It was midday at the Fort, where Silas hung from a cross under the unbearable desert sun. After being freed from captivity from the Courier, he was dismayed to learn he would face punishment for his surrender after all. Upon arriving at the Fort he was immediately arrested and brought before Caesar for sentencing. Why the Courier did no simply kill him at McCarran, he had no idea. Perhaps so Caesar could make an example out of him? There was so much to ponder while waiting for death, or until he went mad from the heat, whichever came first. How long had he been strung up here? Two, three days? He wasn't sure anymore. His skin began to crack like the soil of the Mojave desert. He wouldn't last much longer. He prayed for the end to come soon.
His senses had dimmed, but he could still hear the sound of footsteps growing closer. He lifted his head to be faced with an inexplicable sight. A group of soldiers, their metallic masks and ballistic fists marking them as the Praetorian Guard, and leading them was none other than Lucius himself. They were coming his way. There was no mistake about it. Maybe he was just hallucinating, or maybe they had taken pity on him and would put him out of his misery. They were soon upon him. For a moment Lucius just stared up at him with crossed arms, as if mulling over a decision. Silus remained silent.
"Cut him down," Lucius said at last.
The centurion was stunned. Had he heard that right?
Two Praetorians stepped forward, undoing his binds. Silus toppled to the ground, weak and gasping. Lucius knelt down, letting him drink some water from his flask. The centurion greedily drank it all down until he choked. He hacked and coughed had of it back up and someday the ground at his feet. He looked up to the group of soldiers before him.
"What is this?" he managed to say, his voice weak.
"Caesar requests your presence," Lucius replied.
He then motioned to his men, who took hold of Silus and lifted him to his feet. Even in his weakened state, Silus loathed to be treated like a cripple. After he found his footing he brushed away the Praetorian hands. He was shaky, but he could walk.
"I don't understand. Has he changed his mind?" asked Silus.
"I suppose you don't hear much in the way of news when you're tied to a cross."
Silus narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Follow. Now." Lucius ordered, turning away.
Silus wasn't presented with much of a choice. He accompanied Lucius and the other praetorians to Caesar's tent. He needed some food in his stomach badly, but that would have to wait. There were far less soldiers in the fort than he last remembered. That could only mean one thing. Caesar had made his move.
"So, did we lose, then?" asked Silus as they walked.
Lucius didn't turn around. "What?"
"Caesar must be desperate for commanders if he's decided to spare me. That can only mean we were defeated at Hoover Dam, correct?"
"No, we drove the Profiligates back and seized the Dam."
"What? Then what could this possibly be about?"
Lucius stopped at the entrance to Caesar's tent and turned to face Silus. He gestured to the tent's flap, not breaking his harsh stare.
"See for yourself. Be respectful and hold your tongue. If you step out of line even once, I'll personally rip your head from your shoulders."
Silus wasn't sure what to make of his threat. Why would he not be respectful in the presence of Caesar? Something was off. He ducked into the tent and looked upwards to Caesar's throne. What he saw did not immediately make sense. In his Caesar's place sat a woman, but just any woman. The courier who had won his master's favor, and freed him from captivity. Alice was her name. But she looked different. She was now adorned in Legion crimson, her outfit a strange mix of armored elegance. Her robe was finely cut and embedded with jewels and gold, but also reinforced by metal plating in vital areas. A golden wreath sat atop her head. Her once wild, unkempt blond hair had been neatly cut and hung just above her shoulders. Sharp green eyes shone down on Silus. In fact, everyone in the room was looking at him. After staring like a dumbfounded buffoon for several seconds, it all finally clicked. Before he could speak a word Lucius entered after him, shoving Silus forward.
"Kneel before your new Caesar, centurion."
Silus did not kneel. He wanted some answers first.
"What's transpired here? What's become of Caesar? Is this a coup?"
"Caesar died two days ago," said Vulpes, stepping forward from the shadows. "He tragically succumbed to his ailment."
Silus was silent for a moment. He knew Caesar was not well, but didn't realize he was so close to death. He looked back to Alice, who had still not spoken a word.
"And you seceded him? But you're a-."
"A what? A woman?" said Alice, speaking at last.
"A profiligate."
"He doesn't know?" asked Alice, looking to Vulpes.
"One must remember, he was imprisoned by the NCR before you came here," he said with a smirk.
"And tied to a cross for the last three days," said Lucius.
Silus heard a few chortles around him. He hated not knowing something everyone else in the room seemed to know. He kept looking at the mysterious figure standing next to the Courier, dressed head to in a strange suit of power armor. Definitely not Legion. It had been scorched black. A stuffed, severed bear's head sat upon its right pauldron. A mark of contempt for the NCR? Who was this person? They stuck to the new Caesar like a conjoined twin.
"Well, don't just stand there, Vulpes. Enlighten the man," ordered the Courier.
Vulpes happily stepped forward. He always did enjoy putting on a performance. "As I'm sure you know, the man we call Caesar was born Edward Sallow, a citizen of the NCR. His ,father was a as a small child, thus he never met his father's family," Vulpes then gestured to the woman sitting upon Caesar's throne. "Our new master, Caesar Augusta, was born Alice Vera Sallow. She is the granddaughter of Caesar's father's brother. She is Caesar's first cousin, once removed. Since she is Caesar's closest living relative, it is only natural she is his rightful heir.
For once, Silus was stifled. He truly didn't know how to react. Lucius would remind him of his place. He stepped between his Caesar and Silus. His expression was dark. Solemn. Like that of a headsman before striking the final blow.
"Kneel."
This time, Silus did as we was told, and bent the knee. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't sure whether the claim was legitimate yet, but right now that didn't matter. Alice, or Augusta, held his life in her hands. She held the golden scepter.
"What do you wish of me, Caesar?" asked Silus.
Augusta gave a nod of approval. This show of obedience was sufficient. Lucius stepped away, taking his side behind Augusta, next to her silent dark knight.
"The Dam has been taken, but another problem has arisen," Augusta began. "Not all the Legion has accepted my rightful claim as Caesar. The former Legate Lanius has taken up arms against us, and has proclaimed himself Caesar. Aurelius of Phoenix has sworn loyalty to me, but the traitors Dead Sea and Alexus have joined Lanius. The Legion is divided, unsure of who to follow. We must stomp out this rebellion at once." Augusta then rose to her feet, making her way over to Silus. The figure in power armor followed close behind. She now stood just before the kneeling Centurion.
"Now, my predecessor sentenced you to death by crucifixion. As wise as he was, I believe this was a mistake. I know you are no traitor, and you have a reputation as one of the best commanders in the Legion, and I am in need of capable commanders. So I offer you this, swear loyalty to me and lead my armies as the new Legate, and bring me the head of Lanius the Pretender. In exchange, your crimes will be forgiven. How's that sound?"
"I accept your generous offer, Caesar," said Silus, hardly able to believe his luck.
"Good," she motioned to the tent's exit. "Now, you may go."
Silus hastily rose to his feet. It was the first time Augusta had actually seen him smile.
"You won't regret this, Caesar. I promise you."
"See that I don't."
Silus turned to take his leave.
"Oh, and Silus."
He looked back to face Augusta's steely green glare.
"Don't fail."
Silus only nodded. He knew very well the cost of failure. He ducked outside the tent to find something to eat.
With that matter resolved, it was onto the next. Augusta sat upon her throne and threw one leg over the other.
"What's the next order of business?" she asked Vulpes.
"We discovered one of our troops trying to leak information to Lanius. A traitor. Normally we'd have taken care of it already, but I thought you might want to decide his punishment yourself. Make am example out of him."
Augusta grinned. "I like the way you think, as always, Vulpes. Being the traitor forth."
A few moments later, the turncoat was thrown at her feet. Bound and badly beaten, Augusta recognized him immediately.
"Otho. Why am I not surprised?" said Augusta with a sigh.
Otho coughed through his broken ribs, then spit blood at her feet. He remained defiant.
"To hell with you, woman. I will never stoop to taking orders from the weaker sex. Caesar would never trust the fate of the Legion to a bleeding bitch!"
Augusta showed mild anger, but it contained. "You're a bastard to the very end." She raised one hand to signaled to her praetorians. "Have him-."
"Hey, wait a second," came a voice from her metallic bodyguard. "I've got an idea to give this guy exactly what he deserves, and send a message to the rest of the Legion."
Augusta looked intrigued. "And how's that?"
"You trust me?"
"Of course."
The figure in power armor marched forward, leaving Augusta's side for the first time. They stopped just short of Otho, looking down upon the loathsome man at their feet. They then placed both hands atop their helmet and shifted it to one side, then promptly lifted it off their head, to reveal the face of a woman. For such a fearsome warrior, she bore a soft, gentle looking face, but right now her intentions were about the furthest thing from soft and gentle.
"Hey, asshole, you want a chance to live?"
Otho didn't respond. He was unsure of how to react.
"Tell you what, we're gonna give you a chance to earn your freedom. All you gotta do is beat up a girl. Me. In your arena. Bladed knuckles against your machete. No power armor. Just the clothes on my back."
Otho remained silent for a moment more. "Are you serious?"
"Damn right. Should be easy for you, right? After all, I'm just a girl, and you're a big strong man."
"Veronica, are you sure about this?" Augusta asked, trying to hide her concern.
"What? You don't think I can take this jerkwad?" asked Veronica, looking back to the Courier.
"No, it's just, anything can happen in the arena."
"I accept your challenge, woman," Otho suddenly said, rising to his feet. "I'll be happy to remind the Legion that women have no place on the battlefield, let alone as rulers."
Veronica shifted back to Otho, an eager smile smeared across her face. "Man, I'm really gonna enjoy punching a hole in your big, dumb head."
"Alright, I guess we're doing this," Augusta said with a shrug. "Otho, you are hereby sentenced to trial by combat, to the death. Vulpes, spread word around the fort. Attendance to this contest will be mandatory."
The preparations had been completed. The audience was assembles. The combatants had taken their place. The fighters stood across from each other, their weapons readied. Both were equally confident of their success, yet only one would walk out alive. Caesar Augusta stood at the top of the hill overlooking the arena, surrounded by her praetorians. A quick look around would reveal everyone in the camp was trying to get a look inside. Even the slaves were permitted to watch. All that was left was to give the order. She hoped this was not a mistake. Augusta breathed deeply, and raised her right hand to signaled the command.
"Begin!"
Otho charged Veronica right away. He would overwhelm her weak feminine form with a flurry of strong attacks Veronica stood her ground and let him come. Soon he was upon her. He lifted his blade to strike at her neck. Veronica lifted her arm, catching his sword between the blades of her knuckles. She thrust forward with her left fist, digging her weapon into Otho's gut, tearing at his skin. The legionnaire let out a pained yell, and used his free hand to push on Veronica's chest and force her back. Veronica took a few steps backward and started circling him, thinking out her next move. Otho did the same.
Augusta, meanwhile, was a nervous wreck, even though she was excellent at hiding it. The woman she loved was down there, fighting for her life, and she could not interfere. She was powerless.
"Please don't die, Vee. Please don't die."
"Ease your mind, Caesar," came Lucius' voice from her side. He kept his eyes on the arena, looking stoic as always. "Your companion has been very well-trained. She has this fight well in hand."
Augusta stared at him, wondering what made him so sure. Then she looked back to the battle.
Otho charged again, but this time Veronica surged forward to meet him. She dodged his first attack and planted her right foot into Otho's knee. The legionnaire grimaced and buckled, iithen took another wild swing. Veronica dipped her head back. The blade barely caught her skin, leaving a small cut across her cheek. She then struck at his body twice more, and darted backwards before he could attack again. Otho stumbled about, but managed to keep from toppling over. Veronica's crushing blows to his mid section had taken away his strength and balance.
"No! I will not be defeated by a lowly woman!"
Veronica grinned, "The more shit you talk, the more painful I'm gonna make it."
Veronica charged this time, ready to finish this. Otho roared in defiance, holding his blade high in the air. When Veronica was in range he made his move. She caught the blade with her knuckles just as before, but Otho reared back and struck Veronica with a vicious headbutt. The blow nearly knocked her out cold. Otho tackled the stunned Veronica to the ground, and used both hands to slam her skull against the earth.
Augusta's face twisted into horror and dismay. She wanted to scream, but when Otho drove her Veronica's head into the dirt, the impact instead woke her up. With her regained senses, she twisted her legs into Otho's. When he reared back to land another blow, Veronica shifted her weight against his and reversed the position. Now she was on top. Veronica postured up and punched Otho square in the face. And again. And again. And again. Over and over. The first had stunned him. The second put him to sleep. Everything after punch number four was just stress relief. The audience gasped and roared while Veronica reduced Otho's visage to unrecognizable mush. Eventually Veronica's strikes slowed to a stop. There was nothing left where Otho's skull used to be but bits of skull and brains.
"Whew, well, I think I win," she said, climbing to her feet.
Veronica looked as if she had been swimming in blood. The crowd's cheers were all but deafening. They wanted violence, and they had received it. Veronica just smiled and waved. Augusta breathed a sigh of relief.
"I believe your companion proved her point rather well," said Vulpes, looking impressed.
"And what point is that, Vulpes?" Augusta asked, turning to the frumentarius.
"That even among the weaker sex, some exceptional specimens can be very capable, of course. What else?"
Augusta didn't respond. She just turned back to the gory scene below. She wasn't sure what she was expecting. She wouldn't be able to change their mindsets overnight. Still, this was a good start. At least her and Veronica had their respect. Mostly.
"Send an envoy to the Great Khans," she said to Vulpes. "I want to make sure they know which side they're on."
Vulpes nodded. "Right away, Caesar."