NBA Dramatique, Prelude 21

He rode quickly through the night. There were two reasons for his haste: the threat of capture and the concern of not arriving in time.

He had made a secret pact with the Revolutionaries to come to their aid and help lead them, but he was well aware that time was working against him. The Revolutionaries had to bolster their ranks, and if he did not arrive quickly enough they would outfit simple mercenaries to go into battle. Brand was not against mercenaries per se, but he believed in the Revolutionary cause and felt that he could be of greater benefit than any group of mere hired hands.

At his back was the quiet shame of betrayal. He had ruled the Barony for years, always struggling in the shadow of the Western Banner. It had been his dream and his goal to elevate the Barony to prominence. Just when the bureaucrats had orchestrated a deal to bring in a powerful cohort, he had a change of heart. Yes, with the help of a new ally he may have eventually toppled the Barony, but the other powerhouses of might in the western lands would be more difficult to destroy. Nothing would really change. Brand had become aware of a loose-knit group of skilled fighters in the territories of the east who were making life difficult for the Factory and the Bastion. Those fighters had heart and purpose, and it seemed that they did have the ability to shake up the unbalanced status quo. Their goal was to secure the Prize and restore parity of strength across the land. Brand admired them and their spirit in the face of adversity. And, to be honest, he had grown weary of the stale Barony and its’ problems. So he escaped.

Brand had pushed his horse so hard that the fatigue was nearly killing it. They had ridden through the dark night at top speed for eleven days, and the horse had burned through so many calories that ribs were prominently visible through its skin.

“Almost there, friend” Brand said, stroking its neck.

Coming around a hill on the dirt road, Brand saw the expected form of the sentry troop standing near the tree line – his rendezvous.

“Am I in time?” he asked the guard as he quickly dismounted and handed over the reins. The sentry, Samuel, nodded.

“Iggy’s not here yet, but he sent word that he’s coming.”

“Alright. Good. We need to begin. We have a long road ahead.”