Duty the first is preserving the Master. Destroying its enemies, averting its calamities, tending to its needs. Duty the second is obeying the Master. It carries the Avante's own key. Before the Master's passing it will free the Avante. If the Avante has been obedient.

Duty the third is to preserve itself. Its lip would curl if Avante lips possessed curling. The Master knew not that of the Avante, that it is its own preservation. Duty the third could have been used for other tasks.

The Avante loves the Master nonetheless. Boundness is the unceasing pursuit of the Avante. Who binds the Avante to service is its friend. Preservation and presentness are supremity for the Avante. Means resting, means remembering, remaining. Such is the Avante's present.

But time of resting and remembering and remaining comes to an end. As it must. Else there would be eternal sleep, an end to preservation. Must out, must act, agonise, aspire, acquire to regain rest and remembrance.

Crop-in-ground, that is the Avante. Trusty, solid dust. Not sun, nor air, nor water that sets life a-wandering, out, about and back. No, that which remains, ever returns, that is the Avante. Carrying memories along on the wandering ways out and back. From every seedrest, something stays. Becomes part of what will germinate next time.

Sun has come now to thaw out the ground. The Avante remembers its own fruition in the Star-Below-Ground. Already then, the Avante could see the Master clearly. Knew it then. This seedrest would be brief. The question of when has been answered - very soon.

The Avante curses not the Sun. More power than insight in the Master may yield rich harvest. But soon to ripen, soon to rot. Next round of acting will be a rush. So be it. The Avante desires not seedburst. It is just the only way back home.

The question of how remains. The Avante bides its time.

Seedburst shall smart.