When Stroth next met with the Ele Congregate, she was surprised to find them in an orchard just outside Korus. Here, auburn-leafed trees stood in well-maintained ranks, the soft scent of their blossoms lacing the gentle breeze. The austere Congregate didn’t seem the picnicking type, but a tray of vielwine and snacks had been set out next to a small ring of cushions on which she and the Dominion’s rulers now sat in their stifling black robes and masks.
“We hope this venue will set you at ease, El-Endelle,” the Artisan explained gently. “We have something weighty to ask of you.” Stroth already knew the ask, but let the Ele say their piece.
“We have been delaying the Centurions by transporting them to uninhabited worlds,” the Warrior continued, approaching their request circuitously, “but we fear the drones will eventually adapt to resist our constraints.”
“El-Endelle, it is apparent that you alone possess both the knowledge and inclination to stop the Centurions’ campaign definitively,” the Speaker asserted, “And so…”
“You must go to Aglostarros and terminate your Project Centennial. To save the Ele.” The Conductor lowered their head a little, as though ashamed to ask.
“It will not be easy,” the Builder added, in a placating tone, “and you will be beyond the Metanation’s reach. Should you succeed, you will be welcome here again.”
Taking a heavy breath so her nerves would not creep into her voice, Stroth replied, “I understand, and I accept this task. I won’t let you down.”
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