So 4 is set ten years after 3 which makes Maxson, what, twenty? Thereabouts. I decided Em is 29 when she leaves the vault, making her the same age as the Lone Wanderer. It feels very significant that the heroes from all three of these Fallout games could be the same age, like the door is open for interesting cross-game meetings. Shipping, even! I'm not going that way in this story but someone else could have a lot of fun with it.

Also Maxson is so not played as twenty in the game. I mean, I could've decided to write him as basically an angsty teenager with a private army and not been wrong!

Begin Recording

Maxson

Recording by Scribe Ellison

I'd been prepared to like Elder Maxson. Danse idolized the guy, and he was the leader of an army so there had to be something to him. And there is, something.

Since he's called Elder I'd expected an elder, but Maxson is younger than I am by a good ten years. He was in his early twenties, probably the youngest person on the flight deck but carrying it off with height and broad shoulders and sheer presence. He strode onto the flight deck in his long coat and captured us all.

"Brothers and sisters, the road behind has been long and fraught with difficulty. Each and every one of you has surpassed my expectations by rapidly facilitating our arrival in the Commonwealth. You have accomplished this amazing feat without a hint of purpose or direction and most impressively, without question."

I think my eyes went wide and I looked at the people around me. Without question? Really? Every mission I send a troop of Minutemen on they know what they're doing, and if there's time they can discuss how to do it. I get questions every way I turn. Not no one else on the flight deck looked the least bit uncertain. This army was real in a way the Minutemen were not.

"Now that the ship is in position, it is time to reveal our purpose and our mission. Beneath the Commonwealth there is a cancer… known as the Institute, a malignant growth that needs to be cut out before it infects the surface. They are experimenting with dangerous technologies that could prove to be the world's undoing for the second time in recent history. The Institute scientists have created a weapon that transcends the destructive nature of the atom bomb… the synth. A robotic abomination of technology that is free-thinking and masquerades as a human being!

"This notion that a machine could be granted free will is not only offensive, but horribly dangerous! And like the atom, if it isn't harnessed properly it has the potential to render us extinct as a species.

"I am not prepared to allow the Institute to continue this line of experimentation. Therefore, the institute and their synths are considered enemies of the Brotherhood of Steel, and should be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. This campaign will be costly and many lives will be lost. But in the end we will be saving mankind from its worst enemy… itself. Ad Victoriam!"

Scribe, have you met Arthur Maxson? Or maybe I should say, have you ever been on the receiving end of one of his speeches? I've heard Desdemona give a few 'inspiring the troops' talks, she's really good at it. Preston's no slouch either no matter what he thinks, but Maxson is on a whole 'nother level. The man is hypnotic. Everyone around me started shouting "Ad Victoriam!" back and I just stood there stunned. And frightened. Hatred and suspicion of the Institute had done enough damage in Diamond City, and here was an army with the same mindset but a lot more guns. If they couldn't find the Institute to attack directly, where were those guns going to end up pointed?

The others on the flight deck, who must have been the officers of the Prydwen, dispersed back to their duties but Elder Maxson nodded to me to come join him at the windows. We were looking down at the shadowy ruins of Boston, now almost completely dark. There wasn't much civilization in the heart of the city besides super mutant bonfires.

Quietly Maxson said, "I care about them, you know. The people of the Commonwealth."

"And yet you're preparing for war in the Commonwealth."

"The Brotherhood is here to prevent a war by starting one of our own. The difference is, our war won't reduce civilization to ashes." And he sounded so confidant that I found myself nodding, even though what he'd just said made no damn sense. War is war, and it rolls over the innocent caught in its path. But I couldn't say that to this man. I could—I had—had this discussion with Danse who was curious about the wars of the old world and wanted to hear every detail I could remember of Nate's letters back from overseas.

"What did you want from me, sir?"

"I want you to start taking responsibility for this planet. To start making a difference. And from what I've seen in Paladin Danse's reports you've already begun that journey with your citizen soldiers. Seeing as he's one of my most respected field officers, you couldn't get a better recommendation. Therefor from this moment I'm granting you the rank of Knight. And befitting your title we're granting you a suit of power armor to protect you on the field of battle. Wear it with pride."

"Sir, I can't accept… I'm flattered, but I have other responsibilities and to be honest I don't agree with all of your beliefs." Though the idea of a brand new set of power armor was pretty tempting.

"Yet despite that, Paladin Danse still feels you'd be an asset to the Brotherhood. Please familiarize yourself with the Prydwen and meet my staff. Danse is your patron with us, and I hope you won't let him down." He saluted, fist-to-chest, and I nodded back and went to find Danse.

Nobody else seemed to mind me walking around their wonderful ship like a tourist; Danse's word meant a lot here. I didn't even get any glares for turning down the rank. I suppose claiming other responsibilities was a good reason.

The Prydwen is impressive to look at, but inside it's all gray steel and red lights and uncomfortable chairs. But the view… I opened a door and found myself on what must've been the forward deck, outside in the night air. The moon had risen and fallen Boston was illuminated dull blue with sparks of red where super mutants had lit bonfires.

Back inside, Danse had gotten out of his power armor and into the same uniform everyone else was wearing. "There you are. How did it go with Elder Maxson?"

I honestly didn't know so I said, "I was expecting the elder to be older. He's younger than anyone here, how does that work?"

"Don't let his age fool you. Maxson's a brilliant tactician, a formidable warrior and possesses an idealistic vision for the future of the Brotherhood. I'd follow him anywhere, without question."

"That's what worries me. That speech in there… he believes every word doesn't he? He's impressive, but he's going to get a lot of people hurt."

"As did the elder we had before him. Elder Lyons sent the brotherhood down a path that was leading nowhere but Maxson single handedly re-prioritized the Brotherhood and put us back on the path to glory. This ship is testament to that. Let me show it to you."

"Yes please! I'd like to meet everyone. Especially the officer in charge of collecting food from the settlers."

Danse sighed. "I hope you appreciate how much of a chance I'm taking bringing you into the fold this quickly. Not to put too fine a point on it, but you screw up… we go down together. So it probably shows that I've lost my mind that I'm going to take you to see Proctor Teagan so you can try negotiating. The scribes run on paperwork so you might even make it work."

So we went and did that. Proctor Teagan greeted me with, "I hope you're not one of those 'by the book' military types." Which was a good start.

"I'm not one of them. I'm here to talk to you about trading protection for food from the farms."

"What about it? Food stores don't replenish themselves you know, and we are here to protect them. Farmers ought to appreciate it."

"They do, but they'd like to set some standards to protect both sides. So you don't get stuck with moldy mutfruit." And I unfolded the several different contracts we'd written.

Danse said, "She does things like this." and sat down on a crate, because this was clearly going to take a while.

It did, but it worked. Proctor Teagan had been used to the citizens of the Capital, who were happy to support the Brotherhood who'd basically saved them from the Enclave. Arriving in the Commonwealth with similar expectations hadn't gone well.

And the Brotherhood had come to the Commonwealth with reports of scattered, struggling farms and people who'd be happy to have an army defending them and in awe of the Brotherhood's aircraft. Then they arrived and found a network of connected settlements and people who were already depending on the Minutemen and knew a protection racket when they heard one. Teagan was relieved to have a local representative—me—to deal with and set up trading with guarantees on paper. Now he didn't have to worry about the collecting parties getting shot by the locals or getting crates of rotten mutfruit instead of anything edible.

And that's how I ended up allies with the Brotherhood sort of behind the boss' back.