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"So there's the contract... Lord Legate. You can call one of your slaves to verify that everything is in order," said the Sheriff of Pecos Colony, visibly uncomfortable having to make deals with me.
I looked at her from behind the helmet of my power armor.
"What makes you think I can't read?" I asked, my voice metallic and distorted by the helmet, as I grabbed the contract with my armored gauntlets and began reviewing it myself.
The Sheriff, somewhat embarrassed, responded with a slight nod. "Most of the Legion can't read... only a small group, usually those we've sold our brahmin to."
As I read through it, I reflected on what she said. It was true that not everyone in the Legion knew how to read. Administration and logistics, fundamental yet often overlooked tasks, were usually entrusted to just one man: the decanus. He was responsible for keeping accounts, managing supplies, and ensuring resources reached where they were needed. Now I understood better why decanus were so valuable and held such power, to the point they could even silence a lesser centurion if they reported directly to the primus pilus.
"Everything seems to be in order," I finally said, my voice echoing through the power armor's helmet. "Twenty thousand heads of brahmin," I repeated, sliding the contract back toward her. "Now, how much do you charge to take care of them? I'll make use of them if I encounter logistical issues with the supplies coming from the north."
The Sheriff looked at me, still uneasy but realizing she had no choice but to comply with the agreement. "The cost will depend on how long they need to stay here. We can maintain them for a time," she replied, trying to maintain her composure.
"For the duration of the campaign in Mexico," I responded, my tone implacable. "The Legion cannot afford supply interruptions, especially not now as we expand beyond this territory."
She nodded, but as I was about to leave, she spoke again. "Can we really trust the Legion's word?"
I stopped and stared at her for a few seconds, letting the tension settle in the air.
"You're speaking to someone who is also tributary of the Legion, Sheriff," I began, my voice cold and calculated through the power armor's helmet. "Not long ago, Legate Lanius gave me the opportunity to be a tributary, and I forced my way into the Legion. The Legion doesn't care what you do as long as you're essential to its campaigns. With the sale of brahmin, the Legion will have many reasons to keep its word. You'll remain valuable as long as those brahmin remain useful."
I paused, and with a slow gesture, I pointed to the bull insignia on my armor, the imposing symbol of Caesar's power.
"However, you'll face challenges selling in the future," I continued, my tone without sympathy. "Purebred cattle are now being sold in the north... those carrying the Legion's standard. Goods that are desired by the wealthiest within our structure. That means you'll soon have to find new clients, as competing with the quality that tribe offers won't be easy."
Her gaze faltered slightly, knowing what I said was true. Pecos Colony had long depended on its brahmin for trade, but the emergence of superior products with the Legion's seal threatened to shift the balance of commercial power.
"Fulfill your part of the deal, and the Legion will honor its word," I concluded, with the certainty of someone well-versed in Caesar's rules of power. "But don't forget, the world changes, and the Legion always has the final say."
Finally, I left the small town building, noting how modest it was, considering the wealth of these ranchers from selling brahmin. Meat, a scarce and valuable commodity, had become the foundation of their fortune. In the Wasteland, acquiring quality food was nearly impossible, except through the dangerous hunt of wild animals, a task only the bravest and most skilled legionaries dared to take on. However, it never hurt to have more food available if something went wrong.
My supply lines in Pecos Colony were stable, and the geographic advantage was clear. Directly to the north was my settlement, and with the river running along the territory, we could use large barges to transport vehicles, power armor, and weapons without setbacks. It was an efficient route that gave us crucial strategic control over the region.
The real challenge lay to the south, where the Republic of Rio Grande watched every one of our moves with growing interest. They had tried to take advantage of our conquests, seeking to annex everything the Legion could seize. Fortunately, I acted swiftly with precise attacks. With Sheila, I was fortunate. If I hadn't captured her and forced her to negotiate, the Republic would likely have already intervened, giving its president the justification needed to mobilize his army against us.
The Republic, though relatively calm until now, had begun to prepare. Reports from the frumentarii indicated that more people were enlisting in their army. The number of patrols on the borders and crossings of the multiple rivers had increased, showing that tension was rising. They knew the Legion's expansion was inevitable, and their response was to strengthen themselves.
This placed me in an extremely complex situation. With only three thousand five hundred legionaries at my disposal, I was at a numerical disadvantage. The Republic of Rio Grande could mobilize up to ten times more soldiers than I could, and facing them on their territory, with them in a defensive position, went against everything the manuals of war recommended. Typically, you needed two to three times more soldiers than the enemy to successfully attack under such conditions, but I was far from that.
That's why we needed to play on the Republic's greatest weakness: its internal stability. One of the most important states in the Republic of Rio Grande, a small part of Texas, was caught in a secession process due to growing tensions between its state leader and the Republic's president. These tensions didn't just arise from political differences but also from a significant linguistic barrier: in that part of Texas, English predominated, while most of the Republic spoke Spanish, though the influence of English remained due to the U.S. invasion of Mexico decades earlier.
The stability of the Republic of the Rio Grande was faltering, and that instability represented an opportunity the Legion couldn't afford to pass up. A small part of Texas, which had long been a key weapons supplier, found itself in a political conflict with the central government. The main reason was that the money from arms sales was being used to support senators who blocked any attempts at legislation to regulate the sale of weapons in the Republic. But the situation worsened when the president made a drastic and controversial decision: he made all political donations illegal unless they came from the donor's electoral district. This blow wiped out the power of the mighty Texan Arms Association, weakening its influence over national politics.
For this small part of Texas, the most significant blow was the explicit ban on selling weapons to Caesar's Legion. They knew that the Legion, with its expansionist campaigns, posed an imminent threat to the Republic, but they were also aware that cutting off the weapons supply would cost them valuable income. Ironically, it was thanks to this very state that I had obtained the rifle I was gifted at the start of my campaigns. A Texan rifle, known for its precision and value, had been part of my gear ever since.
This is where we came in. I knew there was a clear numerical disparity between the Republic and the Texan Arms Association. The Republic had a much larger and more organized army, but if I could get Todd, the leader of the association, to organize a defense that would draw the Republic's army into battle on favorable ground, my legionaries—much better equipped and trained—could inflict devastating damage. A well-planned defensive battle would be perfect: not only would it put the Texans in an advantageous position, but it would allow the Legion to take advantage of the chaos to destabilize the Republic from within.
The frumentarii were already in motion, working in the shadows to secure a meeting with Todd. I knew he must be under tremendous pressure, caught between the desire for independence in his small Texan state and the threat of the Republic's army. It was the perfect time to intervene and offer a solution that, in his desperation, he would be hard-pressed to refuse.
If I could convince Todd that the Legion could tip the scales in his favor, we would have a golden opportunity. Ideally, he would organize a defense that would divert the attention of the Republic's army, while my forces intervened strategically.
As the days passed, I received constant reports on the state of the conquered territories and the progress of our operations. Everything seemed to be going according to plan: slaves were being efficiently sent north, captured rebels were executed without mercy, and the wild beasts that roamed our lands were being meticulously hunted down by the legionaries. Peace and order were being restored, but more importantly, the Legion's absolute control was being strengthened with every action.
Progress on the construction of new fortifications was also going well. These defenses would be crucial, not only for consolidating our control but also as a base for future expansions. Once completed, I could request Caesar to move the garrisons we still had in the rear to the front lines, freeing my men from the tedious work of guarding all the territory. That would allow us to concentrate our forces on the upcoming confrontations without leaving the already conquered territories exposed.
Additionally, managing the acquisition of supplies remained a key priority. Ensuring a constant flow of weapons, ammunition, and food was essential to keep morale high and the Legion's operations running smoothly.
The campaign was taking shape, but there was still much to be done. As tensions continued to escalate with the Republic of the Rio Grande and Texas, and the frumentarii continued working to secure the meeting with Todd, we needed to assess whether it was feasible to exploit the current situation to weaken the Republic economically and militarily. The frumentarii were already providing information about the internal tensions plaguing the Republic, particularly its relationship with the state of Texas—a focal point of instability that could become our greatest ally if handled properly. However, even with this data, there were unknowns that could decisively influence our strategy.
The main dilemma was whether the Republic could be quickly brought down by exploiting its internal cracks and fomenting chaos from within, or whether I would need to focus on a series of prolonged attacks along the border, waging a slow war of attrition that could last months, perhaps even years. To achieve the latter, I would have to continue gathering the legionaries that Caesar sent me weekly. However, that flow of reinforcements wasn't guaranteed, and the situation to the east, at Hoover Dam, could change everything.
If Legate Malpais achieved a decisive victory at the dam, Caesar could divert all reinforcements to the east, concentrating the Legion's resources on the more urgent campaign. Both Lanius and I could be summoned to pursue new conquests, leaving the campaign against the Republic of the Rio Grande behind. In such a case, Caesar would send us to capture slaves and defeat weaker, more disorganized enemies—those who would be easier to subdue without the need to deploy a large army.
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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
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"You will enter the city and act normally, Legate, posing as a businessman looking to purchase weapons, supposedly to transport them to the northeast due to the growing super mutant presence in the area. Here's your documentation and some bottle caps to give the appearance of wealth," one of the frumentarii said as we rode in a half-destroyed vehicle down a neglected road.
"Todd agreed to have a chat with an envoy from Lord Caesar, under the pretense of borrowing legionaries. This will be your opportunity to talk to him about kneeling before Caesar," another frumentarius continued. "Don't wander around the city too much. You must appear busy and go straight to your meeting with Todd. Remember, agents of the Republic of the Rio Grande are in the area, ensuring the weapon factories don't send equipment to prohibited places like the Legion."
The third frumentarius pointed to a rundown building at the edge of the road, with a garage rusted by time. "We've arrived. Legate, take that motorcycle and change in that building. The clothes you need are ready, along with the documentation. Count on Lord Caesar's blessing in this plan."
Before I got out of the vehicle, I paused for a moment and asked with a mix of surprise and suspicion, "Does Caesar know about the plan?"
The second frumentarius replied calmly, but with the authority characteristic of Caesar's spies. "With all due respect, Legate, we are Caesar's eyes and ears. We report movements directly to Vulpes Inculta, and he informs Lord Caesar personally."
I got out of the vehicle silently, letting the information settle. If Caesar knew, failure was not an option—it was an obligation. This plan had to be executed with precision. The situation was delicate: entering a city under surveillance by the Republic of the Rio Grande, meeting with Todd without raising suspicion.
I glanced at the rusty motorcycle waiting for me in the garage, along with the civilian clothes I needed to wear for the disguise. "Alright," I muttered to myself. The operation had to be flawless. The words I would use needed to be as sharp as the weapons I hoped Todd would agree to supply to the Legion.
I changed into a business suit—fitted but modest—elegant enough to appear as a man of means, but worn just enough to suggest I had been traveling for a long time. The wide-brimmed hat covered my face just enough to avoid drawing attention, while still allowing me to appear confident. I carried a functional-looking briefcase, which contained the documents and bottle caps given to me by the frumentarii, reinforcing the facade of a businessman seeking opportunities.
The dusty, modest motorcycle added to the story of a traveling merchant who had journeyed long distances to get here. The visible weapon in the briefcase and the dust on my suit completed the image: someone seasoned by the road but with enough resources to enter negotiations.
Once everything was in order, I mounted the motorcycle and headed for the meeting point. The road posed no significant difficulties, aside from a few potholes and debris I skillfully avoided. However, one small incident required attention: a group of raiders was scavenging their latest victim. It only took one precise shot to eliminate one of them, and the rest scattered, realizing I wouldn't be an easy target. I didn't linger and continued on my way.
After about an hour of travel, I finally reached my destination: the power center of the Texan Arms Association. The level of control here was evident. Local authorities were inspecting every traveler entering the city, a security measure that highlighted the tense times.
I patiently lined up with the others, watching as some were occasionally arrested for unknown reasons. My turn came at last, and a weary-looking officer gestured for me to approach.
"Good morning, reason for your visit?" he asked in a routine tone.
"Business," I responded without hesitation.
"What kind of business?" he asked again, now examining my documents more closely.
"Buying weapons," I responded with the same calmness.
"Where are you coming from?" the officer asked, raising his gaze to study me more carefully.
"Lone Star, north of Texas," I replied firmly.
"And you came by land? What about the super mutants?" he asked, surprised and visibly intrigued by my statement.
"It wasn't difficult to avoid them—they're not exactly the swiftest or smartest," I said with a calm, almost nonchalant tone.
The officer nodded slowly, as if still processing the information. "I see… Are you carrying any weapons?" he asked again, this time directing a glance at the briefcase I carried.
"A rifle," I replied with the same serenity.
He signaled one of his men to inspect it. Upon opening the briefcase and examining the rifle, the officer noted something and remarked, "You're missing some rounds."
"Bandits on the road. I killed one," I responded calmly, not giving it much importance.
The officer stared at me for a moment, then nodded in understanding. "I'll notify the police. Take your weapon. Proceed with your business; I won't hold you up any longer," he said finally, handing back the rifle and motioning for me to pass through.
I entered the city and moved through the streets calmly. The meeting with Todd was set for 2:00 PM, and I had arrived a little early, leaving me some time before the encounter. I decided not to stray too far from the administrative buildings, staying close to the city center and avoiding drawing unnecessary attention.
As I walked, something caught my eye: there was a surprising number of people begging on the streets. Men and women, some in worn-out clothing, others barely covered in rags, held out their hands for any help they could get. This didn't fit the image I had expected from a city that prided itself on being the power hub of the Texan Arms Association.
Poverty and desperation were clearly present, making me realize that the economic situation in Texas was worse than I had anticipated. With the restrictions imposed by the Republic of the Rio Grande, it was evident that the flow of income from arms sales had drastically decreased, affecting not only the elite of the association but the population as a whole.
Curiosity got the better of me, and despite the frumentarii's advice, I decided to head to the industrial district. I knew it was risky, but I wanted to see firsthand how the weapons factories operated and how controlled the situation was. Keeping a low profile, I made my way through the streets toward the district, avoiding curious glances and blending in with workers who seemed to be coming and going from the factories.
When I arrived, I saw a scene that contrasted sharply with the rest of the city. In the industrial district, several soldiers from the Republic of the Rio Grande closely monitored the loading of supply crates onto trucks. Their presence was imposing, and they seemed alert to any unusual movements. The trucks were carrying shipments of weapons, likely destined for other parts of the Republic or the few clients still permitted to purchase.
As I observed carefully from my strategic vantage point, I noticed something significant: most of the factories still operating were largely autonomous, relying on a series of outdated robots. These old machines had been patched up to keep things running, but it was clear that the production lines were far from full capacity.
Deciding not to linger and draw unnecessary attention, I returned to the city center and waited patiently for the scheduled meeting with Todd Howitzer.
When the time came, I made my way to the headquarters of the Texan Arms Association, an imposing building that dominated the administrative district. Walking confidently up to the reception, I greeted a young receptionist who was busy with some paperwork. Leaning in slightly, I gave her a practiced smile.
"Hello, I'd like to ask if Todd Howitzer is available for a meeting. I'm interested in purchasing some weapons."
The receptionist looked up, clearly surprised by my direct request. "Oh... hi... I'm not sure if Mr. Todd is available. His schedule is usually quite full."
Sensing her hesitation, I decided to apply a bit more pressure, without losing the friendly tone. Leaning in a little closer, I kept my smile. "Could you double-check? I've traveled quite a ways to be here. It'd be a real shame not to meet him."
She hesitated for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly over the keyboard as she searched through the schedule. "Let me see... oh... it looks like there's an opening. Would you like me to set the meeting for now?"
"Perfect," I replied, keeping my expression warm. "I appreciate your help."
She nodded, a little more at ease now, and confirmed the appointment. With that, I had secured a meeting with Todd Howitzer.
I took the elevator up to the top floor, where Todd's office was located. Stepping out, I found myself in a long hallway that led directly to his door, but a secretary stopped me before I could approach.
"The boss is a bit busy at the moment... please have a seat," she said, gesturing to a nearby chair.
With no other choice, I sat down, maintaining a calm demeanor while lightly tapping my fingers on the briefcase. Waiting was part of the process.
The silence was broken by muffled shouting coming from Todd's office. Moments later, the door swung open, and an officer from the Republic of Río Grande stormed out, his face red with fury. It was clear that he had just come out of a heated argument. He didn't even glance at me or the secretary as he stormed down the hall.
Taking advantage of the moment, I discreetly stood up and moved toward Todd's office. The door was still slightly ajar from the officer's hasty exit. Just as I reached it, Todd stepped out, looking exhausted. He ripped off his tie with a frustrated gesture and let out a long, tired sigh. He looked like a man at the end of his rope.
I watched him for a moment, knowing this was the perfect time to make my move.
"Mr. Howitzer," I said in a firm yet respectful tone to get his attention.
He looked up quickly, clearly surprised that he hadn't noticed me before. There was still frustration in his eyes, but now there was curiosity too.
"I'm the man you have a meeting with regarding the arms deal," I continued, giving him a controlled smile as I extended my hand.
Todd blinked, seeming to recall the appointment, and nodded. "Ah, right, the arms fella... well, come on in," he said with a thick Texan drawl. "Dorothy, sugar, make sure no one interrupts us, ya hear?" he called out to his secretary before motioning for me to follow him inside.
The door closed behind us, and once we were alone, Todd collapsed into the chair behind his desk, tossing his tie on the desk with a sigh. "Lord almighty, it's been one of them days, I'll tell ya what," he muttered, leaning back in his chair.
"Mr. Howitzer, I understand things must be quite complicated for you at the moment," I began, keeping my tone professional but empathetic. "I've come a long way to speak with you, and I think I can offer a solution that might lighten some of the load you're carrying."
Todd looked at me, sizing me up for a moment before a sly smile crept across his face. "Boy, you sure know how to sweet-talk, don't ya?" he said with a chuckle. "Ya want a whiskey? Got some that's been sittin' in that barrel for fifty years," he said, gesturing to a shelf of bottles behind him.
"Thank you, but no," I replied, keeping my focus on the task at hand.
Todd smirked, leaning back further in his chair. "Shoot, one of them damn Río Grande boys woulda taken me up on it..." he muttered, making it clear he was familiar with dealing with men from the Republic. His demeanor shifted, and his gaze sharpened. "Now, you're with the Legion, ain't ya?"
"True to Caesar," I responded firmly.
Todd nodded slowly, as if he'd expected that answer. There was no surprise in his eyes, just a calculating interest. "Yeah, I figured as much," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "So, what's the Legion want with me? And don't go blowin' smoke up my ass, alright? We're all walkin' a damn tightrope out here, and if you ain't got somethin' real to offer, this conversation's over before it starts."
I leaned forward slightly, matching his intensity. "Mr. Howitzer, I won't waste your time. I know you're under pressure—both from the Republic and from your own people here in Texas. What I'm offering is more than just a deal... it's a chance to shift the balance of power in your favor."
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