"It is midnight. Time to continue if we're to arrive by midday. " The Sandwalker said and whirled before darting into the sparse forest. They moved by starlight alone, long accustomed to the irritation and scars from bites and itches brought about by the tiny attacking critters of the night. Leba's retinue trod on, the sound of the Sandwalker's heavy walk the main guide to their step. Traveling by night was hectic, even torturous one might say, yet, Leba had long since gotten accustomed to it for it was the most likely way he could maintain anonymity while covering distance. Their late night journey wasn't the first one he'd undertaken in his quest to become something more under the blanket of darkness, he'd been on this journey many times.

Something more. Leba had first taken lightly to the feeling of inadequacy that plagued him and simultaneously availed itself from within the eyes of those who expected much from him. He'd taken the disappointment apparent in his father's eyes whenever he failed to emerge from Desan's shadow as something that could be branded as humorous. How funny it was for one to expect someone to be as another simply because they were of the same loins. But then he'd noted the same look his father held while regarding him within the faces of all who knew him. Even his mother treated him as if they were connected under the banner of negligible relevance for others could indeed play their roles. Lamical was the birth giver while he was the son who existed for purely aesthetic purposes, a symbol of an aspect belonging to the royalty but not necessary enough to warrant fanatics or servitude. It annoyed him.

"It's a warm night, the moon is close to being whole, probably in a night or two." A servant walking alongside him said. Leba was the closest to him so he was certain the words had been directed at him. Leba had to suppress the part of him that immediately became irritated at the servant's words. It was the same part he'd concealed in his quest to relate to those beneath himself, it occasionally reared itself whenever servants spoke to him as if he were their equal. I am the only Royal who stoops to be addressed. Other Royals stand tall and watch as those who address them strain on their tiptoes so as to match their height.

"How has the bringer of the endless night blessed you?" Leba asked. It was the question that helped him escape the burden of pretense. It reminded him of the necessities of his actions in order to achieve his goal.

"I was a slave, great one." The Servant didn't hesitate to reply. Religion was an elaborate accomplice in the crafting of one's need to belong which when crafted fed one's reason to submit to the religion's theme. Leba lowered himself to interact with the servants as if he was a part of them, as if they were together a part of the whole, something beyond a means to an end. But in truth the banner they stood underneath set his purpose in gold before all their eyes. For he was the great one, chosen by Locha to rescue them from their miserable lives and to give them a new purpose beyond the limit they were in with their worship of Meena. Leba had changed the servants' ghastly lives and in return all he wanted was their devotion to what he believed in.

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"A slave?" Leba asked. He knew all about the enslavement of some Binorians but his prodding was routine. A necessity if he was to maintain face, if he was to relate to their pain.

"Yes." The servant continued. Leba could tell by the dim light of the stars that the man's face was turned to him yet his ear still remained focused in the direction the Sandwalker's thumping feet were as the guide forged the way south. "The Kolotians became hard to hunt down as they traveled deep into the eastern desert where few Binorians could venture. Labor was needed, labor and more." The Servant paused, seeming to ponder the extent of what lay beside slavery. "My parents were of the Outer-ring, sold me to the late Highlord of the South Local where I was... Hardened." Leba let out a sound of acknowledgment, as if he related. "I was there until my youth, then I was brought back to the Capital where you purchased me during a mass sale and set me free.".

Freedom. Something that came naturally was also what had bound many to his cause. Majority were slaves, in debt, or without zeal for life and in need of a merciful end. He had offered not mercy but release, he'd turned them against the singular worship of Meena and introduced them to the salvation offered by the void. All they'd needed was a nudge to plunge into endless oblivion and the nudge had come in the breaking of their chains, paying of their debts and the promise of a purpose beyond the self.

"Who do you thank for this?" Leba asked. He knew the answer of the man who matched his stride as he followed in the wake of the Sandwalker whose skin cloth’s stench served as as much of a guide as the sound of his footsteps.

"I thank the bringer of the endless night. He who revealed his name to you as you walked the realm of slumber. Locha who offers eternal relief and assures of freedom from the known." The Servant replied. Leba grunted in acknowledgment of the man's zeal. Religious fanatics did more than veil the atrocities that occurred and continue to occur as his quest for the ancient God, Locha, progressed. The taken lives of the numerous sacrificed children under the guile of religious purpose was watered down by fantastics to seem more as an unavoidable cinch than a sin. A necessity that justified the means to an end.

"Praise Locha." Leba said.

"Praise Locha, praise the bringer of endless night." The dozen or so servants present with him as he made for the cave to the south of Binoria answered him. They'd abandoned their homes, their newly found lives and routines without a word, all for the sake of partaking in what was to come once the moon was full upon the sky, when Leba would attempt to reach for the divine. Leba knew that more servants awaited ahead with eagerness to witness the fruits of his labor, his promise of eternal release fresh within their minds.

Will they kill me if the God fails to answer? Leba wondered. The sound of the breathing of his companions suddenly made him feel like a fisher's net was posed above him, set on restricting his movements lest he failed to prove their faith valid. Fear clenched at his chore. Locha will not fail to answer. Leba assured himself as he trod beneath the stars, his entourage following close by. His assurance did little to muffle his fear.