It has been three years since the fall of the Institute at the hands of the Minutemen. Three years since the Commonwealth shook to its very core, and the mushroom cloud rose high above us. Three years since settlers have cried out for their missing loved ones in the dark. It has been three years since fear and misfortune were banished.

In those three years, a lot has changed. The Minutemen have increased their ranks and influence upon the Commonwealth. The Railroad has expanded it's operations and stepped out of the shadows. The Brotherhood of Steel has continued to be an unwelcome presence.

The Commonwealth is at peace now. The roads have been secured by the Minutemen, no longer just a militia but an army. The number of settlements under the Minutemen flag grows steadily as the provisioners reach new settlements and spread the word. Raider attacks are infrequent, with settler life becoming much more appealing. Super mutants and feral ghouls have been pushed back to the Glowing Sea. The Commonwealth is by no means a safe place, but it is beginning to feel like one.

Snow
The Castle, Commonwealth
September 25, 2291 19:37

I live in the warehouse loft atop The Castle's northeast bastion. The Minutemen headquarters are a hub of constant activity, but up here there is quiet. Large windows overlook the ocean's endless expanse, and as a I stand there staring out it allows me to forget about all about my responsibilities down below.

Across the bay to the north is the glow of Boston Airport, the Brotherhood of Steel's home base. The main threat to the Minutemen. Hovering above it is the Prydwen, the Brotherhood's massive airship. Anything but subtle, though I guess that was never the intent. I find myself staring out at that ship, every night, and wishing there wasn't so much bad blood. Wishing that we weren't on the brink of war. Wishing I could see my soldier now.

Especially tonight. I'm not one for these social events, especially since the man I wish to attend with is my own bit of 'classified' information. The idea of sitting around watching everyone else dance almost makes me want a drink. Almost.

I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window and sigh deeply, the chill of the ocean wind seeps into my skull and I close my eyes. I can hear the waves crash against the stone walls below. I stay there for a few minutes, before I must prepare for the evening.

Pulling off my sweater off over my head and tossing it on the bed, I reach for the top drawer of the dresser when my terminal dings. I pause, glancing towards the window, where the curtains are tied back. Ah screw it, I think to myself with a grin. Reaching into the drawer, I pull out a purple dress and black blazer. I slip out of the rest of my loungewear and into the outfit. A quick check on my makeup, where Cricket finds this purple eyeliner I don't know, but I love it.

I check the terminal, now three messages waiting for me:

Hello gorgeous.
Don't ever close those curtains.
No interference from BOS today. Please enjoy.

I salute out the window toward the Prydwen with a laugh before heading down the stairs, leaving a pile of clothing on the floor. He can think about that for a while, wherever he watches from. As I step out the warehouse door a gust of wind comes off the ocean and whips around my dress. I quickly try to push it down, gathering it to the side. Well, he can think about that as well. I run to the next set of stairs to escape the wind.

The General is in the concourse of the main Castle walls and I deliver my report, "I suspect no interference from the Brotherhood today. They've been quite focused on the area north of Salem."

"Do we know why?" He is much taller than I am, and his voice is commanding. I always feel nervous around the General.

"No, but I have Coastal Cottage looking into it." Coastal Cottage, and my Brotherhood soldier. It's not a lie to simply leave out details, right? I try to push the thought from my mind.

"Thank you, Snow. Tonight shall be fun, yes?"

I nod, hoping he's right. The General, Nate, is an impressive man. Rebuilding the Minutemen from scratch into a powerful and compassionate army, while uniting the Commonwealth under one flag. Tonight is a Minutemen party, one of General Nate's 'morale boosting' prewar traditions. A night of music, dancing, and more. Except drinking.

The Castle does not serve alcohol. It is not forbidden, there are no rules against consumption within the grounds and ranks of the Minutemen. It just is not sold within the Castle walls. The caravans keep it tucked away during their visits. The Castle is a safe space for those recovering, to stay strong and make their own consumption choices.

And that sucks miremeat. A solid glass of whiskey takes the edge off at these social events. I am no longer the hopeless drunk I once was, and I learned control, so alcohol has become a tool rather than a crutch. Having to leave the Castle to stock my liquor cabinet was rarely feasible, however.

So that evening I sit at the dry bar, my back to dance floor of twirling settlers, and stare blankly at the rows of Nuka-Cola on the shelf. The room has been decorated and a small stage set up across from the bar. A group of settlers on the stage call themselves a band, playing handmade instruments.

I let my mind wander, imagining my sweet Brotherhood soldier and I twirling across an empty dance floor. I let out a sigh, probably too loudly. Someone sits down beside me, I continue to stare ahead.

"Two Nukas, cherry, please," the voice from beside me is a perky young man, one I do not recognize. I risk a glance sideways. He is handsome, no doubt there. A well-kept goatee, short brown hair beneath a blue hat. There are a few bullets tucked into the rim of his hat.

The bartender delivers the Nukas, and this stranger pushes one toward me. He reaches into his bag and digs around until he pulls out a bottle. I raise one eyebrow at him and he laughs. His blue eyes are shining in the twinkling dance floor lights and that smile is … enticing.

"Who are you?" I ask, unable to hide my curiosity. He certainly isn't in the Minutemen ranks, and I don't recognize him from any of the settlements.

"Nate asked me here," he responds, "Says you need to visit some settlements. I'll be getting you there in one piece." He winks.

I glance up at the bullets in his hat, and down to the bullets wrapped around his leg. "You're a merc, eh?"

"You point and I shoot. Now, it's time for you to relax and try a Nuka-cherry vodka."

I'm half out of my seat to find Nate, I don't need protection to travel, when I hear the word vodka. I pause. Oh what I wouldn't do for even a sip. I stare him down, contemplating my options.

"Look, the name is MacCready. A mercenary, and an old friend of your General Nate. And I have what you clearly need," he swishes the bottle around and my mouth goes dry.

I sit back down, lacking the desire to resist. This is why the Castle does not serve alcohol. I knock the top off a Nuka and pass it to MacCready, who adds the vodka and passes it back. After mixing his own, he slips the vodka back into his bag before anyone sees.

We clink bottles and take a swig. The libation is ice cold and smooth, a welcome feeling on my throat. "Alright Merc, I'm Snow."

I see the General approaching and wipe my mouth. He pats MacCready on the back, then turns to me. "I see you've met Mac? I think he'll be a perfect guide for you, if you can keep him out of trouble."

"Sure, Nate. And how do I know she won't put a bullet in my back?" MacCready's response lacks even a hint of seriousness, all smile. The General and MacCready laugh loudly. I take a long sip of the spiked Nuka.

The General composes himself, "You two will leave in the morning. Snow has her itinerary, visit the settlements and get them set up. Then Snow can take her vacation. I'll see you back here in three days, Mac."

"I dunno, a vacation sounds nice. What do you say, Snow, need some company?"

I roll my eyes and take my leave. Holding the Nuka above my head without looking back I shout, "Thanks for the drink, Merc."