saved his life had been "bastard" which was regretful, however there wasn't time to feel guilty: the engine noise was becoming louder.

Aboard Maritime patrol flight 1720 half the crew were yanking desperately on a rope which was trailing out of the open rear door of the Hercules, they were gazing down the rope into the darkness for something they could not yet see. Suddenly a little dark shape appeared and sighs of relief went up as the crew pulled with renewed vigor, the shape grew larger and larger until a tall man was lying in shock on the cargo ramp of the plane. "Welcome aboard, Your Majesty" the leading airman said as he saluted. The King stuttered some sort of reply as a blanket was laid across his shoulders, now he could see the lights of the city of Willow passing swiftly below him as the plane flew towards the ocean at a terrifyingly low altitude. As the passed over the city harbour the source of the artillery shells became clear, the enemy didn't have artillery at all and the shells had in fact come from the HMY Singapore which was by now a raging inferno in the harbor. The crew were desperately fighting to retain control of the ship as the gunners continued to fire off shells into the city from the ships big guns which illuminated the night with flashes of fire. Everyone from soldiers to butlers fought on the deck as men climbed up the mooring ropes to siege the ship, the King had told them specifically that no one was to board the ship and they intended to keep that promise.

The King turned away from the sight of the pride of his navy burning and crawled across the flight-deck, his legs had failed him due to the cold and exhaustion. He didn't even bother to ask where they were going, he knew his Kingdom was lost and for the moment nothing else mattered. Out of shock and despair His Majesty drifted off to sleep, "Who the hell were those rebels anyway?" he wondered before drifting off.

The King woke several hours later when he felt the plane jolt and heard the sound of the breaks screeching as the aircraft halted. Opening his eyes the King saw the cargo ramp was being lowered again, it was then that he felt the wind on his face and realized it smelt of salt. A gentlemen walked over to the King as he blinked at the light, "Welcome to the HNBMS Rose, Your Majesty." the Captain announced. King Jeremy simply grunted his acknowledgement then began swigging from the whisky bottle which he still clutched in his hand.