Who the hell allowed this Courier to believe she was important?
Vulpes stared with a clenched jaw as the profligate strode into the tent, wearing Legion armor no less. Scarlet fabric hugged the graceful intake of her narrow waist, covered by the silver breastplate that fit her figure down to the dip at the hollow of her throat. Ordered by Caesar himself, no doubt.
Specially made.
Her bow was graceful, he noted. She took a seat beside Caesar without prompting. That filthy, degenerate whore sidling up to the almighty Caesar like she had a right.
"Something on your mind, Inculta?"
Gray eyes narrowed at the fair haired Courier. Ex-Courier, he thought bitterly. An amused smirk pulled at the edges of her pink lips. The bitch knew her mere presence was grating on his nerves.
"None that involve you, Courier."
Caesar cleared his throat before the tension escalated. The blonde turned her immaculate jade eyes to the expanse of maps littering the table. Photos of casinos and their factions rested on their respective locations atop the map. Those calculating eyes were greedily consuming the information offered to her on the table.
The New Vegas Strip had been a delicate topic since the Legion victory over the NCR at the Hoover Dam. Legion laws forbade drugs, alcohol, and gambling. Nearly every establishment on The Strip was comprised of these key elements. For the past month, meetings had been held to discuss the future of New Vegas. Did they destroy the casinos, enslave the whores, and kill the men?
No. The Courier had a sharp objection to that.
Caesar wanted to build an Empire. To shape a civilization around the beliefs of the Legion. Every army fought to protect something. The Legion needed a city, a capital, to protect. What was the point of a drifting army that left only destruction in its wake and the only reaped spoils of war were more mouths to feed? She was right. Caesar agreed with her. That damnable wench had convinced Caesar to his way of thinking.
"Cities survive from trade," the Courier had begun explain to the multitude of officers gathered in Caesar's tent. "If we only build a stronghold for our men, we'll reap no benefit. To live means to cost. Every soldier and slave must eat. Weapons must be forged. Armor must be crafted. This Legion is one of warriors, not of tradesmen.
"Settlers and merchants travel for hundreds of thousands of miles to reach this glowing beacon in the desert. When they arrive, they pay through the nose to enjoy a lax atmosphere over a drink. Tell me, Lord Caesar, have you looked into the vast sums these casinos collect from these travelers? Each casino reaps thousands of caps a week."
At this point, the Courier paused to wet her lips and glance around the room. Men sat on the edge of their seats. All ears were finely tuned into her speech, hanging onto every word. Caesar himself sat in a thoughtful pose, cheek resting in hand upon his throne. Women were creatures treated lower than the Legion Mongrels, and for them to pay such attention to the 'inferior' sex was an anomaly.
"What I propose, My Liege, is that we build our city around The Strip. Do we forget the slums that surround The Strip? Westside and Freeside, for example. These locals will submit to our rein or be crucified in our wrath. Also look at the greenery here in the Mojave. You must know how empty and dusty it is out west, Lord Caesar, and heard of the desolate lands of the north east.
"Daily, settlers move in to look for opportunity. Who are we to stop these kindred spirits? Let them settle in our land. We will build a city for them. We'll take in the sick and the hungry, and we'll cure them. Because we must win over these people. The leaders of great nations should be loved by their people and feared by their enemies.
"The NCR is fleeing. Bases, however, remain scattered throughout the Mojave. This desert is vast, Caesar. Our primary goal now is driving out the remnants of the NCR before they can regroup and form a counterstrike. Our secondary goal should be to win over these locals here, on The Strip, and show them the horror stories they've been told have only been on the receiving end of our wrath. We must show them that being in the Legion's good graces is a blessing from Mars himself."
The silver tongued devil had won over Caesar and his men. Caesar praised her open thinking and mind for strategy. Men looked at her with gazes of respect for the woman. She was most likely the only woman they'd ever held in such high regard before. Murmuring had spread through the tent when Caesar remained silent and studied the girl. Her expression remained unflinching. Her posture showed no weakness.
"Right you are, Courier. It seems I made a wise decision, accepting you into my Legion. Never did I imagine a woman could present herself as such a formidable creature." A breathy chuckle escaped the warlord. "I hate to imagine if you'd sided with those NCR fuckers and chased us out of the Mojave. Don't let your ego swell, Courier. These times now are only the beginning of your trials."
Caesar leant forward in his throne, eyes piercing straight into the Courier's strikingly green ones. It was at that moment, Caesar found himself momentarily lost in those depths. Jade depths that held so many secrets that threatened to look deep into his soul if he was not careful.
"Tell me your name, Courier."
That, however, made her demeanor shift.
"Pardon?"
"Your name, Courier. Your given name at birth."
Drawing her right hand up, causing a majority of men in the room to reach for their weapons, she swept back the wheat locks hanging in front of her right eye. Near the very top of her skull, right at the beginnings of her hair line, a ghastly scar marred her flesh. Fresh, sinewy skin covered the crescent shaped scar. The room held its breath.
"You know as well as I do that I lost my memory after a bullet to the head. My past is a mystery. To me, I have always been Courier."
"Surely, you won't remain under that name now that you've joined my Legion."
"I… don't really care, to be honest. Name me as you please."
A surprise, Caesar would admit. Everyone knew the tale of the Courier and Benny, the bastard who shot her with a single 9mm and left her for dead. The after story, how the Courier was affected, was never deemed important enough. The Wasteland only watched her actions. They didn't care for the Courier as a person, but as a being. Caesar mused to himself internally, compiling all the information about the girl.
She was cunning, he'd give her that. At times, he sensed she might outwit his lead Frumentarius with ease. Those calculating eyes that never seemed to waver. They showed a varying spectrum of emotions, from heartfelt emotion to the cold gaze of death. The way her bangs fell to frame her face, pale hair setting off the vivid color of her irises. Without a doubt, Caesar knew what he was going to name this newly baptized Legionary.
"Esmaralda," Caesar concluded with a smirk. "I baptize you Esmaralda of the Legion." A moment passed before Caesar turned his eyes back up to the rest of his men standing idly by. "All of you get out. This discussion has been settled. Details will be handled at a later date."
The Legionaries obediently dispersed from their leader's tent. As the freshly baptized blonde, Esmaralda, was about to step out of the tent, a voice called her back. "Esmaralda," Caesar summoned, cheek resting in his hand once more. Behind him appeared a familiar fox head, a pair of gray eyes simmering underneath. That manipulative smirk quirked the corner of Esmaralda's lips.
"I have an assignment for the both of you."
"As you wish, My Lord."
"Whatever you say, Caesar."
A vein visibly throbbed in Vulpes' forehead. The nerve she had to speak to Caesar in such a manner. What appalled him most was Caesar's lack of anger. Instead, his eyes gleamed with amusement at the blonde's flippancy. Her demeanor when giving a speech and living life were completely different. Vulpes loathed the woman.
"I'm sending you two out to The Strip in three days. I'm very much aware of the presence Esmaralda holds over the people there. Every man, woman, and child there knows her face. You'll be paying a visit to the Tops when you arrive. Esmaralda, I believe you're familiar with the new head of that joke of a casino?"
"Sure do. Man called Swank. Real slippery kind of guy."
"I expect nothing less of the former Boot Riders. Your mission is to go work your charms on those weasels and convince them to give seventy percent of their annual sales to my great Legion. I trust I won't need to give you further instruction if they refuse your first offer."
Vulpes scoffed internally. This woman was all talk, he'd heard. Only good with a high powered rifle and her mouth, which he imagined had been all over a vast populace of the profligate males. Caesar's eyes turned to his most trusted Frumentarius. "You will be accompanying her as a guard."
No.
What?
"My Lord, if this Courier is as great as you say, may I ask why you wish to send me along?"
"Are you questioning me, Vulpes?"
"Of course not, My Liege. I merely ask out of curiosity."
Caesar stood from his chair and stretched his legs.
"I'm not foolish enough to send out one man—woman—on this mission. You're tagging along for the intimidation factor, Vulpes. Just sit there and look pretty while Esmaralda here does all the hard work."
A satisfied grin claimed Esmaralda's lips. Laughter bubbled in her stomach. Caesar's words were demeaning to his soldier. Vulpes did not show his distaste, however. Instead, the two exchanged a few sentences in hushed Latin before Vulpes bowed to Caesar. The fox strode meaningfully towards Esmaralda, roughly grabbing her by the crook of her elbow.
"No need to get touchy on me, Fox."
"Silence."
"Snippy today, aren't we?"
"I told you to be silent."
"Remind me when I began taking orders from you?"
The meaningless banter faded into the sounds of the Fort, much to Caesar's pleasure. Two of his most trusted soldiers fought like children sometimes. This sort of situation, as he had seen it many times, could not be solved by an outside party. They'd both have to come to a mutual respect in their relationship. But first, they'd need an actual relationship to start mending it.