The Ides Of March
(Created after playing through Fallout New Vegas several times. On every playthrough I underwent that didn't end up aligning itself with the Legion, I was always bothered by the fact that Caesar is strangely absent from the endgame. Built up as a central antagonist, or at the very least a main character, his presence is not felt during the build up towards Hoover Dam. Why, I wondered, was that? Here's my interpretation of events.)
March 1 / 2282
Cowards die many times before their actual deaths.
Placing my hands tightly on my knees, I leaned forward in the throne, struggling to control the anger that was clawing its way up my throat. "Not only did you manage to utterly fail in your designated task." I started, my expression one of cold contempt. It was an expression that I had ended up getting a lot of practice with.
"Not only did you fail to bring the Khans under my banner. Not only did you fail to find a suitable replacement for their absence." I furrowed my brow, and stared at the quaking man before me. Karl had seen better days, obviously: his clothes were ragged, his expression was wild, his body was starved, and he generally didn't let out so much as a whimper in my presence. The past few days had not been kind to him.
The next few weeks would not be kind to him, either.
Karl finally managed to let out a few syllables, staring up towards me with his hollow eyes. "Please, Seezar…"
I growled, and slammed my fist down on the armrest next to me. "Kaisar, damn it!" Karl jumped, and then bent his head low again. Glancing over to me, Lucius didn't let his face betray his emotions, but I know what he thought. I was acting like a petulant and grumpy old man.
I was Caesar. I had to be better than my age when before my Legion.
But the pronunciation was Kai-sar. How hard was it to memorize?
After a few moments to tense silence, I relaxed my fist and leaned back in the throne. "Not only did you manage to accomplish all of that, but now I hear word of the Great Khans leaving the Mojave entirely, out of NCR territory." Shaking my head, I glared at Karl expectantly. "What do you think that means?"
The failed Frumenatarii spy turned his head back up to me, looking for all the world like a beaten dog awaiting that final, relieving kick. Karl bit his lip, and slowly started to murmur something incoherent. I felt a slight sneer come across my lip, and immediately tried to remove it from my face. Caesar, the old Caesar, didn't sneer. It was unbecoming. "If you're going to grovel, do it properly."
Karl nodded viciously at that, and tried to push himself to his feet. He didn't want to risk my anger anymore than he already had. Brave decision. Not enough to make up for his cowardice. "Caesar…" he began, pronouncing my name correctly this time, "I think we can still salvage the situation. With the Great Khans gone, we no longer have to worry about them when we take the Dam."
Immediately, I stopped him. "Without the Great Khans-" I roared, pushing myself to my feet now. Lucius started at this, but he quickly corrected himself and stayed at his position by the throne. His rightful place. I didn't need his help getting up off a fucking chair.
"Without the Great Khans," I repeated, taking a step towards Karl now, "the NCR no longer have a thorn in their backside, and can turn all of their soldiers East. With the Fiends dead, with House gone, with the Brotherhood their allies, the Bear now only has to concentrate on us!"
Karl shrank under my fury, and probably would have turned and started running had two Praetorian guards not stepped up behind him and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. Disgusting. This man had been entrusted by Vulpes to bring the tribes of the region around to our cause, no small task in the grand scheme of things. And here he was now, cowering from me like a scared animal.
Looking at him up and down, I shook my head. "What happened? What the fuck happened to justify all of this?"
Glancing quickly towards each Praetorian guard, Karl then fearfully turned his eyes towards mine and saw the fury raging inside of them, hot coals bursting into flame. But I was also curious as to what the hell could drive off one of my Frumentarii from their given assignment. Vulpes trained them well, and it was not often that they had so utterly failed me.
Finally, Karl spoke, dropping his eyes from my angry gaze. "It was a few weeks back. The Great Khans were preparing for battle, and Papa Khan – their leader – was growing receptive to the idea of an alliance. And then someone else showed up at Red Rock Canyon."
A moment's pause. "Well?" I exclaimed, folding my arms before me.
"A woman." Karl spit out.
An even longer pause. I struck him.
The man had not been suspecting it, and my unarmed fist connected with his jaw quite easily. Had I been a few decades younger, Karl would be knocked on the ground with a nasty bruise already showing. As it was, the punch took a lot more out me than I had planned, and as he fumbled back in surprise, I suddenly felt weak to the bones. My vision darkened momentarily, and it took an embarrassing amount of effort to continue standing as I was now.
The Praetorians had caught Carl during his fall, and held him tightly now as I tried to regain my breath. "A woman?" I shouted when I felt I had the strength. The shout carried easily on the chill breeze, a side effect of the winter we had just experienced.
February had been a tough month for my Legion. Disturbing reports crept across the Colorado daily, reports that incited my anger more often than not. The common legionnaire did not pay the reports much mind, confident in their Caesar. Confident in me. They did not truly understand, though. Their tribes had all been easily conquered, assimilated into my Legion with little or no difficulty. Arizona had been the easy part of my journey to creating an empire. Now I faced the last legs of that journey, New Rome beckoning to me across the Rubicon, with the Bear baring its teeth before my army.
My old Legate was a testament to the Bear's strength and my own failings.
And now a woman was thwarting my best laid plains. A fucking woman.
"She was different!" Karl howled, quick to reassure me. Too late. He tried to pull himself out of the Praetorian's grips, but that was impossible in his state. "She was clever and strong! She found one of the tribe's weak links, a Khan named Regis, and exploited him! Soon the whole tribe was standing against me! I couldn't do a thing to stop her!"
Gritting my teeth, I shook my head. "She sounds like a better Frumentarii than you. What was her name?" At the very least, I could have her assassinated. My legionnaires were skilled at hunting across the open wastes of the Mojave. It wouldn't take long, even with NCR patrols constantly sweeping west of the Colorado River.
"I don't know her name!" Karl screamed. "She just introduced herself as a courier!"
I was silent for a very long time.
I had many couriers working in my service. Some of my best spies posed as employees for the Mojave Express, traveling across Vegas to deliver my own personal messages. Hell, my best spy had been a courier before he vanished into the Divide. But I did not employ female Frumentarii.
Which meant that this was the Courier. The Courier.
The Courier that had carried the Platinum Chip, the key to a Securitron army that had been locked away underneath my very feet. The Courier that spat in my face when I asked her to destroy said army, and instead used it for her own personal use. The Courier that had been shot in the head by Mr. House's own protégé, who then subsequently tracked him across the wasteland and got me to crucify him outside my war camp. The Courier that had helped stop my White Legs from destroying the Malpais Legate and the remains of the New Caananites. The Courier that had, in essence, completely fucked me over.
I was not very happy to hear of this latest crime against my Legion.
My heart was pounding, my blood boiled, and the only thing that I could rage against was the man cowering before me, responsible for this great failure. Needless to say, I struck him. I struck him again, and again, and again, and again.
And when the Praetorians dragged his bloodied carcass away from my tent, I did not feel victorious. I felt sick to the stomach.
The only victories that I gain anymore are the ones against my own followers.
