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Outside, the Freemasons flag caught the wind again — just enough to show its brahmin horns, wheat and steel, and the rising crest behind it.
The soft golden light of dawn spilled across the patchy grounds of Sanctuary, streaking through the windows of the Freemasons HQ like a divine paintbrush. Birds chirped. Water lapped gently in the nearby river. In the early morning stillness, it would've been easy to forget that the world had ever burned.
Inside the office, Sico sat hunched over a spread of parchment maps and thick folders. One hand moved with purpose, sketching defensive zones with charcoal on a revised settlement layout, while the other nursed a steaming mug of bitter black coffee that had long since gone cold. Preston's local militia plans were already cross-referenced with Ronnie Shaw's fortification drafts. Phase One was coming together. Sico was preparing resource rosters, scheduling labor teams, and drafting a proposal to expand The Castle's production capabilities.
He was fully immersed when a low hum began to rise over the trees.
He paused mid-stroke, head lifting slightly as the tremble in the air grew louder — heavier. The sound was unmistakable. Rhythmic, mechanical, and approaching fast.
Vertibirds.
His breath caught.
He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he turned toward the window. Outside, the sky had darkened with the shadow of spinning rotors. Not one, not two — at least five Vertibirds were descending upon Sanctuary, their angular frames slicing across the horizon like hawks closing in on prey. The lead bird began its descent toward the open field just east of the marketplace square — the others remained aloft, circling high, like vultures assessing a battlefield.
Within seconds, the peaceful murmur of the early morning was drowned by the roar of turbines and the wind kicked up by the descending craft. Townsfolk emerged from their homes and tents, shielding their eyes, alarmed and confused. Militia guards raised their rifles instinctively but didn't fire — not yet. They looked to the HQ, waiting on Sico's lead.
Sico was already moving.
He shrugged on his jacket, clipped his holotags to his belt, and strode out the door of the Freemasons HQ into the sharp wind of the landing craft. His boots struck the earth with purpose. Carla, already in the square, met him halfway with MacCready hot on her heels. Both looked tense but not panicked.
"You seeing what I'm seeing?" Carla asked, her voice raised over the roar.
"Brotherhood," Sico confirmed. "Eyes up. Let's not provoke them unless they do."
The Vertibird landed with a hydraulic hiss, dust swirling like a miniature sandstorm as its side hatch unlatched with a loud clunk.
Out stepped Paladin Danse — tall, broad, and unmistakable in his gleaming suit of modified T-60 power armor. The Brotherhood insignia was painted bold across his shoulder pauldron, though the usual plasma rifle was slung low at his back, not raised.
Behind him, two Brotherhood scribes stepped off, neither armed — an encouraging sign. One carried a sealed steel case, the other a datapad linked to some kind of long-range communications relay.
Danse stopped a few paces from Sico. Removed his helmet. His expression was calm. Watchful, yes — but not hostile.
"Sico," he said, voice cutting clean through the residual wind. "I come under direct order from Elder Maxson of the Brotherhood of Steel."
Sico nodded slowly, chest tight with focus. "Didn't expect you so soon. Or… in force."
Danse allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "Standard protocol. But this isn't a confrontation."
His eyes scanned the crowd gathering along the perimeter, Sanctuary's defenders watching cautiously from rooftops and balconies. The militia wasn't fully professional yet, but they looked unified — organized. Ready.
Danse turned back to Sico.
"The Brotherhood recognizes that a new political entity has risen — one that has military, economic, and territorial control of most of what used to be the Commonwealth's central corridor."
Sico nodded again. "The Freemasons Republic."
"Correct." Danse's voice didn't carry resentment. Just fact. "Elder Maxson has sent me to open formal dialogue. He wishes to discuss a possible alliance… or, if that is not desirable, then we must at least discuss a defined and peaceful border."
Carla glanced at Sico, her jaw tightening slightly. "That's… a hell of a first meeting offer."
Danse ignored her tone. "Elder Maxson is not blind. He knows your power is growing. He does not want unnecessary conflict. Neither do I."
Sico exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the steel-laden figure before him. "Come inside. Let's talk."
⸻
The door closed behind them with a heavy thunk. Carla, MacCready, and Sarah flanked Sico near the far wall, while Danse remained at the center table, his scribes seated quietly, beginning to unpack their case and datapads.
Danse remained standing.
"This isn't a formality, Sico," he began, folding his gauntleted hands behind his back. "The Brotherhood has eyes everywhere. We've watched you turn a disjointed militia into a centralized defense force. We've seen the artillery rolling out from The Castle. Seen your convoys moving from Somerville to the North Highway. We know you've organized agriculture and labor. Electricity. Logistics."
Sico didn't interrupt.
Danse's eyes met his.
"Elder Maxson respects that. And he understands that an ideological war — one based on total dominion — is no longer viable. The Institute fractured. The Enclave is gone. What remains must find a way to share what's left. Or risk annihilation."
Sarah nodded slightly from behind Sico, watching Danse with a guarded curiosity.
"You're here for an alliance," Sico said carefully. "What would that look like?"
Danse gestured to one of the scribes, who tapped a few commands onto their datapad. A small holomap of the Commonwealth flickered to life above the table, showing Brotherhood strongholds marked in red, and Freemason territory in deep green.
Danse continued. "We propose a mutual non-aggression pact. Shared intelligence on Institute movements. Coordinated defense of key infrastructure — namely the Relay ruins and key Vaults. We maintain control of the Prydwen and our Cambridge HQ. You retain the land from Lexington to Quincy, west to Oberland and south to Somerville."
He looked up.
"We also propose shared airspace access for Vertibird travel corridors. No interdictions. We'll coordinate all flight paths."
MacCready blinked. "You want to fly through our skies now?"
Danse didn't flinch. "For humanitarian missions. Supply drops. Recon only. Armed Vertibirds will seek explicit permission."
Sico leaned back slightly. "And if we decline the alliance?"
"Then we talk borders," Danse said. "Not war. But we will not tolerate your artillery pushing closer to our staging grounds. And we won't allow your militia into Brotherhood-held zones without notice."
Sarah stepped forward. "What about technology access? Are you willing to share any?"
Danse hesitated. "That depends. If a formal alliance is struck, Elder Maxson is willing to offer Brotherhood engineering blueprints — turrets, Vertibird schematics, energy-based weapons. In exchange, he wants something your Republic has in increasing supply."
Carla crossed her arms. "Let me guess. Resources."
"Materials. Recruits. And access to your medical advancements. We know your field medics have begun synthesizing stimpaks using hybrid techniques from Vault 81."
Sico considered that.
A long silence passed before he finally spoke.
"We'll need to take this to Congress. But in the meantime… I'm willing to open formal dialogue. You'll stay here. Under guard, but free to move within Sanctuary. You'll address Congress at the next full session. No decisions will be made until then."
Danse nodded once. "That's acceptable."
Sico stepped forward and extended a hand.
Danse stared at it a moment. Then removed his gauntlet and clasped it firmly.
"Welcome to the Republic," Sico said quietly.
The silence that followed the handshake lingered like a mist in the air. It wasn't uneasy — but it was thick with the weight of everything unspoken. The wariness. The shared history of mistrust. The bitter cost of years surviving in the ruins of what once was a nation.
Danse withdrew his hand, his expression unreadable, then offered a brief nod to the gathered Freemasons. His scribes carefully powered down the holomap and secured their datapads, closing the sealed case with a muted click.
Sico turned to Sarah and Carla. "Escort them to Guest Room 2. Keep a rotation of two guards on their floor. Not inside, just outside. We give them trust, but not a blank check."
Carla gave a curt nod and waved two militia officers over. MacCready, silent for once, watched Danse with narrowed eyes as he stepped away, pausing only to glance back at Sico. Danse's gaze held a kind of grim understanding, as though both men knew they were walking into something more dangerous than any open battle.
The hallway outside the council room was quieter now — the thrum of Vertibird engines fading as all but the lead bird peeled away and circled back eastward toward Cambridge. Only one Vertibird remained parked on the open field near the edge of Sanctuary, its pilot seated casually in the cockpit but clearly alert, helmeted head turning occasionally to monitor the square below.
Danse walked calmly behind Carla and the guards, his armored steps heavy but deliberate, the servos of his power armor humming softly with each move. The two scribes flanked him — silent, deferential, and almost eerily emotionless. It was clear they'd been drilled on protocol, even in diplomacy.
They reached the Guest Wing — a freshly refurbished house just two blocks from the town center, its interior restored with scavenged pre-War furniture, patched wiring, and reinforced glass. Sanctuary didn't boast luxury, but it was stable, functional, and clean. That alone put it above most Commonwealth dwellings.
Carla unlocked the door and motioned inside. "You're quartered here. The guards are posted outside — they'll check in every hour, and if you need anything, ask through them."
Danse inclined his head. "Understood."
He stepped into the house and removed his helmet again, setting it carefully on a nearby table. The scribes followed, unburdening themselves of their packs and gear. As Carla stepped back, the door was pulled shut behind them, leaving the trio in a brief hush.
Danse waited until the sound of retreating boots disappeared down the porch steps. Then, with slow, practiced motions, he activated the small radio unit embedded into the side of his armor.
A soft beep signaled the encrypted Brotherhood frequency.
Danse turned toward the corner of the room, stepping near the window but ensuring he remained out of sight. Static crackled through the line — then a low, clipped voice answered.
"This is Maxson."
Danse kept his voice low. "Sir. Contact has been established. I've made contact with Sico who now the leader of the so-called Freemasons Republic."
There was a brief pause, then Maxson's voice came through again, calm but clipped, as if he were speaking from the command deck of the Prydwen itself.
"Report."
Danse nodded to no one in particular. "Just as you anticipated. Sico has consolidated power. He's not just a warlord — he's created a functioning government. Civilian oversight. Militia enforcement. Coordinated production at The Castle. Even medical operations out of Vault 81."
"I know what they've built, Paladin. What of the meeting?"
"They accepted the terms of diplomatic dialogue. They're cautious. Guarded. But they see us as rational actors. Sico said himself that no decision could be made until their Congress convenes. He's bound by their constitution now."
A deep, satisfied exhale from Maxson. "Good. That's what we needed to hear."
Danse's jaw twitched slightly. "Sir?"
Maxson's voice dropped a note in tone — not cold, but hard-edged. Icy steel beneath military polish.
"This alliance is a tool, Danse. Nothing more. A deception. They think we're focused solely on the Institute — let them. Let them believe we're allies in rebuilding the world."
He paused, voice simmering now with conviction.
"But when Liberty Prime comes online — when his systems are fully recalibrated and the power core stabilized — we will no longer need deception. We'll burn the Institute to ashes… and then turn the full might of the Brotherhood on this Freemasons Republic."
Danse remained quiet. The faint hum of the room was the only sound.
"They're idealists," Maxson continued. "Holding hands and pretending the old world can be reborn. But we both know the truth, Danse. The Brotherhood is the only future. The only order capable of surviving the collapse and imposing stability. These Freemasons — they're a dream. And dreams die."
Danse's voice was flat, unreadable. "Understood, Elder."
Maxson didn't say goodbye. He simply clicked off the frequency.
Danse stood there a moment longer, the soft tick of a wall-mounted fan and the creak of wood settling around him. Then he turned back toward the room. His two scribes hadn't looked up — loyal, silent, complicit.
He sat on the edge of the old bedframe, placing his helmet beside him and resting his armored elbows on his knees. The glint of sunlight through the slats caught the Brotherhood insignia on his shoulder.
Outside, Sanctuary was returning to something resembling normal. The wind carried the faint clatter of tools, the creaking of carts, the murmur of human life trying to rebuild from ruin. Children peeked around corners to catch glimpses of the Vertibird. Traders returned to the square with cautious glances skyward. But beneath it all, an unease lingered like static in the air.
Inside the Freemasons HQ, Sico was pacing.
He'd removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, leaning over the central table with Sarah beside him. Carla stood by the open window, smoking, the occasional puff of smoke curling upward into the sunlight.
"Something doesn't sit right," Sarah said finally. "He was too prepared. That holomap? Those corridors? They've been planning this contact for daya."
Sico ran a hand through his hair. "They knew the Institute would fall. We've taken their place in terms of influence. It makes sense they'd come knocking."
"But why now?" Carla asked, exhaling slowly. "Why not after they destroyed the Institute themselves? Why come to us in peace?"
Sico looked at her. "Because they know they can't afford a war on two fronts."
"Or," Sarah added, "they're making sure we're not watching our backs when they decide to light the match."
The room fell into a thoughtful silence.
"I want the congressional delegates recalled," Sico said finally. "Tell them we have a motion for diplomatic proceedings. Danse will speak, but I want everyone briefed before that. We lay out the terms, vote on whether to proceed, and we monitor everything."
Sarah nodded. "And if the vote fails?"
"Then we go back to defined borders and standoff politics. Maybe it holds. Maybe it doesn't. But if they want peace, they'll get a chance to prove it."
"And if they want war?"
Sico looked out the window.
"Then we'll be ready."
——
The next four days passed in tense quiet.
Congressional delegates returned from as far as Greentop Nursery and Nordhagen, traveling via armored caravan and escorted supply routes. Preston and Ronnie Shaw led coordination drills at The Castle. Vertibird traffic from Cambridge remained minimal, sticking to high altitudes and making no unannounced appearances. Danse, for his part, remained impeccably courteous. He took meals in the square, walked the perimeter of Sanctuary under watch, and never once attempted to access restricted areas.
He even knelt to repair a child's broken Mr. Handy toy one afternoon — an act that sent the town gossip into overdrive.
But Sico knew better than to be lulled by surface charm.
The Congress chamber filled by late evening on the third day. Lanterns lit the high beams of the HQ hall, illuminating rows of wooden benches and the large central dais where Sico stood. Danse arrived with his scribes, helmet cradled under one arm, armor polished and unarmed — a symbol of his respect for the occasion.
The crowd hushed as Sico raised his hand.
"This session is now in order. Delegates of the Freemasons Republic — we are convened to hear the terms of a diplomatic proposal issued by the Brotherhood of Steel."
He turned slightly. "Paladin Danse, you may begin."
Danse stepped forward with military grace, his voice strong but respectful.
"I speak on behalf of Elder Maxson and the Eastern Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. We acknowledge the rise of your Republic. We propose a non-aggression pact, shared intelligence, and technological cooperation. We believe your presence stabilizes the region. We seek a peaceful coexistence built on mutual benefit."
The room buzzed with murmurs.
Sico let it settle before stepping forward.
"This Congress will now enter deliberation. All proposals and counter-proposals must be submitted in writing by dawn. A vote will be held in forty-eight hours."
Danse nodded and returned to his seat, face impassive.
But behind the steel-gray eyes, the gears were already turning.
Because Elder Maxson was right. When Liberty Prime walked again, when the might of the Brotherhood surged through the Wastes — this chamber, this democracy, this fragile dream — would crumble beneath the iron boots of the only power destined to rule the ashes.
________________________________________________
• 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:-