Fallout 1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

She was pushed down onto her knees before the throne. It was something distinctively tribal, with spears forming the back of the chair. It was a symbol of everything she vowed to fight. At the foot of the throne was a cyberdog sleeping gently, a red bull painted on its side.

The rope cut into her wrists like a blade. Not a quick cut either, but the kind that forms over a few hours and runs the risk of getting infected. But the getting an infection wasn't exactly on her list of priorities.

"Ursa Fremont," a malicious voice stated. In the pale moonlight she could just barely see him standing beside the throne a thin smile snaking across his face.

"Vulpes Inculta," she spat back. She should have known not to speak, but in case she wasn't aware her captor brought his fist across her face. She felt a molar loosen in the back of her mouth as the fist connected. When she regained her composure, she spat it onto the ground in a bloody puddle.

Her captor, who apparently changed his name to Draco, was about to strike her again when the man on the throne rose his hand and said, "Hold, Draco."

The man looked at her and she looked at him, but they were different kinds of looks. She glared at him, hoping she would have a chance to kill him. He looked at her with lust, thinking of her as a potential comfort slave.

"Who are you?" he asked, leaning in. "What do you want?"

"I want my country back," she replied, not daring to meet his eyes.

"No," he said, leaning back into his throne. "That's what your handler wants. "What do _you_ want?"

"You captured my sister," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I want her freed."

"And what do I get if I free her?" the man asked, suddenly much more intrigued.

She looked up and stared into his eyes. She had known how this was going to go long before she arrived. "You get me."

"Ah, but I already have you," he replied.

"Okay, Caesar," she rose to her feet. "Let's drop this charade. I came sneaking into your camp trying to find my sister. That much is obvious. And I'm clearly willing to replace her. That much is also obvious. Now I came in here ready to barter and try to trick you into releasing us both, but I now see that isn't going to happen."

"So what do you intend to do? What bargaining chip did you bring?"

"The last known location of your former soldier, Ulysses," she replied with hint of satisfaction.

Behind her, Draco's stoic demeanor broke as a look of shock tore across his face.

"Draco," said Caesar, "What's the matter?"

Finding his voice, he answered, "I know the courier called Ulysses. I can tell you whether or not she is speaking true."

"Very well," he said. "Woman, tell your tale."

"As you wish," she said, feigning humility. "He's in a place west of the Mojave, a valley called the Divide. If you recall, the Legion once sent its soldiers there trying to prevent the NCR from annexing it. The actions of the courier you now call Draco foiled that plan and destroyed the Divide. Ulysses was there when it happened. After that he traveled until he found out the courier was still alive. I don't know what his name was before, but now he calls himself Draco. Ulysses drew him back to the Divide, seeking vengeance for the lives lost.

"Draco fought through hell to get there, only to discover that your frumentarius had plans to wipe out both the Legion and the NCR, by way of nuclear weapons. Draco stopped the bombs, but was unable to pursue Ulysses afterward."

"And why didn't he tell me this himself?" Caesar asked, glaring at the new centurion.

"I suspect he's too humble. He also failed to tell you that he killed the Burned Man," she explained with a sly grin.

Draco was agog. She played Caesar like Nero played a fiddle. Even Vulpes wasn't this clever. Whoever this woman was, he needed to make a friend of her.

"Really?" Caesar asked, his bald head glittering in the moonlight. "Do the two of you have any proof to show me?"

"He does," she replied. When he didn't speak, she turned to him. "The pistol, numbnuts."

After realizing what she meant, he drew the pistol at his hip. It was a big deal for Caesar to let him bring his weapons into the tent, but Draco had certainly earned his trust. The pistol was a .45 auto. On its side, it said "A light shining in darkness," referring to some religious text that Graham probably liked.

"This belonged to the Burned Man," she said as Draco handed it to Caesar. He examined it and nodded.

"You've told me what my new centurion has done in my service, you've done nothing to earn your sister's freedom," he replied after returning the pistol to Draco.

"I've told you where to find a traitor and I've offered myself in her stead. A just ruler would say that was enough."

After a moment's consideration, he nodded his head in agreement. "You have a way with words. Draco, you will help her find her sister then return her to my chambers. Understood?"

"Ita vero," he replied, switching to Latin as he so often did.

He pulled her by her bonds through the tent flap where he was greeted by Roxie, a cybernetic police dog that he took as a companion. After some interesting events, cyberdogs swarmed the Mojave and the Legion took to using them in combat. They were tougher than mongrels and certainly lasted longer. Draco whistled to her and she followed at his heels, cocking her head curiously at the captive.

"I bet they're going to make you a legate for what you've done," she remarked as they walked toward the slave pits. "There are, what, four of those in the Legion?"

"Three," he replied, "two of whom are preparing to take Vegas."

"Right," she muttered. "That business at the damn sure sealed Vegas' fate."

He didn't deign to respond.

So she pushed a little more. "You were there, right? At the battle?"

"I led the first charge, then I cut open Oliver's throat." His voice didn't betray any emotion so she couldn't gather whether he was proud or ashamed of betraying his country.

"That bullet really fucked up your memory, didn't it?"

Once again, he was taken aback. Who was this girl who knew so much about him? "It was two bullets," he replied without answering her.

"You don't remember me at all?" she asked, giving into herself.

"Should I?" he asked, trying not to care.

But he did care. He knew her face. He had seen her before. That's why he followed her when he saw her sneaking around. It was only luck when he realized he had found the most renowned spy in the NCR. Surely it was Mars looking over him. But why couldn't he shake the feeling that they met?

"I've known you since we were kids," she replied, clearly reminiscing. "Don't tell me you forgot all the days we ran around the village pretending to be soldiers. Remember? Ursa. You couldn't have forgotten me. You couldn't have forgotten when we got married."

_Married?_ Draco couldn't begin to contemplate the thought that they had been married. They were already at the slave pits, literally pits dug into the ground where new slaves were thrown before they could be transported. "Where's your sister?" he asked as calmly as possible.

Without warning, she pulled his face toward hers. She placed her lips gently on his. It must have been a sight to see, a dark skinned woman with dirt in her hair kissing a fair skinned centurion renowned for his bravery and strength. She wore rags and he wore armor torn from a dozen dead enemies. The contrast would have startled anyone who saw them.

But nobody saw them.

He broke away, trying to figure out what was happening. "Don't," he muttered, shaking his head.

She gently pulled him away from the pits, to a private corner separated by a curtain. Draco knew these were where legionaries used the comfort slaves. The bed was rotten and filthy and the curtains provided almost no privacy.

"I told Caesar I don't know your name," she said as they sat on the bed.

"My name is Draco."

"I lied," she said, ignoring his objection. "I don't know why you took the name Draco, but I know your name is Bernard."

"Bernard," he muttered under his breath.

"I've been following you," she continued. "The NCR would call me a deserter for chasing after you while the Legion marched on the Mojave. I don't care what they say, I haven't given up on you."

"Why have you waited so long? Why didn't you tell me all this in Goodsprings?" he asked, clearly distraught at what she was telling him.

"You're a hard man to find, but you left a trail of bodies a mile wide behind you. I recognized your work and started following you." She laughed quietly, but not in a happy way. "You know if you hadn't gotten shot on that mission, the two of us would have secured Vegas for the NCR."

"Are you saying- are you saying I'm an NCR soldier?" he asked, agog once again.

"I'm saying you _were_ an NCR soldier," she replied. She was clearly getting desperate. "It doesn't matter now. We can leave, run away together."

"What about your sister?"

"I guess you forgot that too," she said. "I don't have a sister."

"Then why the charade? Why the game?"

"Because I knew you would catch me. I knew Caesar would want to keep me. And I knew you would get me alone." She smiled slyly. Eat your heart out, Vulpes.

"Give me one good reason not to tell Caesar what you've just told me," he demanded.

She pulled him in and kissed him again, and for a second her chaffed wrists didn't hurt. "There, now you have on reason." She pushed him onto the bed. "Let me give you another."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Why didn't he kill us?" Arcade asked nobody in particular. He poked the fire with a stick, causing a flurry of sparks to fly up.

"Maybe he isn't as evil as you think?" Veronica offered. She was sitting on the other side of the fire. "We should get some sleep."

"I can't sleep," Arcade replied. "I haven't been able to sleep in months."

Veronica sighed loudly and stared off into the night sky. "If I talk about it with you will you let me get a little sleep?"

"Why did he ever bother helping the NCR when he was going to betray them to the Legion?" Arcade asked. "And why did he travel with me when he knew I would leave him?"

"Arcade, I don't know if he told you this, but he was in love with you," Veronica replied. She was fiddling with her power fist, an old habit she would never be able to unlearn.

"I know," he said, falling back onto his cot. "But if he really loved me then why did he side with the Legion?"

"You know, when I first met Draco I thought he was a very magnetic person. On top of being absurdly charismatic, he was a great fighter, and cunning tactician, and scientifically minded. A true renaissance man. It was only a matter of time before he got involved in politics, and whoever he sided with was going to win.

"When I brought him to the Brotherhood, I almost thought we might be able to recruit him. He helped us repair the bunker and even deposed our High Elder. And as soon as he learned how to use power armor, he started dropping pulse grenades. Do you know what pulse grenades do to someone in power armor?"

Arcade just shook his head. He used to have a set of power armor but he had never used it, let alone been hit with a pulse grenade while using it.

"It fries the circuitry. The electrical pulse overcharges the armor and whoever's wearing it," she explained. "It's a terrible way to die."

"But you still don't hate him?"

"Before he activated the self-destruct sequence for the bunker he told me where to find an old friend. I couldn't bring myself to fight him," she explained. "He showed me that the Brotherhood wasn't going to change and that they would be violent toward anyone who posed a threat. See, I had grown up with only the Brotherhood's perspective's to go by. He showed me that there are other people with other attitudes, and their beliefs are just as valid as mine."

"He joined an army of rapists and slavers, and you're going to say their beliefs are as valid as yours," Arcade replied incredulously.

"Sure, they aren't great beliefs, but they aren't invalid," she replied. "Besides, by the end I wasn't even part of the Brotherhood."

"I guess," he muttered.

"Do you think Caesar will let the Followers go?" Veronica asked.

"He was one of us," Arcade considered. "And Draco seemed sympathetic to our cause. Wait, you said he told you where to find someone. Is that where we're going?"

"Well I don't know where you're going," Veronica replied with a smile. "But I'm going to find her."

"Who was she?" Arcade asked, suddenly more interested.

Veronica smiled and started drawing in the sand with her finger. "A friend, I guess."

"Oh, one of those friends," he replied, knowing exactly what she meant.

Before they could continue their discussion, and explosion went off in the distance, followed by gunfire and shouting.

"I thought the fighting ended two days ago," Arcade said. The battle was off in the distance, too far for them to be hurt.

"It looks like the Legion and some Fiends. They probably want to solidify their holdings before they take Vegas," Veronica surmised.

"Why didn't they take Vegas right after the battle?"

"Probably so they can take on the rest of the wasteland first. It makes sense if they control the trade routes before they control he city. Besides, Caesar is a peacock, he wants to do it ceremoniously."

"We should move south," Arcade said, "before the fighting moves down to the Outpost."

"Good idea."

They walked the rest of the night, avoiding any chance of danger. Eventually they ran into some other travelers, mostly from Crimson Caravan. Allegedly Draco had attacked their Mojave base some months ago, and it was just a matter of time before they pulled out entirely.

The road was a broken, shamble of a thing. A few months ago it had been swarming with Deathclaws and gangsters, but Draco had seen them leave. The travelers had just passed through Goodsprings when their luck ran out.

"Halt, profligates," a man barked out from the darkness. Legionaries moved in from all sides of the caravaneers. They all drew their weapons. Veronica equipped her power fist and Arcade grabbed his plasma pistol.

"Lower your weapons or you will be killed," the voice commanded. The owner of the voice stepped forward. He was a heavily built man with a plumed helmet on his head. His armor was painted black with a golden bull on his chest. He held a minigun in his hand, a weapon strong enough to tear down a dozen soldiers. "My name is Gaius Magnus, Legatus of Caesar's Legion. You will be brought back to Caesar for judgment"

It only took a second for Arcade to fire the first shot. It tore through a legionary, instantly cauterizing the wound and killing the soldier. Bullets flew from and blades slashed, and blood filled the sand.

"Run!" Arcade shouted just before a fist crossed his face, knocking him to the ground.

Veronica took his warning and pushed through the line of soldiers, running as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn't pay attention to where she was, she barely even noticed the other women running with her. Apparently the men of the group were going to distract the legionaries so the women could escape.

They made it to what seemed to be a natural cave, a small wooden door covering the entrance. Wasting no time, Veronica punched down the door and ran in.

It was a den of prospectors, all armed to the teeth should they have to fight their new guests. "Who're yew," one woman asked, aiming a shotgun at Veronica's chest.

"Refugees," she explained. "Hiding from the Legion."

The woman slung the rifle back over her shoulder. The rest of the prospectors held their guns steady, not yet ready to trust the strangers.

"Why shou' we trust yew," she asked. As she moved forward Veronica could smell the whiskey on her breath.

"Because we haven't killed you yet," she replied, quickly losing patience. "So you better nut up or shut up."

Just when Veronica thought she was about to die, the woman started laughing. "I like yew," she said. "My name's Josephine. Jus' call me Joe."

After a small discussion it was agreed that Veronica and the other refugees could stay for a night but had to move on the next day. It didn't seem like the Legion was pursuing them, so it wasn't a problem.

Arcade wasn't so lucky.

He and the others were rounded up and thrown in a cage along with other new slaves. He had taken a few blows to the head, but he was far from the worst of the group. Half of them were dead and a handful were crippled. The legionaries taunted them, saying they would become slaves or be crucified.

They were in sight of the Mojave Outpost, the last NCR stronghold. Arcade considered trying to break out, but thought better of it when he considered the throbbing pain in his leg.

The man who called himself Gaius Magnus was ordering his soldiers around, directing them to erect a makeshift fortress. He was speaking half in English and half in Latin, which suited Arcade just fine. He figured out that they were planning on assaulting the Outpost while Lanius and Draco took Vegas.

Dread filled in Arcade's stomach as he realized that the Mojave's fate was sealed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Draco rolled out of bed. Not the torn up slave bed where he'd spent the night with Ursa, but the cot he had in his tent on Fortification Hill.

"Draco," a legionary beckoned. "Lord Caesar awaits."

After equipping his armor, Draco made his way into Caesar's tent. He left Roxie outside and was greeted by the Praetorian Guard. Caesar was in the back portion of the tent, where his bed and personal study were.

"Did you resolve that issue with the woman?" he asked, not looking up from his book.

The two were in the only truly private area of the Fort, so Draco had to assume that something big was happening. "I did," he replied, leaving out the fact that she didn't actually have a sister and that she was his wife. "May I ask, what do you intend to do with her?"

After sleeping with her, Draco couldn't force himself to care about the woman more than he would any other slave. It may be true that she was his wife, but he couldn't remember. Regardless of all this, he felt a twinge of guilt when Caesar replied, "I've made her my personal bed slave. She is rather ravishing."

Draco knew from that sentence that Caesar had already had her. She was probably somewhere in the tent too, unless the Praetorian Guard moved her somewhere else.

"Lord Caesar, why have you summoned me?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"I have decided that after the battle today, I will no long lead the Legion," he replied solemnly. "You will take my place as Praetor of the Legion."

Draco was incredulous, he couldn't understand the possibility that his leader might abdicate. "Lord Caesar, if I become Praetor, then what will you be?"

Caesar had clearly been planning this lecture for some time. He stood up, cleared his throat, and began speaking. "As you know, my Legion has thus far been a mostly nomadic army, hardly a true nation. My entire population is enslaved, our pantheon only has one deity, and we lack a capital. In order to make the transition from tribe to nation, all three of these things need to change. I want you to help me in that. You will be my closest advisor when I become the Emperor of Pax Romana."

"Lord Caesar," Draco began, "I'm not sure what qualifies me to serve as your closest advisor."

"Well let's see," said Caesar. "You wiped out every foe of ours in the Mojave that couldn't be turned into a friend. You crippled the NCR, both militarily and civically. You saved my life surgically. You tracked down and assassinated my old legate. And you secured Hoover Dam for me. After you take Vegas for me today, there will be no question about your competence as a leader and as an advisor."

"As you wish," he replied, somewhat taken aback. He hadn't even realized how much he had done in service of Caesar.

"After we today and establish a new Pax Romana, I want you to help me forge an empire the world will never forget," said Caesar and he clasped his comrade on the shoulder.

They discussed the minutiae of what would ensue that day. Lanius had wiped out what was left of Camp McCarran in the night and would make his way north of the city to obliterate an NCR camp there.. Gaius Magnus, the newest legate of the Legion, would move half of his forces in from the south. The remainder would stay and keep an eye on the Mojave Outpost. The Great Khans would prove their worth and move in from the west. Draco and his cohort were assigned to march through Freeside where he was known and could serve diplomatically.

Draco assured Caesar that he could pacify Freeside peaceably, and that there would be no need for bloodshed so long as the Omertas had taken the Strip. Caesar intended to take the newly repaired monorail into the city.

"And you're sure the Kings won't put up a fight?" Caesar asked.

"The King knows me personally, and while he wants an independent Vegas he won't throw his men into slavery if he knows they can live free. He'll believe me when I tell him his men won't be slaves."

"Good," he replied.

"But if I may ask, why the change in policy?" asked Draco. "Why have you enslaved every other group until now?"

"Look at it like this," Caesar explained. "If every member of an empire is a slave, then there's no room for improvement. The best one can hope to be is a better slave. I want freemen and freewomen throughout my country, and while the women will mostly be wives and paid servants and such, the men can aspire to be Senators and Governors and Military Tribunals. Absolute slavery worked for a nomadic army, but an empire needs a true society."

Draco recognized the rhetoric. He had been feeding Caesar this same Imperial ideology for months. The man hadn't even known it, but his new advisor had been feeding him knowledge and wisdom from ancient empires the entire time. It was only luck that he had taken to them on the eve of his new nation.

Caesar also revealed a gift for Draco. It was armor, forged by the greatest smiths in the East. It was similar to the armor Lanius wore, but it was sharper, in that it had more spikes. The black metal was twisted into cruel shapes meant to invoke fear in the enemy. It was certainly the most effective armor Draco had ever owned, but what made it his favorite was the helmet. It was carved expertly into the likeness of a dragon, though most might mistake it for a Deathclaw.

After a few more heavy political discussions, Draco set out for Freeside. He marched through the morning in his new armor, with his cohort at his back. Most were with him at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, and a few even knew him from other encounters. At least three of them had been lovers and half of them had seen him in combat. But all of them knew the tales of how he single handedly wiped out the Brotherhood of Steel, or how he once took on an entire NCR camp at once. They still gossiped about how he killed the NCR President.

But they knew better than to talk while on a march. So they walked silently across the broken gravel, New Vegas waiting in the distance. They arrived just shy of noon and marched through the empty streets of Freeside. The people were all hiding, and Draco couldn't blame them. Their reputation preceded them.

They passed the empty remains of the Old Mormon Fort, where the Followers of the Apocalypse had once healed the sick and helped the poor. Caesar had allowed them to leave the Mojave before he took Vegas, out of respect for his old tribe.

When the approached the King's School of Impersonation, the King was already waiting for them outside. He had a small army behind him, although they weren't a proper army. They only had pistols and submachine guns, and not a single one of them had armor of any kind. And it wasn't just Kings either. There were random Freesiders who might otherwise hate the Kings. They were all standing together against a threat bigger than their feud.

"So, I guess you want us to surrender," the King said as he raked a comb through his thoroughly gelled hair.

"Actually, I don't want you to do anything," Draco replied. "I want the people of Outer Vegas to go about their business as usual."

"You expect to lead an army through our streets and then tell us to go about business as normal?" the King incredulously asked.

"I do," Draco responded with a nod. "You wanted the NCR out of your backyard, and this is the alternative. Caesar doesn't want a war with Freeside. No, he wants subjects to rule, not corpses to bury." He was now speaking loudly enough for the entire crowd to hear. "I've spoken to Emperor Caesar, and he has assured me that the people of Vegas need not fear slavery, only criminals will be enslaved. While I could not convince him to allow chems in the city, he will tolerate the civilian use of alcohol. Those will be the only changes you see in your life from this point onward. Legionaries will police the streets to protect Emperor Caesar's subjects.

"You all know me. You know how I killed the Van Graffs. You were there firsthand when I removed the NCR from your land. I've stood with Freeside since I climbed out of that shallow grave. And I assure you, Caesar has no interest in harming you."

His words garnered murmurs of uncertain approval from the crowd. Most of the people seemed to agree with him but were too afraid of what others might say if they spoke. So they remained stoically silent.

Without a word, Draco and his cohort moved through the now docile crowd. They approached the gates, ignoring the destroyed Securitrons that once guarded it. The gates opened wide for them, and once again Draco was on the Strip.

"Good to see ya again," Nero greeted him, cigarette in hand. "Hardly recognized ya in that." He was referring to the draconic armor Draco was wearing.

A dozen or so Omertas stood behind him, machine guns in hand. The Strip was quieter than Draco had ever seen it. What was once a city of vice and abuse was going to become the capital of an empire.

"Is the Strip secure?" the Praetor asked, ignoring his comment.

"It is," he replied with a smile.

"And the other Families?" Draco asked, making sure his allies had cooperated.

"I gotta tell ya, kid, I never thought I'd be workin' with them. But you got them on our side just in time. Soldier boys at the Embassy didn't know what him 'em."

"Good," he replied. "And the civilians?"

"Hidin' in the casinos."

"And what will we do with the casinos?" Draco pondered aloud.

"What-da-ya mean by that?" Nero asked, dropping the cigarette.

"Caesar hates gambling. Oh well, that's a problem for another day."

Nero was just now beginning to understand the gravity of the deal he had made. But before he could try to argue with the Praetor, he was on his way.

Caesar and his men marched toward Draco and his. The two met directly in front of the Lucky 38. Draco took a knee, as did all the other legionaries. The Omertas took the hint and did the same.

"It all went fine, I presume?" Caesar asked.

"It did, Emperor," Draco replied. "And now you have your palace."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The following weeks passed in a bloody haze. Praetor Draco directed Lanius to assault NCR territory, pushing back passed the Mojave Outpost. Meanwhile, word spread throughout the East that the Legion had evolved in Pax Romana, a standing empire with Caesar as its Emperor. Life changed for everyone. Many slaves were freed, but just as many remained enslaved. The new freemen became an upper class of sorts, taking civilian municipal positions under military guidance.

The Legion still existed of course, as the military of Pax Romana. It remained basically the same, while a complex society was established by Caesar and Draco. Institutions like marriage and religion became important. They created a complicated pantheon to supplement Mars' role in society as a war god. Temples were quickly erected and became centers of religious focus.

In Vegas itself, change was evident. Barracks were erected throughout Outer Vegas and while the people did not appreciate the Pax Romana flags over their city, they didn't mind the additional security. The casinos on the Strip were permitted to sell food and alcohol. They could have prostitutes and shows and hotel rooms. They just couldn't allow gambling.

The Families didn't like the dent in their income, but they put up with it because of all the perks they got. They could individually exercise far more freedom than they could under Mr. House. In return for their loyalty, Caesar made them the first of the "Families" that would decorate the upper class of Pax Romana.

And for those prosperous two weeks, there was peace. Then the drama began.

"She's with child," Caesar muttered as he crushed an apple in his hand. They were sitting in the Penthouse of what had once been the Lucky 38. It had since been renamed the Palace. Draco's personal quarters were near the barracks in Freeside, and his old Suite was now occupied by Ursa, with whom Caesar was enamored.

"That's good," Draco ventured. He hadn't spoken to Ursa since the night he met her, but he wasn't overly concerned with what happened to her. She was in the past.

"How is this good? What good does the child of a slave do me?" Caesar demanded, getting angrier with each word.

"You are the Emperor now. You need to have a line of ascendency. If you die, Pax Romana falls apart. You need to leave behind a strong leader, and how better than with a son?"

"What if it's a girl? What do I do then?"

"Have another," Draco replied, drawing on his knowledge of medieval politics. "Have three or four or ten or twenty. Have backups for your backups. Because if you die, and your son dies, who will take the throne?"

"You would," said Caesar.

"And I assure you, I do not want the throne."

"But she's a slave. By our laws he will be a slave too."

"Free her," Draco suggested. "Marry her. Put her in the Penthouse and have another dozen kids with her. Teach them the art of ruling. Have Lucius teach them how to fight and make Vulpes teach them tactics."

"And if they're girls?"

"Marry them off to forge alliances. We are not the only nation in this world and while Pax Romana will one day conquer them all, we will not do so without alliances. When you want to invite another tribe into the fold but you don't want to kill any of them, send a daughter to marry their chief or his son."

"I suppose," Caesar replied, stroking his brow nervously. It was incredible to Draco. This was an Emperor feared across the wastes. He was renowned for his savagery and leadership. And here he was, unmanned at the thought of fatherhood.

"I'll see about finding a physician to tend to her while she's pregnant," Draco said. "I assure you, it will all be fine.

He made the walk back through Freeside. It was a very different place. Legionaries patrolled the streets and bonfires burned in the day. Caesar had issued a decree that any chems or NCR propaganda found would be burned. So far the fires hadn't stopped.

The streets were lined with crucifixes, and painful reminder to the people of Vegas to obey their new Emperor. Most of the criminals were chem addicts or would-be revolutionaries. In one alley Draco passed he saw a line of men being whipped by a decanus. He almost felt bad for them. Their way of life had been uprooted and they had no way to cope with the consequences of what they thought was normal.

He passed the Old Mormon Fort. It had been turned into barracks. Most of the legionaries there were the veterans of his cohort, which made sense because it was where his quarters were. It was likely the safest place in the city for the new Praetor.

His first concern in the hunt for a physician was whether he should be a slave or a freeman. He was pondering this when he returned to his quarters. A dozen names came to mind, but most of them were certainly dead. Slave doctors wouldn't be very good or particularly loyal, but a freeman working for coin would be much more inclined.

"Atticus," he called, summoning the legionary who served as his aide.

"Yes, Praetor?" he asked in Latin, standing at attention.

"The captives that Magnus took, have they all been sorted?" Draco was referring to the slaves Gaius Magnus brought with him to the city. A court had been assembled to determine which among them would be slaves, which would become legionaries, and which might go free.

The young men who had not yet reached puberty were all chosen to become legionaries. They would be trained to the breaking point and become the new crop of soldiers the Legion might one day need. Most of the women were freed, but the younger ones had been sold as bedslaves. Every now and then someone was chosen for slavery simply because it seemed like they'd be good servants. But many were now freemen, and certainly a few of them were doctors.

"They have," he replied.

"I need you to find me a physician, there was certainly one or two in that lot. Send them here when you find them. Promise more gold than they can carry."

"Right away," he said before scurrying off.

Draco looked on his desk and found a note waiting for him. He assumed Atticus forgot to tell him and started reading it.

His heart sank. It was something he never could have expected. Just four words handwritten on a piece of scrap paper, but it was enough to terrify him beyond what he thought was possible.

_I'm home now, Courier._


End file.

Fallout, Drama, Romance