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"Centurion Valerianus, this is Legate Gaius. Proceed with the bombardment of Camp Forlorn Hope. I want it leveled by tomorrow. You are authorized to use as much mortar ammunition as deemed necessary. I repeat, all available mortar ammunition. And if you find it prudent, use artillery. Understood?"
"Roger, Legate," Valerianus replied through the static on the radio.
I switched channels. "Centurion Aelianus, hold positions. I repeat, hold positions. Ensure your men do not advance beyond the established trenches. I want everyone in place, ready for further orders."
"Understood, Legate," Aelianus responded, his voice steady on the other end of the radio.
The radio crackled again.
"Legate Gaius, this is Centurion Lucullus. The profligates' defenses are crumbling. Now is the time to strike while they're disoriented. Requesting permission to advance."
I took a moment before responding. "Negative, Centurion Lucullus. Your orders are to hold position and await reinforcements from Centurion Marcellus. Repeat, hold position. Your cohort has been in combat for too long and is low on ammunition. We won't risk our men under these conditions. Proceed with waiting."
A brief silence followed on the line, then a "Roger, Legate. We will hold the position."
My orders were clear and precise: unrelenting bombardment of Novac, a steady push against Nipton, and a continuous advance northward. Each of these directives was relayed to my centurions, who executed my will on the battlefield as extensions of myself. The cohesion of the legions was absolute, every move calculated, every advance planned to weaken and exhaust the NCR without granting them any reprieve.
I had commissioned a detailed map of the Mojave, and each time I issued an order, I moved my strategic pieces across that map, maintaining absolute control over every active front. Thanks to this system, no detail escaped my oversight, and the Legion coordinated its attacks with precision few armies could match. The reports arriving at my desk detailed not only the movement of my own forces but also those of the NCR, thanks to a network of spies we had embedded within their ranks. One of those agents, an officer named Picus with the rank of captain in the NCR, provided us with critical intelligence. Every three days, Picus sent a detailed report on the NCR's actions and plans against us, allowing us to anticipate and counter their attempts to regain ground.
My strategy of manipulating the media to undermine General Lee had been a resounding success. The propaganda and constant coverage of casualties had sown discord in the NCR. Protests erupted in their major cities, and pacifist senators raised their voices, calling for negotiated peace or even total withdrawal from the Mojave. Public pressure on Lee struck indirectly at his leadership, affecting morale more than the war itself. Many NCR citizens now viewed the Mojave as a meat grinder, a cursed region where their sons were sent, never to return.
While these elements didn't decide the war in a tactical sense, they impacted the NCR soldiers' morale, which was a valuable tool. Public resistance to the war meant fewer reinforcements, fewer soldiers willing to face the Legion, and, ultimately, fewer parents willing to sacrifice their children for an increasingly inhospitable territory.
"A full ammunition convoy destroyed, Legate Gaius," Vulpes announced in his calm and calculating tone, entering my tent without making a sound, as always. "Though it cost the lives of three of my more expendable frumentarii."
I kept my gaze on the map spread before me, every marked point representing a planned action across the Mojave's vast expanse. The destruction of an NCR ammunition convoy was undoubtedly a victory.
"As expected," I replied without looking up. "With each calculated strike, we bring the NCR closer to exhaustion. Your frumentarii knew the cost, and they fulfilled their purpose with honor."
Vulpes nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever. "The NCR's morale is at a critical point, Legate. Protests in their cities and divisions in their Senate are hindering their ability to react quickly. The pressure on General Lee increases by the day."
"Although it's anticipated that soon, the general will receive thousands of reinforcements and advanced equipment in the coming weeks," Vulpes calmly reported, "Kimball intends to throw everything against the Legion."
A slight smile crossed my face as I analyzed the implications. "That would be ideal," I replied. "With so many new troops, it will take time to organize them effectively. Our spies will have the opportunity to embed themselves within their ranks and, with some luck, infiltrate key positions. It's only a matter of time before our advantage becomes apparent."
Vulpes nodded, grasping my intention to continue preparing for the final phase of the campaign. "Then, shall we continue securing the routes toward New Vegas?"
"Yes," I replied. "By next week, our forces should control all access points to the city. Once it's surrounded, we'll only have to wait patiently for the return of Legate Lanius. With his arrival, the fall of New Vegas will be inevitable."
Vulpes was about to deliver the latest report from our spies when the entrance to the tent opened. Lucius, the Praetorian Prefect, entered with his usual solemn and calculated authority, his martial stance underscoring the seriousness of his message.
"Lord Caesar wishes to know in detail how the front is progressing," Lucius said, his voice firm and respectful, conveying the importance of this update.
With a gesture, I invited him to approach the map, where all the Legion's positions and movements in the Mojave were plotted. It was evident that Caesar was tracking every step of this campaign, and I knew that my words would be carefully judged.
Lucius observed me with a penetrating gaze, reaffirming the order. "Lord Caesar wishes to hear this information personally, Legate."
I nodded, fully aware of what this request implied. Caesar desired a firsthand update, and any hesitation would be seen as a lack of confidence in our strategy. I glanced at Vulpes, who remained silent, understanding his report would have to wait until after my audience with Caesar.
"Very well, Lucius," I replied. "I'll meet with Caesar immediately."
Lucius gave a slight nod and followed me to Caesar's command tent, the place where the leader of the Legion himself directed the Mojave campaign, observing our every move with the precision of a chess master, calculating each next step.
Upon entering, Caesar sat before his own map, eyes fixed on the marked points and reports laid out on the table. The lamp light cast shadows that accentuated his severe, calculating expression.
"Lord Caesar," I said, bowing in respect, "I bring a detailed report on the situation at the front."
Caesar looked at me expectantly. "Proceed, Gaius. Tell me how our campaign progresses."
Calmly, I outlined each aspect of the operation. "Our forces are already securing the roads to New Vegas, and we expect to control all access points within a week. The NCR, though receiving reinforcements, is struggling with organization due to the influx of inexperienced troops. This delays their response capability, creating a window for our spies, embedded in their ranks, to spread misinformation."
Caesar nodded slightly, his face impassive as he absorbed each word. I continued.
"Additionally, we've begun strategic bombardments on key points like Forlorn Hope, weakening their resupply capabilities. The frumentarii have targeted several supply convoys, destroying them before they could reach their destinations. Protests in NCR cities and pressure on General Lee increase daily. Our spies have sown rumors of internal conflicts and distrust in NCR command, further weakening their morale."
Caesar leaned forward, a faint smile of satisfaction appearing. "Excellent, Gaius… soon I will have my Rome, the jewel in the desert…" he said, trailing off, his gaze fixed on the empty air, as if his thoughts had drifted to a place unreachable to others. He only blinked occasionally, his intense expression frozen, captivated by that vision.
I watched in silence, but when I glanced at Lucius, I noticed something that caught my attention: a faint shadow of concern on his face. His posture remained firm and martial, but his eyes betrayed unease. Seeing Caesar so lost in thought, almost disconnected from the present, had touched a nerve in the praetorian prefect.
I moved closer to Caesar with a mix of alarm and urgency. "Oh, shit…" I muttered, unable to hold back the reaction at seeing him in that state.
"Watch your mouth! You're in the presence of Lord Caesar," Lucius murmured, a mix of anger and fear in his voice as he saw our leader in that strange pause, trapped in distant thoughts.
Without wasting time, I began removing my power armor. Caesar, as if finally returning to himself, blinked and looked at me with confusion, the vacant intensity in his gaze fading.
"Where…? I will rule and bring order to… what are you doing, Legate?" he asked, his tone reflecting surprise as he saw me, visibly concerned and so close to him, stripped of my armor.
"Lord Caesar," I replied, steadying my voice, "I believe we should speak alone." I cast a firm glance at the praetorians around us, knowing the last thing we needed was for this conversation to be misinterpreted or to fuel rumors.
Caesar glanced around, his gaze scanning the faces of his protectors before nodding slightly. "Everyone, leave us," he commanded, his tone regaining something of its usual strength. The praetorians exchanged quick looks among themselves but obeyed without hesitation, leaving the tent in reverent silence, leaving only Lucius, Caesar, and me.
"How long have you had these mental lapses?" I asked seriously, as I took a small flashlight from one of my compartments and turned it on, shining it directly into Caesar's eyes to observe his pupils and any abnormal signs.
Caesar squinted, visibly irritated. "What is this about, Gaius? My mind is as clear as ever."
"With all due respect, Lord Caesar," I insisted, "if we want this vision of Rome in the desert to come true, we need you to be in the best possible condition." Lucius watched silently, his concern evident yet respectful of the moment.
Lucius finally spoke with cautious restraint. "Lord Caesar has had these lapses somewhat frequently in recent months. At first, we thought it was just the exhaustion of the campaign… but they seem to be occurring more often."
Caesar leaned back in his seat, exhaling a deep sigh, as if releasing a burden he'd been carrying in silence. "Very well, let's state the obvious," he began, his tone so direct that neither Lucius nor I dared to interrupt him. "There is something wrong with me. The headaches started a couple of months ago. At first, they weren't too severe… but now they come frequently, and they are… debilitating."
He paused, passing a hand over his forehead as if recalling the pain made him relive it in that very moment. "In the past two weeks, my left leg has been dragging. It's stiff, hard to move. And you've both seen me disconnect. Lucius says I stare into the void, blink a few times, and then continue speaking as if nothing happened." He looked at us with a mixture of resignation and determination in his eyes. "So, what's the diagnosis?"
Lucius and I exchanged a glance, and the weight of his words hung in the air. I cleared my throat, aware of the gravity of the situation. "Lord Caesar, based on what you've described, it could be a growth in your head—a tumor—that's pressing on certain areas of the brain and causing these symptoms."
Caesar gave a slight smile, though his eyes reflected a blend of defiance and acceptance. "Congratulations, you've just appointed yourself my personal doctor as well as my legate. Do you have what you need to treat my condition?"
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"I believe so, Lord Caesar," I replied, though my gaze lingered on a machine stationed in a corner of his tent. "Does that autodoc work?"
Caesar let out a slight sigh, his expression showing a hint of fatigue. "It's missing a part, the diagnostic module. I only use it for minor cuts or bruises," he said, gesturing to the machine.
"I think it will suffice for a simple procedure," I replied, forcing a faint smile to maintain composure, though I knew this was far from simple. Then, lowering my voice and glancing at Lucius, I added, "But I think we should discuss this in private, Lord Caesar."
Ever loyal, Lucius intervened immediately. "I am the protector of Lord Caesar at all times, and—"
"Lucius, step out," Caesar ordered, his authority leaving no room for dispute.
"At your command, Lord Caesar," Lucius replied, though he couldn't fully mask his concern as he left the tent.
Once we were alone, Caesar turned to me with an inquisitive gaze, a flash of anxiety visible in his eyes—something he rarely allowed to show. "What is it you wish to discuss?" he asked, his voice betraying a subtle worry.
I took a breath, fully aware of the gravity of my words. "The procedure… it won't be simple, Lord Caesar," I said candidly. "A brain tumor is no small matter. Nothing involving the brain is. And the issue isn't just the surgery itself but… your age, Lord Caesar. If you were younger, we might rely on the body's natural regeneration. But you are an older man… and we both know the truth. You're not the son of a god, as some might believe."
Caesar nodded slowly, understanding the severity of my words, yet showing no trace of fear. "What are you telling me, Gaius?"
"Even if the procedure is successful, Lord Caesar, there is a significant risk of cerebral hemorrhage. And, though we have access to modern medicine, the likelihood of such a hemorrhage being fatal is high."
Caesar looked at me with an unusually serious expression, devoid of the usual flashes of anger or frustration he often displayed. He seemed to absorb each word, his thoughts clearly turning inward.
"Are you saying this is the end for me, Gaius?" he asked, with not a shred of fear in his voice—only an acceptance that only great leaders can muster.
"Not necessarily, Lord Caesar. But I think you need to be fully aware of the risk. Success isn't guaranteed, and the cost could be high. Still, if this is the path you choose, I will do everything in my power to see you through it."
Caesar nodded, a flicker of his old determination returning to his eyes. "Then do what is necessary, Gaius. If this is my fate, let it come with the same courage with which I have led my Legion. I do not fear death… only leaving my vision unfinished."
"I understand, Lord Caesar… but I urge you, before the procedure, to designate a clear heir," I said, the weight of the situation pressing into my voice. "I know Rome is your model, but its greatest flaw was the lack of clear succession… I implore you, Lord Caesar, to resolve this matter promptly."
Caesar's gaze hardened slightly, as though the suggestion itself was an affront. "Do you think the Legion will die with me?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of anger, though there was something else behind that question—a doubt he had never voiced.
"Not immediately, Lord Caesar… but it could happen over time," I responded carefully. "The men will look to Lanius, to Malpais, or any other officer they deem strong. That fragmentation, that struggle for leadership, could ignite a civil war that would destroy all you've built. But if you establish a clear, legitimate heir, you leave rules of succession in place, and your vision endures."
Caesar regarded me in silence, his expression shifting, his anger turning to contemplation. It was as if he were weighing my words, looking beyond the offense and understanding the true danger.
"And how do you propose to address this, Gaius?" he asked at last, his tone less tense.
"Perhaps… through adoption, Lord Caesar," I suggested. "Rome had a tradition where emperors adopted their successor, who became their 'son' and heir, the 'grandson of Mars' in spirit and name. This would not only establish your successor but grant them the legitimacy and symbolism for all to accept. Your legacy would live on not only in the Legion but through your chosen heir."
Caesar remained silent, his eyes deep and contemplative, as though seeing beyond the present. I knew this was a difficult decision, one he had avoided, perhaps believing the Legion would carry on regardless of his fate. But now, facing the possibility of his mortality, he couldn't deny that an unregulated succession could destroy his dream of a Rome in the desert.
Caesar looked at me intently, waiting for my analysis. I took a moment to weigh each option before responding with the utmost candor, fully aware that my words would bear immense weight on the Legion's future.
"There are many considerations, Lord Caesar," I began. "Legate Lanius, for example. He represents the Legion's strength, and with his relative youth, he has the respect of most of the legionaries. He's a competent officer, proven in battle, though his relationship with the frumentarii could be a hindrance."
Caesar gave a slight nod, and I continued.
"Then there is Malpais… His failure at Hoover Dam has damaged his reputation, but he remains one of the Legion's founding figures. Recently, he has collaborated with Vulpes, which might improve his relations with the frumentarii, though his aggressive nature in combat could be a double-edged sword. Additionally… I don't believe he holds me in high regard, which could lead to conflicts in command should I remain in service under his leadership."
Caesar frowned slightly but gestured for me to continue.
"Vulpes," I continued, "is a brilliant tactician and strategist. He plans battles weeks in advance and manages to inflict significant damage with minimal resources. However, his lack of physical strength and his role as a frumentarii separate him from the image of a warrior, which may lead many legionaries to perceive him as weak."
Caesar appeared to consider this option with some skepticism, which I understood, given that the Legion values both strength and cunning. Finally, I addressed the last option.
"Lucius," I said, "is the conservative choice. He's respected by most of the Legion since he's personally trained thousands of legionaries. He's strong and competent in strategy, though perhaps not brilliant. Under Lucius, the Legion would remain a steady force, but without the sharpness that has defined your leadership, Lord Caesar."
Caesar remained silent for a moment, weighing my words. Then, his gaze sharpened, a glint of intrigue crossing his eyes. "And what about you, Gaius? Do you not consider yourself worthy?"
The question didn't surprise me; in fact, it was the intention to show modesty and loyalty. I kept my expression neutral. "You asked me for counsel, Lord Caesar. My duty is to provide an impartial analysis, which should not include my own worth. Otherwise, judgment might be compromised."
Caesar studied me carefully, as if he wanted to see beyond my words. "Your loyalty is undeniable, Gaius, and your mind is sharp. I had some concerns about your flexibility in enforcing my law… but it seems the fears I shared with Vulpes were unnecessary," he said in a calm tone, though his words carried the weight of a confession.
"I have always been loyal to you, Lord Caesar," I responded. "I simply prefer to make decisions with long-term considerations whenever I have the chance."
Caesar nodded, silently reflecting on my words, his gaze fixed on a point beyond the present. After a few moments, he sighed and looked at me intently. "Tell me, Gaius, what would you do if you had to take Vegas without Lanius' reinforcements?"
"I am already employing that strategy, Lord Caesar," I replied confidently. "Lanius is marching back to the front with a massive legion, between forty and sixty thousand men. However, the campaign in the Mojave, as I have planned it, is swift and decisive. In a week, we'll be besieging New Vegas, and the NCR will likely abandon the city. To them, Vegas is indefensible: their supply lines are crippled, and their troops' morale is in shambles, especially now that their only hope lies in reinforcements still far away."
"The true obstacle will be Mr. House," I continued, "the city's ruler. His robot army is a formidable force, but we have ample experience fighting and dismantling war machines. We must destroy the factories where these robots are produced and, more importantly, take down the power sources sustaining the city. Once these critical points are disabled, Mr. House's robotic force will gradually collapse, leaving only NCR soldiers and the profligate civilians, who will face us in a brutal urban fight."
Caesar remained silent, his eyes fixed on me, evaluating each word. Finally, his stern gaze softened slightly, a mix of intrigue and cautious approval gleaming in his expression.
"When Vegas is secured, we'll consolidate direct routes to the Mojave," I continued calmly, observing Caesar as he weighed my words. "This will be only the beginning."
"And after that, Gaius? What would you do if I gave you no orders?" Caesar asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Then I would begin pacification," I replied without hesitation. "We'll start with the tribals we currently employ against the NCR. Some must be eliminated; their dependency on drugs and instability make them a risk to our lines. Others, like the Khans, could be integrated into the Legion. They will submit, one way or another. Our supply lines must be secure, at any cost. And… I would also seek to negotiate a temporary peace with the NCR," I concluded, meeting Caesar's gaze directly.
A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but maintaining his composure, he asked, "Why, Gaius?"
"War, Lord Caesar, is unpopular. It imposes high taxes, costs lives, and exhausts the people. Kimball clings to power through war. If the NCR maintains emergency powers in times of conflict, you can be sure he'll use them. This will lead us into a war of annihilation that will drain our resources and wear down our legions. But if we show a willingness for peace and send moderate terms, returning prisoners and fallen soldiers, the NCR Senate may turn against Kimball."
Caesar listened intently as I continued.
"Elections might be called, and a pacifist leader could be elected. This new president would focus on rebuilding the NCR's economy, lowering taxes, and ending forced conscriptions. And if we, in turn, show that the Legion has achieved its objectives in the Mojave and are consolidating the East and South, the NCR will feel safe. Then we can pursue the true vision, Lord Caesar: civilizing and strengthening the Legion."
I let my words linger in the air for a moment before adding, "And when the enemy feels relaxed, convinced of our withdrawal and that we are merely history… we will strike again. With a force they have never seen before."
Caesar nodded slowly, a faint smile crossing his face. "You have a bold mind, Gaius… I like that." But before he could continue, he brought a hand to his head, his eyes squeezed shut, his face contorted in pain.
"Damn… this one's the worst yet…" he muttered through clenched teeth. "When will you perform the procedure?"
"I will order the missing part for the autodoc and bring my best surgeons," I replied calmly, despite the urgency I felt. "I have trained men in my legion, as well as simulation machines. We will rehearse every step of the procedure. If you allow me three days, Lord Caesar, we'll be ready to ensure the highest chances of survival."
Caesar took a deep breath, nodding with a mixture of exhaustion and resolve. "Good… do it," he murmured. "I need rest."
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Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.