If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
___________________________
They walked out of the church together, stepping into the warm afternoon air, sunlight flickering through the leaves.
Three days later at Sanctuary, the heavy wooden doors of the Congress Hall creaked open to the morning light, casting long shadows across the polished concrete floor. The rising sun lit the stained-glass crest above the dais — the compass and torch of the Freemasons Republic — and spilled its fractured hues over the assembly gathered below. Sanctuary had never been this quiet during a congressional session, not even during the frantic debates over taxation or militia oversight. Today was different. Today was historic.
Sico stood at the center of the elevated platform, flanked on either side by regional aides and senior Freemasons officers. His coat was the same dark one he had worn at West Everett, now adorned with a golden pin that marked him formally as President of the Freemasons Republic. His face bore the marks of exhaustion, but also calm resolve.
Around him, the hall filled with murmurs and the faint clink of glasses as the delegates took their seats. Rows upon rows of them — settlers from the southern rivers, merchant captains from the northern routes, Gunners turned citizens, Minutemen veterans, Brotherhood defectors, and independent community leaders from every corner of the rising Republic. And among them, seated near the edge of the third row, sat a new face.
Cassia's envoy.
A woman in her early thirties, lean and sharp-eyed, wearing a patched green jacket over a clean black shirt. Her hair was short, her expression unreadable. But she sat with poise — hands folded over a worn leather binder, shoulders squared, her presence undeniable.
Sico raised a hand. The murmuring ebbed.
"This session will come to order," he said, voice steady and resonant, carried effortlessly by the acoustics of the hall.
All eyes turned toward the dais.
Sico allowed a beat to pass. Then another. He wanted this moment to settle in — not as a declaration of victory or submission, but of change.
"Three days ago," he began, "I met with Cassia, leader of the group known as the Free Men, based in West Everett Estates. For those unaware, their settlement was previously categorized by our intelligence division as a neutral but high-risk separatist faction."
There were murmurs again. Some loud. Others more uncertain.
Sico continued, not allowing them to build.
"We were wrong," he said plainly. "Not in our caution — but in our assumption."
The room quieted once more.
"Cassia has agreed to enter dialogue with this Congress. And more than that — she has sent an envoy, seated among us now, to formally represent the Free Men as part of our legislative body."
He gestured subtly toward the envoy, who stood in response.
There were whispers. A few heads turned with surprise. One or two outright scowled.
"I know what some of you are thinking," Sico said, turning back to the assembly. "I've heard the doubts. The anger. You're asking: Why bring them in? Why give them a seat after everything? After their refusal to pay levies, after the rumors of defection, of armed resistance?"
He let the silence stretch again, then took a step forward.
"Because we've all seen what happens when we force people to the edges. When we call them enemies without first offering them a place in the future we claim to be building."
A murmur of agreement rippled through some of the southern delegates. Sarah, seated near the front, gave a quiet nod.
"The Free Men are not raiders. They are not warlords. They are citizens of the Commonwealth — same as you. They built their home from scrap. They fought to protect it when no one else would. And now, they're here. Not with weapons, but with words. With a willingness to engage."
He gestured again toward the envoy.
"I'd ask you to extend the same."
The envoy stepped forward, binder in hand, and approached the podium on the lower dais beneath Sico. She took the place reserved for non-voting delegates — for now.
She opened the binder slowly. Her voice, when it came, was clear but soft.
"My name is Alena Mirkov," she began. "I was born in Cambridge. My family were machinists. My father died during the Quincy Massacre. My mother held on until the winter that followed. I joined Cassia not because I believed in some grand cause, but because she kept us alive. She gave us a reason to wake up."
She looked up at the room. Not defiant. Not apologetic. Just honest.
"The Free Men began as a loose alliance of settlers, scavengers, and wanderers who didn't fit anywhere else. We weren't trying to build a nation. We were trying to build a future. One that didn't answer to Brotherhood fire teams or rogue Institute patrols. One where our kids wouldn't be drafted to fight in someone else's war."
There were nods now. A few of the veterans along the southern tier — especially the former Minutemen — showed faint signs of recognition. They'd heard this before. Maybe even lived it.
"But we're not separatists," Alena continued. "We're not trying to undermine this Republic. We just wanted to be seen. To be heard. And now, through this Congress, we have that chance."
She closed the binder.
"We don't ask for power. We ask for partnership. Let us prove that we're more than what you were told. Let us help build this, together."
She stepped back, the binder held tight against her chest, and took her seat.
There was a long silence.
Then the room shifted — not physically, but in presence. The delegates murmured again, louder this time. Sico looked out at them, gauging their temperature. The pulse of the chamber had quickened.
Councilor Brant, a tall, grey-bearded delegate from the northern farms, stood up. His voice was hard-edged and unmistakably skeptical.
"Mr. President," he began, "with all due respect… you're asking us to seat people who openly refused to join this Republic until now. Who armed themselves. Who rejected our calls for unity."
A few others nodded in agreement.
"And now they get a voice in our laws? What message does that send to those of us who did join early? Who paid the taxes? Who sent our sons and daughters to fight the raiders and patrol the borders?"
Sico didn't flinch.
"It sends the message," he replied evenly, "that the door was always open. That we don't punish those who come late to the table — only those who flip it."
Another ripple through the chamber. This time mixed.
"Brant," said Kate from the southern delegation, standing now herself. "I remember when your town couldn't get clean water for weeks. You didn't join us until we sent people to help. Should we have denied you a vote too?"
Brant's face reddened slightly. He sat down without further comment.
Councilor Janine from the River Colonies rose next.
"If we do this, Mr. President," she said, "we need guarantees. Local governance frameworks. Oversight. No rogue militias operating under the table."
Sico nodded. "Agreed. I've already discussed this with Cassia. The Free Men have formally disbanded as a paramilitary group. Their defensive units will be integrated into our Civil Defense Corps. Local councils will elect delegates and submit to Congressional law — the same as any other region."
He looked across the room again, this time with a gentler expression.
"I know some of you are afraid this weakens us. That it sends the wrong signal. But I see it differently. We've all lived in a world where trust was a luxury. Where survival meant dividing lines — us and them. But that world's ending. And it's ending because we choose to build something better."
He stepped back slightly, voice dropping in tone.
"We need more than weapons and patrols. We need ideas. We need voices. And the Free Men — Cassia — they're not our enemy. Not anymore. They are citizens. Neighbors. They've walked through the fire like the rest of us."
There was a long silence.
Then, slowly, hands began to raise.
Not all at once. Not unanimously.
But enough.
One by one, delegates nodded their assent.
Brant abstained. So did two others. But none voted no.
Sico let the moment linger.
"Then it's done," he said. "The Free Men — through their representative, Alena Mirkov — are formally granted a seat in this Congress, with all associated voting rights and privileges. A full record of amnesty will be entered into the Congressional record, and ratified by decree at the end of this session."
He looked to Alena, who stood once more.
"Welcome to the Republic," he said.
And for the first time, the entire hall — even the skeptics — offered quiet applause.
It wasn't thunderous. It wasn't triumphant.
But it was real.
Later that evening, as the Congress dispersed into conversations and corridors and cooling twilight, Sico lingered behind in the hall. The candles along the far walls burned low. Papers lay scattered on desks, and the map of the Commonwealth still flickered softly on the holo-table at the room's center.
Alena approached him as the last of the delegates filtered out.
"You meant what you said," she said quietly.
Sico nodded. "I don't have time to play games."
"Neither do we."
They stood together for a long moment, listening to the sounds of Sanctuary through the tall windows — the distant thrum of a generator, a brahmin lowing, children laughing somewhere past the garden rows.
"We'll prove you right," Alena said finally.
Sico gave a small smile.
"You won't be doing it alone."
The sun had dropped low behind the shattered skyline, casting a burnished amber light over the rooftops of Sanctuary. The Congress Hall now stood quiet behind Sico, its towering doors shut for the night. The echoes of applause still clung faintly to the air, a residue of something fragile yet momentous. But he couldn't let the moment settle. Not yet. Change didn't hold unless it was carried forward — repeated, broadcast, woven into the lives of those not present to witness it firsthand.
So he made his way across the old footbridge to the Radio of Freedom station — a squat, reinforced structure built into what used to be the backyard of an old Sanctuary house. A tall wooden mast jutted from the roof, wound with cables and antennas, humming faintly as it fed signal across the hills.
Inside, the glow of filament bulbs gave the main room a warm, firelit hue. Shelves along the walls were stacked with backup transceivers, holotapes, and old Minutemen field journals. The console — a rigged-together blend of pre-war and jury-rigged tech — gave off a low electrical buzz that was strangely comforting in its steadiness.
Piper Wright stood by the main mic, one hand wrapped around a warm mug, the other flipping through a notepad scrawled with shorthand. She looked up as the door creaked open.
"President Sico," she said with a smirk, "didn't think I'd see you back here so soon. What is it? More raider threats? Another speech to put out fires?"
Sico offered a tired but sincere smile. "Something like that. But not fires this time. A spark."
She raised an eyebrow. "Well, you've got my attention. Pull up a chair. Or just take the mic."
He stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him, muffling the wind.
"Today was big," he said, moving toward the center table. "The Congress approved the Free Men's integration. Full seat. Voting rights. Amnesty."
Piper blinked. "You're serious? After everything? That fast?"
"They didn't all vote yes," Sico admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But no one voted no. That's as close as we get to a miracle these days."
Piper set her mug down and leaned forward, hands planted on the table's edge. Her tone softened slightly, curiosity replacing the usual edge.
"Okay. So… why come to me?"
Sico met her eyes.
"Because half the Commonwealth didn't see that vote. They didn't hear Alena speak. They're still living with what they were told — that the Free Men are a danger. Separatists. Raiders waiting to break down our walls."
Piper nodded slowly. "So you want to change the story."
"I want to tell the truth," he said. "Before someone else writes the lie."
There was a beat. Then Piper stood upright and reached for a fresh reel of tape, sliding it into the recording deck with a practiced hand. She flicked a few switches, adjusted the mic stand, and motioned toward the chair in front of the console.
"Then sit down, Mr. President," she said. "Because you've got an open frequency."
A soft burst of static, followed by the gentle whirr of the transmission feed. Then the mic crackled to life, and across dozens of settlements, trading posts, relay stations, and caravan depots, a familiar voice filled the night.
"This is President Sico, speaking to you tonight from the Radio of Freedom in Sanctuary Hills."
He paused. Not too long. Just enough to let people lean in.
"Today, the Congress of the Freemasons Republic did something that's never been done before. We voted to admit a new delegation — not from a settlement we've already known or protected, but from a group many of you have heard about, and maybe feared."
He took a breath, steady.
"I'm talking about the Free Men."
The silence on the other end couldn't be heard, but it was felt — stretching across crackling radios, dim-lit homes, bunkhouses, and sentry towers. Farmers leaned closer. Caravan guards nudged each other awake. And out in West Everett, someone surely froze in place, listening.
"For a long time," Sico continued, "the Free Men have been seen as outsiders. Some of that was their doing — refusing levies, standing armed at the edge of our roads. And some of it… was ours. We assumed they wanted to break us apart. But we were wrong."
His voice remained calm, even, but his words sharpened.
"They weren't enemies. They were survivors. People who didn't see a place for themselves in the systems we were rebuilding — not because they hated order, but because they'd been forgotten by it before. Just like so many of us once were."
There was a pause. A subtle shift in tone.
"Three days ago, I met with Cassia — their leader. Not in a bunker, not on a battlefield. In a church. We talked. And today, her envoy — a woman named Alena Mirkov — spoke before the Congress. She didn't beg. She didn't lecture. She told us who they were. What they'd lost. Why they'd stayed apart. And why they're choosing now to join us."
The weight of it settled into the transmission, resonant and sincere.
"They're not laying down arms because we beat them. They're laying them down because we gave them a reason to. Because we chose to listen."
He let that linger — not triumphant, not self-congratulatory, just true.
"The Free Men will no longer be a paramilitary force. Their units are disbanded. Their defensive fighters will be folded into our Civil Defense Corps, under civilian oversight. Their settlements will elect local councils, pay into the same shared budget, and receive the same protections."
And then his voice dipped just slightly — personal, almost intimate.
"Some of you listening might be angry. You fought when they didn't. You paid into the Republic when they stayed away. You lost people. I know. I've read the letters. I've seen the scars."
Another pause.
"But this Republic — this dream we're building — it only works if we make room for those willing to join in good faith. We don't grow stronger by closing the door. We grow stronger by holding it open — and knowing the difference between a threat, and a neighbor."
A crackle. A deep breath.
"You don't have to trust them right away. Trust is earned. But give them the chance. Listen, the way we were never listened to when the world still burned."
Sico glanced toward Piper, who gave him a small nod from the corner of the room.
"Cassia's people are not our enemies. They are citizens of this Commonwealth, and now — of this Republic. The ink is dry. The vote is cast. The future is open."
Then, after a breath:
"And to those of you in West Everett, or anywhere else still watching from the edge — we haven't forgotten you either. The door is open. It always has been."
The radio went silent for a beat, then clicked over to the station's soft instrumental background loop — a slow, hopeful piano track that Piper had queued up for the close.
The stars were out when Sico stepped back into the open air. The generator hummed behind him. The wind rustled through the leaves, tugging at his coat.
Piper followed him out a moment later, crossing her arms against the chill. "Not bad for a last-minute speech. Think it'll land?"
Sico shrugged, gazing out across the distant rooftops.
"It'll land where it needs to."
They stood quietly for a moment, the cool night settling in around them.
"Word travels fast out here," Piper said, almost to herself. "But not as fast as doubt."
Sico gave a faint smile. "That's why we don't stop talking."
She looked at him, thoughtful. "You ever wonder if you're giving too much?"
"All the time," he said. "But I'd rather risk too much than build a Republic on silence and suspicion."
Piper nodded slowly. "Fair enough."
She turned to head back inside, then paused.
"Oh — I almost forgot. That envoy. Alena. She's staying the night in town, right?"
"She's got a room at the old clinic," Sico said. "Figured she'd want a little distance from the delegates' quarters."
"Might pay her a visit. No cameras. Just… a conversation."
Sico gave her a knowing look. "Play nice."
"No promises," Piper said with a grin, disappearing through the doorway.
Sico lingered a moment longer, watching the lights flicker in the homes below. Across Sanctuary, families were still awake, talking in hushed voices around radios, letting the news settle.
________________________________________________
• 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:-