If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
___________________________
They sat there a little while longer, as the war wasn't over. The Brotherhood still loomed, the Institute still plotted, and the Commonwealth was still a place of darkness and danger.
By the time the first sunrays burned through the early morning fog, the camp at Sanctuary was already stirring. Sico stood at the edge of the training field with a steaming tin mug of coffee, watching the newest batch of recruits jog laps under the direction of MacCready and a few seasoned Minutemen instructors. Dust kicked up under their boots. Breath turned into mist in the cool morning air.
Most of them were young — kids barely out of their teens, calloused more by tragedy than time. But there were older ones, too. Former traders, farmers, even an old security guard from Diamond City who had lost everything to raiders and come looking for purpose. The Commonwealth had a way of taking and taking, until all that was left was the will to fight back.
Sarah approached from the direction of the armory, her combat armor slung under one arm, eyes focused. "We've got thirty-six new recruits across Sanctuary and Quincy," she said, brushing her bangs from her face. "Half of them still need proper combat armor. I've got the armor teams in the factory to working overtime, but it'll be a few more days before the shipments catch up."
Sico gave a slow nod. "We'll make do until then. If they don't have gear, they drill even harder. Discipline can win a fight before a trigger's ever pulled."
"Some of them are scared," Sarah added, quieter now. "But they're willing. That counts for something."
"Willingness," he murmured, "is the first step to change."
They stood side by side in silence for a few beats, watching one of the instructors correct a recruit's grip on his laser musket. Then Sarah glanced over.
"You started on that draft yet?" she asked.
Sico smiled faintly. "Wrote the first sentence this morning."
"And?"
He took a sip from his mug. "We, the people of the Commonwealth, do hereby commit ourselves to unity, justice, and the restoration of our homeland…"
Sarah gave a small nod of approval. "Not bad. Don't screw it up."
Far to the east, beyond the battered remains of Boston's skyline and across the harbor's gray waters, Fort Strong loomed like a relic from another war — tall concrete walls cracked with time, the rusted husk of pre-war artillery still clinging to its roof. But beneath the decay, something more dangerous had festered.
Super Mutants.
They had turned the once-proud military installation into a nest — their guttural roars echoing across the water, drawing fear from nearby settlements. For the Brotherhood of Steel, Fort Strong wasn't just a threat. It was a strategic opportunity.
From the skies above, Vertibirds swept in low, rotors beating the air into thunder. The lead ship bore the Brotherhood's insignia, its side hatches open, Paladin Danse standing just inside, his power armor bathed in the early morning light.
"All units, prepare to deploy!" Danse shouted over the comms, his voice calm but commanding. "Remember your objective: eliminate all Super Mutant abominations, secure the armory, and report any military-grade assets immediately."
The Vertibirds roared over the island's perimeter. Super Mutants on the roof snarled and opened fire with makeshift Gatling guns and rebar launchers. One of the Brotherhood gunners lit them up with a minigun, ripping green flesh and shattered concrete into the air.
"Touchdown in ten seconds!" barked the pilot.
The moment the Vertibird hovered over the south wall, Danse leapt from the side, landing with a ground-shaking clang of steel. Behind him, a squad of Knights and Initiates followed, forming a tight line.
"Advance!" Danse ordered.
The Brotherhood swept through the courtyard in a wave of fire and steel. Plasma bolts cracked through the air, lighting up Super Mutants who charged with spiked clubs and rusted missile launchers. One mutant screamed, "Kill the tin men!" before taking a pulse blast straight to the chest, exploding in a mess of green ichor.
Danse was a machine of focused fury. He moved with precision, cutting down enemies with his laser rifle, barking commands, pulling wounded Knights behind cover, and pushing forward without pause. The Brotherhood was relentless, trained, and out for blood.
Inside the main building, resistance was heavier. Mutants had barricaded the halls with overturned desks and armored doors, making every inch a brutal contest. But the Brotherhood's superior weaponry, coordination, and sheer willpower proved overwhelming. Room by room, they cleared the structure.
Danse stood over the body of a hulking Super Mutant Brute, still twitching beside a broken minigun. His armor was dented, scorched in places, but intact.
"Clear," came the report from Knight Lopez on the upper floor.
Danse activated his comms. "Paladin Danse to Prydwen Command. Fort Strong is secure. All hostile contacts eliminated."
"Copy that, Paladin," came the voice of Elder Maxson, cool and composed. "Report on assets?"
Danse turned, glancing at the fortified vault doors they had pried open with Brotherhood plasma charges. His HUD scanned the room, pinging dozens of markers: weapons crates, heavy ordinance, racks of pre-War combat armor and explosives.
"We've secured significant pre-War stockpiles," Danse reported. "Approximately hundreds crates of ammunition — assorted calibers. Over hundred dozen functional laser rifles, over twenty dozen plasma weapons, fifty crates of pulse grenades, stimpaks, med-X. We also discovered storage cases containing nearly three hundred combat armor sets in repairable condition."
He paused, turning toward the massive blast chamber at the far end of the vault.
"And, Elder…" Danse said, walking forward slowly. "We've discovered at least two hundred and fifty mini nukes — fully sealed and primed. These can be deployed for Liberty Prime's ordinance array."
There was a moment of silence on the channel.
"Well done, Paladin," Maxson replied. "Hold the fort. I'm dispatching a logistics team and a Scribe detachment. Ensure nothing is damaged or tampered with. That arsenal will be critical for our campaign."
"Yes, Elder," Danse acknowledged. "We'll hold this ground."
He turned back to the rest of his squad, raising his voice.
"Secure the perimeter! Set up motion sensors and trip mines along all approaches! Fort Strong is ours — and we will not lose it again!"
A cheer went up among the Knights and Scribes already combing through the munitions. Outside, the Brotherhood flag was raised atop the tower. It whipped in the wind, bold against the gray sky.
As the scene return to Sanctuary, Sico sat inside the command tent, poring over a hand-scribbled draft of the first constitutional outline. His brow furrowed as he scratched through one sentence and rewrote it twice. Sarah paced behind him, armor off but rifle still slung on her back, as Preston entered the tent with a grim look.
"Got word from our scouts that we placed near Fort Strong," Preston said. "Brotherhood's taken Fort Strong."
Sico looked up. "They finally moved in?"
"Cleaned out every Super Mutant. Raised their flag on the roof. The scouts saw them bringing in supplies. Big crates, lots of them. Looked like they were setting up shop long-term."
Sico leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. "That fort's got an old weapons depot. Probably found a goldmine in there."
Sarah folded her arms. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"They're getting ready for something," Sico said. "And with Liberty Prime… they're not going to stay on the defensive for long."
Preston sat down across from him. "We need to accelerate our plans. Recruitment. Logistics. Governance. All of it. If the Brotherhood makes a move, we'll need more than guns."
"We'll need unity," Sico replied. He tapped the paper in front of him. "This. This might be our only shot at surviving what's coming."
Sarah looked over his shoulder at the charter draft. "Then you'd better get to writing, Mr. Founder."
Sico pressed the tip of his pencil harder into the parchment, carving the latest thought into the makeshift constitution draft. His tent was quiet save for the gentle flapping of canvas in the breeze and the occasional murmur of voices outside—recruits running drills, mechanics working on armor fittings, the hum of life slowly returning to a world once thought lost.
His latest line on the page had been troubling him. A long pause hung in the air as he stared at the words:
"The elected President of the Commonwealth shall serve until death, incapacitation, resignation, or voluntary retirement."
He frowned. It sounded too cold. Too much like old-world bureaucracy wearing the mask of reform. He crossed out the line and wrote again.
"The President shall serve as long as they are able and willing, unless removed by unanimous vote of the Council for reasons of health, dereliction, or grave misconduct."
Better. It honored responsibility and service, not just authority. It gave weight to the idea that leadership was a duty, not a crown. Sico leaned back in his chair, took another sip from his coffee—now lukewarm—and let his eyes drift up to the roof of the tent. He was thinking of what came after him, after all of them. What kind of world they would leave behind for the young ones jogging laps that morning, and the ones who hadn't even been born yet.
"Choosing a leader," he muttered aloud, mostly to himself. "Not a general. Not a warlord. A president."
Sarah, seated now at the corner of the tent with her armor leaning against the wall, glanced up. "That's a big word."
"It needs to be," Sico replied. "It's got to mean something. When we choose someone to lead us—not just in war, but in peace too—it's got to last. They lead until they're ready to step down. Or can't. Or…" he paused, tapping the pencil against the edge of the table, "…until they die. But only one person. No parties. No shadow councils pulling strings. Just the people's voice."
Sarah gave a low chuckle. "A lot of faith in people who've been lied to their whole lives."
"They've earned it," Sico said, not looking up. "We've all earned it."
He scratched more notes into the paper, forming the first draft of succession clauses, term definitions, and the outline for a civilian advisory council. He knew it would take months—maybe years—for a working system to take hold. But the seed had to be planted now. Before war came again.
Because it was coming.
Deep beneath the ruined bones of the old world, the Institute glowed in sterile white light.
The air inside the Directorate chamber was cool and sharp, humming with the electricity of unease. Seated around the curved table were the Institute's highest minds—scientists, engineers, strategists—each cloaked not in robes or medals, but in lab coats and quiet arrogance. Father, calm and unreadable, sat at the head of the table. Nora was seated beside him, hands folded, her eyes flicking toward each face in turn.
Dr. Clayton Holdren was the first to speak. "They're escalating. The Brotherhood. If they've seized Fort Strong, they've got access to a pre-war military stockpile."
"It's not just weapons," said Allie Filmore from across the table, voice sharp. "It's a symbol. A show of strength. They're flexing."
"I told you," said Dr. Ayo, arms folded tightly. "They're not content patrolling the skies anymore. They're preparing for full mobilization. Liberty Prime wasn't just for show. And now they've fortified their reach with an armory full of ordinance."
Nora leaned forward. "You've confirmed it's secured?"
Ayo gave a curt nod. "Our remaining surface scouts report no Super Mutant activity at Fort Strong. Brotherhood flag raised. Multiple Vertibird landings. Paladin Danse himself led the assault. And—" he paused, tapping at his tablet, bringing up blurred images of crates and weaponry—"they've found nuclear ordinance. Mini nukes. Hundreds of them."
A tense silence followed.
"They'll use those on us," Holdren muttered. "They've always seen us as a threat to be erased."
"Then we hit them first," Allie said. "Use our teleportation network. Insert Synthetics to sabotage their Vertibirds. Disable Liberty Prime before they finish repairs. We've done this before."
"We've tried," Ayo replied. "Their detection protocols have improved. Our last infiltration team didn't even reach the flight deck."
"They executed them?" Nora asked.
"No," Ayo said, lips tightening. "They never made it inside. Shot down mid-teleportation breach. Killed instantly."
"Then we adapt," Allie snapped.
"We wait," Father interjected, his voice still calm, but firm. The room fell silent.
"We do not act rashly," he continued. "Fort Strong is a setback, yes, but not an irreversible one. We've survived worse. The Brotherhood can seize an old base, fly their flags, and march around like saviors—but they cannot rebuild the world. Not like we can."
Nora frowned, her voice cutting through the quiet. "They're not pretending to rebuild it, though. That's the problem. They're arming. Recruiting. Gaining support. And they're targeting us. We need a response strategy, now, not a week from now when they're marching on Cambridge."
Ayo's fingers danced across his console again. "There's more. Our field sensors near the Charles have picked up increased Minutemen movement. Greenetech is being fortified. They're not pulling back. They're consolidating. The Minutemen aren't just defending—they're expanding."
Father's face betrayed a flicker of concern. "How many soldiers?"
"Hard to say," Ayo admitted. "But judging by the supply traffic and training rotations—they're preparing for something large. Maybe fifteen hundred, maybe more. They've got their factories churning gear, and they've taken the old radio tower near Nordhagen. Broadcasting recruitment calls."
"Let me guess," Nora said, her voice thick with irony. "Sico."
Ayo nodded. "Yes. The General."
"Bastard moves like he's building a nation," Allie said, her disdain sharp.
"He is," Nora said quietly. "That's what we should all be afraid of."
The room fell quiet again, but this time with no rebuttal.
Father steepled his fingers, staring past them all as if watching some distant future unfurl.
"We hold position," he said finally. "Continue surveillance. No provocations. No direct attacks. Let the Brotherhood plant their flags, let the Minutemen draw their maps. We will remain the heart beneath the skin. When the time comes… we will cut deep."
Back at Sanctuary, the fire crackled softly in the Command Tent's brazier.
Sico held the parchment draft up to the flickering light. The ink gleamed faintly across the now-completed preamble and the first two articles. Sarah, Preston, and a few other senior Minutemen were seated around him, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and quiet awe.
He read aloud:
"We, the Minutemen to the people of the Commonwealth, in pursuit of peace, unity, and justice, hereby establish the Articles of Restoration, and commit ourselves to the rebuilding of our homeland under the rule of law, guided by hope, duty, and shared destiny."
"Article I: The Office of the President shall serve as the highest civilian authority, elected by the consensus of community representatives. The President shall lead until resignation, incapacitation, retirement, or death, unless removed by unanimous vote of the Restoration Council."
"Article II: A Restoration Council shall be formed, consisting of representatives from each major settlement and military division, to advise, deliberate, and check the powers of the Office. The Council may override Presidential decisions with a two-thirds majority."
The tent was silent.
Preston exhaled slowly. "That… that's something."
"It's a start," Sico said.
Sarah looked thoughtful. "It puts power where it belongs. In the hands of people who live here. Not some scientist in a lab or a soldier in the sky."
"There'll be critics," warned Albert, standing just outside the flap. "There always are. But if we lead by example, and live by this—others will follow."
Sico nodded, folding the paper carefully. "Then let's make sure it's not just words on a page."
He stood, fastening his coat.
"We'll send copies to all settlements. Let every outpost read it. Discuss it. Amend if they must. But we move forward together—or not at all."
And far above them all, across the clouds and the winds of war, the Brotherhood stood watching.
On the Prydwen's upper deck, Elder Maxson stared out across the horizon, binoculars in hand, gazing toward the Boston skyline. The glow of Fort Strong was visible in the distance—a new outpost of steel and fire.
He lowered the binoculars, hands gloved in black leather, face unreadable.
"Madison Li," he said, his voice deep and firm. "Begin final calculations on Liberty Prime's ordinance fitting. I want that platform operational within the week."
"Yes, Elder," she replied.
He turned to Knight Captain Kells. "Send a message to all squadrons. Reinforce Fort Strong. Expand perimeter defenses. If either the Institute or the Minutemen so much as breathe near that island—I want them repelled with extreme force."
Maxson stood tall, his coat flapping in the wind.
"We've given them enough time. Enough chances. The Brotherhood doesn't just preserve the future. We are the future."
And beneath it all, three factions prepared for war.
One, seeking unity and justice.
One, seeking purity and control.
And one, born from fire and steel, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The next move would not be political, because it would be a war between 3 largest faction of the Commonwealth.
________________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-