"The die is cast."

–Gaius Julius Caesar

Fallout: Vae Victus – A Novelization of New Vegas

Prologue – Casting the Dice

War, thought Caesar, never changes. Medieval knights had waged war for glory and fiefdom. Spanish conquistadors fought in the interest of obtaining much gold, riches, for themselves. Through conflict Hitler forged a greater German Reich.

And, of course, one Gaius Julius Caesar came to, saw, and ultimately conquered Gaul over two thousand years ago.

He'd merely taken the man's name, basing an entire society off the "the Twins' Tenth Legion", knowledge of which he had gleaned from a cache of books discovered back when he still went by the name of Edward Sallow.

But that was a fact best kept secret, he thought to himself, as he sat on a lean horse at the shallow banks of the Colorado River. Besides, his past self was long dead, a nonentity better left forgotten.

He'd ridden out from Flagstaff, capital of his empire, flanked by his praetor and a cohort on the right. To his left was the ever-loyal Legate Lanius, also sitting atop a horse, whose aging pistol hung low from its holster attached to a worn leather belt.

"Scout, report." Lanius ordered in Latin, his voice fearsome; everyone in his legion spoke the ancient language well and in place of English. The horned bronze mask that he wore, molded in the likeness of the god of war Mars whom Caesar claimed to have been descended from, only added to the Legate's terrifying presence.

"S–sir," the scout began, rightfully scared, "Cottonwood Cove is ours for the taking, if we move swiftly enough. From there, we'll have a firm supply line as well as a base of operations from which we can launch raids into southern Nevada and New California. HailCaesar!" the scout said, raising his arm upwards at an angle, his hand flat like his fingers which sliced through the air. He'd added the salute to the son of Mars almost as an afterthought, no doubt half forgetting to do so judging by the visibly shaken look present in the scout's stark blue eyes.

"Good." Lanius said aloud, "good." He looked back over his shoulder, shooting a quick glance first at the praetor and then at the cohort before looking at Caesar. "Vulpes Inculta shall lead his elite troopsdeep into the New California Republic's territory, while a sizable force will ford the river to secure Cottonwood Cove for our benefit, correct?"

"Indeed." Caesar said, turning around on his horse to face his praetor. "Quintus Curius," he said, "let us march back to Flagstaff." They left the riverbank and crossed several miles of harsh desert before reaching the capital, kicking up great clouds of dust. Over four-hundred mounted men went through the huge steel gate; yet more dust swirled around them, sent forth as a powerful engine lifted the gate up off the ground.

Flagstaff had once been nothing more than a smattering of ruinous structures scattered randomly about a midst massive piles of rubble. The pitiful tribes living there were easily defeated, forced into his legion. Caesar set the vanquished tribesmen to work knocking down old buildings and replacing them with proper Roman-style ones. The tribal womenfolk were married off to his legionaries, while the children were raised to be obedient soldiers.

He and his force went down the wide, cobble-stoned streets, his praetor taking the cohort over to a nearby barracks. The Legate Lanius and himself ventured over to the city's citadel, built atop a hill near the forum. Four metal towers situated behind a huge steel wall shot up into the sky from the citadel, whereon snipers watched the city below. They ascended the hill and entered through the gate, riding past throngs of soldiers. Putting their horses into the Imperial stable, they went inside the awesome structure.

The two men walked past numerous guards and climbed up a stairway to Caesar's office. Caesar saw the legate off to a separate office before entering his own.

It was spacious and ornate. On one side, there were shelves full of books, while on another side stood large marble busts of noblemen. A big oaken desk was situated in the center of the room, which he went over to and sat down at.

His secretary briefly came in to give him a stack of papers to read through. He sighed. "Bureaucracy never changes." Caesar then put on his reading glasses, spending the next few hours reading over manifold reports.

Finally getting to the last one, he muttered aloud "So, the centurion Aurelius of Phoenix holds his triumph today? So be it." Aurelius of Phoenix had recently annihilated many hundreds of raiders, worthless barbarians lacking in beauty or virtue who'd been plaguing the land. The brave centurion would be expecting him to attend; he had to be nearly everywhere at once. This fact was a consequence of him setting up society as a tyranny, which he viewed as the best form of government. The tyranny was in stark contrast to the corrupt, decadent republic across the Colorado River. No factious parties existed to muck up the State. Here, only the will of the tyrant prevailed: His will.

Setting the papers aside, he ordered the legate over intercom to prepare the emperor's guard for the triumph, which was set to begin soon. He took off his mail armor and dressed in a simple white toga and purple cape, befitting of the real Caesar. Some time passed before he heard confirmation from Lanius that the emperor's guard was ready. He then went out onto the parade grounds. Before him was the emperor's guard and the legate, already assembled.

"We march." He commanded. They marched through the gate and down the street. His force mixed with Aurelius of Phoenix's cohort, which had joined them in a grand procession to the forum.

Today, he'd make official the fight against the NCR by ordering Aurelius of Phoenix to attack Cottonwood Cove on the morrow.

Standing next to a microphone setup in the forum, he spoke: "Fellow men of the Tenth Legion, today I designate Aurelius of Phoenix first centurion, set to attack Cottonwood Cove tomorrow. His force is the spearhead that will puncture the NCR in the throat. All who are with me in this great endeavor, I beseech you, say yes!"

"Yes! Hail Caesar!" They said in unison, shouting to the skies, giving off the Roman salute.

The die was now cast. Once he crossed the Colorado River, there would be no turning back. Of that, he was certain.