In which a purpose is given.
Fort Lenimentum was unprepared. The assault was causing it to crumble and shear to the ground. They had been safe as long as they had their main cannon, but the enemy's sudden reinforcements destroyed it. They had lost ground since then.
The commander of that base, Warden Trevor Files, continued to issue orders. He was certain that if he could get the right people in the right places, he could win the day and save some lives.
A young, distraught Dreadnaught approached him. “Warden, sir, it's the Architect...”
He didn't turn from the battlefield. “What about him, soldier?”
“He... he wants to see you.”
The Warden grimaced and shouted to another man “Lieutenant Thomaston, take charge!” Once the lieutenant acknowledged, he then left the noise and fire of battle and descended into the lowest decks of the fort.
The Architects act as the remnant leaders personal war council. Architect's do not often accompany their forces on field missions. No one knew why one of the elite was insistent on coming along on this one, and no one cared to ask. He had set up in what would have been a storage area across from the main generator. Quarters appropriate to his station were prepared, but he showed no interest in them.
After several flights Trevor arrived and entered. The generator's blue green glow shone through a porthole into the room. The light cast moving shadows of gears and other machinations fighting to maintain stability in the onslaught. The shimmering of water filled Warden Files with the impression that he was deep under sea.
The Warden pounded the palm of his fist against his heart in salute. “You sent for me, Grand Architect.”
The Grand Architect stood ten feet tall. His cloaked form calmly pored over a hulking wooden book. The tome rested on the back of the Architect's personal drone. If this were the sea, then the Architect was surely an enormous predator... lurking within a crevice, patiently awaiting its careless prey. Trevor adjusted his uniform and put his primitive imagination aside. The Architect was no monster; he was a great leader who had made great sacrifices to his own body in an effort to band the Remnant together, just as all Architects must do. He needed such a leader now more than ever.
“This is no room for error.” His voice was so deep and quiet that Trevor wasn't sure if he actually heard it.
“No, Grand Architect. What would you have me do?”
“This world is lost, young Warden,” he continued in that same tone. “All the people that walk its surface are lost.” Explosions shook the base even this far down. “There is a thing that was forgotten long ago. Such a precious thing. You must retrieve it.”
Trevor stood motionless for a moment, afraid of his own question. “Will this... save the Fort, Grand Architect?”
The Architect's hulking frame lurched forward and closed the tome, the weight of it crushing the drone. “Fort Lenimentum has become one of the lost things of this world, but the future still gleams. Receive your bounty, it holds truth.” He raised his arm to indicate a small chest by the door. “Take the new-found man and go.”
The room shook with that last word. Warden Files was unsure of whether it was due to an explosion or something in his leader's voice. He stayed at attention and spoke “Mundus fractus vindicare a reliquiae.” The Grand Architect slowly nodded his head. Trevor took that as his queue, retrieved the small chest, and once again joined the noise and fire of battle. He was unsure of his mission, but possessed of the absolute certainty that he must not fail.
