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As he passed the rows of houses, he heard snippets of life with a mother humming to her child, a couple arguing lightly over furniture placement, laughter spilling from an open window.
The morning broke bright and clear, the kind of day that promised progress. The fog that had so often wrapped itself around the ridge was gone now, burned away by sunlight that fell clean and golden over Sanctuary. The air smelled of dust, metal, and something faintly electric with the scent of machines stirring to life and the pulse of a community hard at work.
Sico was already on his feet before most of the settlement had finished breakfast. His boots crunched over the packed dirt path that wound from the main square to the southern ridge. The morning chill lingered still, but it carried with it the hum of a day alive with motion from distant hammering, the whir of drills, shouted voices of coordination carried on the wind.
He reached the ridge just as the sun crested the horizon, casting long shadows across the freshly built neighborhood. The twelve new homes stood proudly now, lined like sentinels guarding the heart of the Republic. Their roofs gleamed with dew; wisps of smoke curled from a few chimneys as families cooked their first real morning meals inside. The sight made something deep in Sico's chest loosen as pride, relief, and a fierce sense of purpose that steadied him for whatever came next.
But today wasn't about rest or reflection. Today was about building again as this time was bigger.
Down the slope to his left, a new construction zone sprawled outward: scaffolds, half-assembled steel beams, wooden supports, and cables snaking across the dirt. Sparks flew in bursts of bright orange where welders worked, and the clang of hammers echoed against the ridge. And in the middle of it all stood Sturges, sleeves rolled up, welding mask pushed back on his head, barking orders with that easy drawl of his.
"Careful with that section, boys! If the angle's off by even a hair, this whole wall'll end up lookin' like a drunk Brahmin walked into it!"
Sico smiled faintly at the sound as he approached. It had been nearly two weeks since Sturges and his core team returned from the transmitter project, their work there finally complete. Now, they were back where they belonged — here, turning blueprints into walls, and ruins into civilization.
"Morning, Sturges," Sico called as he stepped over a pile of coiled wires.
The man looked up, sweat streaking through the dust on his forehead. "Well, if it ain't the man himself! Mornin', boss. You here to check on my handiwork, or you just miss the smell of molten steel?"
"Bit of both," Sico said, stepping closer to examine the framework that rose before them. The section was tall that nearly twenty feet were made of cement that will reinforced with plates and welded supports. It extended outward, designed to connect directly into the main Sanctuary wall to form a full defensive ring.
He ran a hand along the nearest beam. The metal was still warm from welding. "You've been busy."
Sturges grinned, proud as ever. "Busy's my middle name, boss. We got half the connection points laid down by dawn. The rest'll be ready before sundown. Once we anchor this section, we'll have a solid barrier from the west road all the way to the river bend."
"And the inner support columns?"
"Already welded into place," Sturges said. "I've got my best crew on the load-bearing joints. These walls'll stand through anything short of a direct vertibird crash and maybe even that, if you give me another week to reinforce the plates."
Sico nodded approvingly. "Good. The Brotherhood's been quiet lately, but I don't intend to give them a soft target if they change their minds."
Sturges' grin faded slightly at the mention of the Brotherhood. "Ain't that the truth. Last I heard, some of their scouts were still roamin' out past the old airbase. Best to keep our fences high and our turrets higher."
Sico's gaze lingered on the wall, on the sparks dancing across its growing spine. "That's exactly why this needs to be perfect. Once it's done, Sanctuary won't just be a settlement as it'll be a fortress."
"Aye, sir," Sturges said, then clapped his gloves together and turned back toward his crew. "Alright, you heard the man! Let's make this wall tighter than a vault door!"
The workers laughed, the kind of easy laughter that came from shared effort and trust. It was the sound of people who had stopped just surviving and had started building again.
Sico stayed a moment longer, watching the wall take shape. The clang of metal on metal filled the air, steady and rhythmic like a heartbeat. Nearby, a team of engineers worked on trenching cables for the new power grid. Thick copper lines snaked through the dirt, connecting to junction boxes that would soon feed energy from Sanctuary's main generators into the ridge district.
He walked toward them next, stepping around a stack of concrete slabs. A woman with a bandana tied around her hair was crouched beside one of the junctions, tightening a bolt with practiced precision.
"How's the power line coming?" Sico asked.
She looked up quickly, startled to see him so close. "Oh, President Sico! Uh, it's going well, sir. We've got the first three houses connected to the main grid, and we're running tests on the load balance now. Should have stable current to all twelve by tonight."
"Good work," he said, crouching beside her. "You've been with the team long?"
"Since the Minutemen, sir." she said with a shy smile. "Never thought I'd end up working on something like this. Real power, real homes. Feels… different."
Sico nodded. "It should. You're not just fixing the past — you're building the future."
The woman looked down again, trying to hide the smile that tugged at her lips. "Thank you, sir. We'll have this line stable before lunch."
He left her to her work and moved further down the ridge.
The scene below was a picture of organized chaos. Settlers carried boxes and crates from wagons — furniture, blankets, bits of scavenged décor — and disappeared into the new homes. Children ran between the houses, their laughter echoing like music. A man was painting a crude sign over one door that read The Emersons, while another family arranged chairs outside under a small awning.
For the first time, the southern ridge wasn't just a work site. It was becoming a neighborhood.
Sico stopped near the first completed house, where a middle-aged couple were lifting a dresser through the doorway. He moved to help without a word, taking one side of the heavy wood frame.
"Careful with that step," he said.
The woman blinked in surprise. "Oh, thank you, sir, we didn't expect—"
He smiled faintly. "No titles here. Just Sico. Where do you want it?"
They set the dresser down against the far wall. The house smelled faintly of fresh paint and new wood. Sunlight streamed through the open window, catching on the metal floor plates.
"Right there's perfect," the man said, breathing hard. "Didn't think I'd ever live in a place with real walls again. After Quincy… well, we stopped hoping."
Sico looked around the small home — bare, simple, but solid. "Hope's not something you find," he said quietly. "It's something you build."
The man nodded slowly, emotion flickering behind his eyes. "Guess that's what we're doing now."
"You are," Sico said. "And you're doing it well."
He stepped back outside, letting the door swing shut behind him. The settlement stretched before him — workers at the wall, engineers at the cables, settlers at their new homes. It was alive, pulsing with the energy of purpose.
Albert appeared at his side a few minutes later, dust clinging to his boots. "Looks like the move-ins are going smooth," he said. "Families from the coast settled into the first four homes last night. More are coming from the south road this afternoon."
"Good," Sico said. "We'll need the manpower for the next phase of construction. Once the wall's secured, we expand east. Agricultural plots, workshops, then maybe a proper market."
Albert grinned. "A market, huh? You planning to give Diamond City a run for its caps?"
"Something like that," Sico said, his gaze sweeping the horizon. "If we can give people a reason to stay, trade will come naturally. Sanctuary's meant to be more than just a fortress. It has to be a home."
The two men stood there for a moment, watching as Sturges' team finished aligning another wall section. The metallic plates slid into place with a heavy clang, locking into the foundation bolts. Sparks flared again as welders sealed the joints.
Albert whistled low. "Never thought I'd see the day we'd be building walls that could rival pre-war fortifications."
Sico smiled slightly. "Neither did I. But here we are."
He walked closer to the construction zone, calling out to Sturges. "How soon until we reach the main Sanctuary wall?"
Sturges glanced up from a blueprint, squinting through the sunlight. "At this pace? Three, maybe four days, tops. Depends on how fast the next shipment of steel gets here. If the convoy don't run into trouble, we'll have it all connected before the weekend."
"Make it happen," Sico said. "Once that link's complete, Sanctuary Ridge becomes part of the Republic's central defense ring."
Sturges nodded firmly. "You got it, boss."
As the hours passed, the day grew hotter, the hum of labor rising to a steady rhythm. The air shimmered with heat from welding arcs, and the clang of construction echoed across the hills. Sico spent the day walking between sites — from the wall to the power grid, from the housing rows to the small plaza that settlers had begun clearing near the ridge's base. He offered advice where needed, lent a hand when something jammed, and listened when workers spoke of their hopes for the district's future.
By mid-afternoon, the first section of the new wall stood completely upright, anchored and sealed. It loomed high against the skyline — strong, gleaming, and unyielding.
Sico stood before it with his hands resting on his hips, dust streaking his sleeves, eyes bright with quiet pride. Behind him, children ran past carrying small bundles of wildflowers, laughing as they went. One of them paused, staring up at the wall with wide eyes.
"Mister Sico," she said, "is this wall gonna keep the monsters out?"
He crouched down to her level, a faint smile touching his face. "It will," he said. "But it'll do more than that. It'll keep you safe, and give you a place to grow."
The little girl smiled shyly and ran off, her laughter echoing down the path.
As evening fell, the ridge glowed under the sunset — copper and gold washing over the metal and wood. Workers packed up tools, their tired voices carrying through the warm air. Smoke from the cookfires drifted upward, mingling with the scent of earth and oil.
The evening light stretched long and golden across Sanctuary, softening the hard lines of metal and stone into something almost tender. The wind carried the scent of cooked brahmin stew and freshly cut wood, winding between the new homes and through the ridges beyond. The sounds of construction had begun to fade from hammers silenced, drills cooling that replaced by laughter, chatter, and the quiet hum of life returning to routine.
Sico stood for a moment longer near the wall before brushing the dust from his coat. The day's work weighed pleasantly on his body with a deep, earned fatigue that came with purpose. The wall stood firm now, its first completed section catching the last gleam of sunset like a promise made to the land itself. Behind it, the houses glowed with warm lamplight. Families ate. Children laughed. Somewhere, a harmonica played a tune old as the ruins they'd built upon.
But Sico's mind didn't rest with the sunset. His thoughts were already moving but not on walls or wires, but on what came next.
More settlers were coming. The latest scout reports from Graygarden and Tenpines Bluff confirmed what he'd expected: word of the Republic's growth had spread faster than anyone imagined. Farmers, wanderers, traders as they were all coming north, drawn by the rumors of safety, structure, and stability. Sanctuary was becoming a beacon. And a beacon needed to feed its people.
That meant one thing.
Farms.
And not just any patchwork gardens, either as they'd need full-scale, organized agriculture zones to sustain the growing population. The soil around the southern ridge was fertile enough if properly worked, and irrigation lines could easily extend from the river bend once the wall was fully secured. It would be tough work, but Sico knew exactly who could make it happen.
Jenny.
She had been the heart of Sanctuary's food production since the earliest days of rebuilding with practical, brilliant, and unflinchingly tough. She understood the land better than anyone and had built her farm from nothing but stubbornness and scrap metal. If anyone could lead a second expansion farm at the ridge, it was her.
Sico turned toward the northern path that wound down toward the old Sanctuary farmlands. The light was dimming fast now, dusk draping the horizon in lavender hues. Crickets had started to sing. He walked at a steady pace, the dirt road crunching beneath his boots, the faint hum of generators fading behind him.
The path curved between two newly repaired lamp posts that their bulbs flickering to life, and soon opened into the wide expanse of Jenny's farm.
The place was alive with motion even at this hour. Rows of corn and mutfruit glowed faintly in the lantern light, their leaves whispering in the evening breeze. A few settlers were still at work tending to the irrigation pumps or stacking crates of produce near the barn. The air was thick with the scent of tilled soil, brahmin musk, and the sweet sharpness of fresh crops.
Jenny herself stood near the well, one hand braced on her hip, the other holding a ledger smeared with dirt. Her straw hat sat crooked on her head, a streak of mud across her cheek. Even exhausted, she radiated that kind of energy that came from being indispensable.
When she saw Sico approaching, her eyebrows lifted. "Well, well. Didn't think I'd see the president of the Republic strollin' down my way this late in the day."
Sico smiled faintly. "President or not, I still have to check in on the people keeping us all fed."
She snorted, setting the ledger down on a nearby crate. "That's a nice way of sayin' you're about to ask for more work."
"Guilty," Sico admitted, stepping closer. "You always were quick to catch on."
Jenny crossed her arms, pretending to scowl but unable to hide the glint of amusement in her eyes. "Alright then, let's hear it. What's the next big idea?"
Sico leaned against the fence beside her, glancing over the darkening fields. "The southern ridge. The wall construction's moving fast, which faster than I expected. Once it connects with Sanctuary's main defense line, it'll open up a lot of new ground. Flat land, rich soil, good water access. I want to turn it into farmland before the first summer heat hits."
Jenny's expression shifted slightly. "That's… ambitious."
"It has to be," Sico said. "We've got more settlers coming in every week. Families, traders, former Minutemen. The food demands are already pushing our current farms to their limits. If we don't expand production now, we'll be stretched thin by the next season."
Jenny nodded slowly, running a hand through her hair. "How big are you thinkin'?"
Sico pointed toward the ridge in the distance, where faint lights still glowed from the ongoing construction. "About fifty acres to start. Enough to handle crop rotation and livestock pens. We can extend irrigation from the main line Sturges built by the old river trench."
She gave a low whistle. "That's no small patch, Sico. You're talkin' a whole second farm."
"I know," he said quietly. "That's why I want you leading it."
Jenny blinked. "Me?"
"You've turned this place into the Republic's breadbasket," Sico said, motioning around the farm. "You built this from nothing — from rust and seed and sweat. I can't think of anyone better to oversee the new one."
Jenny let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "You sure know how to flatter a lady. But… that's a lot of ground to cover. I'd have to split my team."
"You'll take your core group," Sico said. "The ones you trust most. I'll assign a dozen settlers from the new ridge district to work under you. They'll need guidance, as most of them have never farmed a day in their lives. But they'll learn fast."
Jenny was quiet for a long moment, studying his face. The light from the barn lanterns caught in her eyes. "You really think the ridge soil can handle full crop cycles?"
"I've already tested it," Sico said. "We took samples two weeks ago. The soil's dense with minerals and moisture. You'll need to till deep and run the purifier lines from the southern pump, but it'll grow."
Jenny exhaled, leaning against the fence post. "You've thought this through."
"I've had time," Sico said. "Every time I looked at those new houses going up, I saw what comes next. People can't live on walls and hope alone."
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "No, they can't."
The two stood in silence for a moment, listening to the soft rustle of crops in the breeze. A pair of settlers passed by, carrying baskets of tatos, giving Sico respectful nods as they went.
Finally, Jenny spoke. "Alright. I'll do it."
Sico turned to her, a spark of gratitude in his eyes. "You're sure?"
She nodded firmly. "If the Republic's growin', I wanna be part of makin' sure it thrives. We'll start marking out the plots tomorrow. I'll need materials from fencing, irrigation pipes, fertilizer if we can spare any."
"You'll have it," Sico said. "I'll speak to Albert and Sturges tonight. We'll prioritize your supplies."
Jenny smiled, a real one this time. "You know, Sico, sometimes I forget you're supposed to be the guy sittin' behind a desk makin' speeches."
"I try not to remind people," he said with a small laugh. "I get more done this way."
"No argument there."
Sico looked out across the fields again, his expression softening. "The southern ridge will change everything, Jenny. It won't just feed Sanctuary — it'll feed the Republic. A symbol of what we can make together."
She studied him for a moment, the wind tugging at her hat. "You really believe that, don't you?"
He met her gaze. "I do. And I think people will too, once they see it."
Jenny gave a slow nod. "Then we'll make it happen. Me and the crew'll head out at first light."
Sico extended his hand. "Thank you, Jenny. Really."
She shook it firmly, her grip rough with calluses. "Don't thank me yet, boss. Wait until we've got somethin' growin'."
He smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing. "Fair enough."
The night had deepened fully now, the stars scattered bright across the sky. The lanterns around the farm flickered softly, casting golden halos over the crops. Somewhere nearby, a brahmin lowed sleepily. It felt peaceful — not the fragile peace of survival, but the steady, earned calm of progress.
Jenny turned back to her workers, calling out, "Alright, folks! Let's wrap it up for tonight. We got a big day tomorrow!"
The settlers murmured their acknowledgment, gathering tools and heading toward the barns. Sico lingered a moment longer, watching as they moved with tired but smiling, full of the quiet determination that had built everything around them.
The next morning came not with the blare of alarms or the crash of machines, but with the quiet rhythm of life waking at Sanctuary with the sound of footsteps, voices, and the soft hiss of early fog burning off under sunlight.
Sico had risen before dawn. Sleep had been short, his mind already turning over lists and plans long before the first light crept through his window. When he stepped outside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of metal and dew. In the distance, the southern ridge shimmered under the pale light of sunrise, where the silhouettes of cranes and scaffolding stood waiting for another long day.
He adjusted the cuff of his coat, slung his sidearm into its holster, and began walking toward the site. The dirt path was lined with fresh ruts from supply carts, and the faint hum of generators echoed through the valley. A few early risers nodded to him as he passed as soldiers finishing night patrols, settlers hauling crates, and workers gathering for the morning briefing.
By the time he reached the ridge, the world was fully awake.
The wall stood half-complete but proud with a jagged line of steel and reinforced concrete stretching along the southern edge of Sanctuary's perimeter. It wasn't pretty, but it was strong. Weld lines still glowed faintly in places, where torches from last night's shifts had cooled only hours ago. Smoke drifted lazily from the forge tents, where workers prepared more sections to be lifted into place.
Sturges was already there, as Sico expected. The man had grease on his hands, a smudge of soot across his forehead, and the unmistakable grin of someone finally back where he belonged as he was surrounded by machines, blueprints, and the sweet noise of progress.
When Sico approached, Sturges looked up from a set of schematics spread across a makeshift table. "Mornin', boss. You beat the sun again, huh?"
Sico returned a faint smile. "Old habits. How's the tower last calibrating yesterday?"
"Wrapped up calibrating last night," Sturges said proudly, wiping his hands on a rag. "Signal's stable, output doubled. My boys are back in full swing." He turned, gesturing toward the workers who were already hauling girders into position.
"Good," Sico said, scanning the site. "We need this section finished by week's end. Once the ridge is secure, we can start running the defense grid through the wall's internal conduit."
Sturges nodded, folding his arms. "You got it. I've got Mel's tech guys helping wire the sensors too, as they're slick with the small stuff."
"Keep them close," Sico said. "No mistakes this time. The ridge is going to be the Republic's first line of defense once we expand south."
Sturges raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of expandin' — heard you're settin' up another farm down there?"
Sico gave a short nod. "Jenny's leading it. She and her crew should be here soon. The soil's ready; we just need to start carving out the plots."
Sturges chuckled. "She's a good pick. Tough as an old wrench, that one. Reminds me of my ma, rest her soul."
Sico allowed himself a small laugh. "That's one way to put it."
They both turned to watch as the morning light spilled fully across the ridge, igniting the world into motion. The workers had formed into teams now with some digging out foundation trenches, others guiding large slabs into position with cranes and pulley lines. Sparks leapt like fireflies as welding torches hissed to life. The rhythmic clank of hammers and steel echoed over the valley.
Sico walked among them, the familiar hum of labor steady beneath his boots. He spoke little, but his presence was felt showing a quiet command that carried through the noise. When he stopped beside a welder struggling to align a beam, he didn't hesitate to kneel down and lend a hand. Together, they adjusted the joint until it fit perfectly, the metal sliding into place with a satisfying click.
"Good," Sico said, patting the man's shoulder before moving on.
It was the hands-on work, the sweat and grit of creation that that he loved most. It wasn't about speeches or strategy meetings, not really. It was about building something real. Every wall raised, every beam locked into place, was another piece of the Republic taking shape.
By midmorning, the site was alive.
The heat had begun to rise, and the air shimmered above the steel frames. Sturges shouted orders from a scaffold, his voice booming over the clatter of tools. "Watch that line! No gaps on the weld! We're building somethin' that's supposed to outlive us, folks!"
And the workers laughed and tired but proud.
Then, from the dirt road below, came the rumble of wagons.
Sico turned, narrowing his eyes against the sunlight. A small convoy approached with four carts laden with crates, barrels, and farming equipment. A pair of brahmin pulled each one, their tails swishing lazily. Walking alongside them were settlers with hoes and shovels slung over their shoulders, and at their head, wearing her crooked straw hat and a look of iron determination, was Jenny.
Sturges spotted them too, grinning wide. "Well, speak of the devil."
Sico descended the scaffold path to meet them. As the convoy drew to a stop, Jenny hopped off the lead wagon, landing with a dusty thud.
"Morning, boss," she said, wiping her brow. "Hope you left some room for a farm down here."
Sico smiled faintly. "Plenty of room. You made good time."
"Didn't have much choice," she said, jerking a thumb toward the wagons. "Had a dozen folks chompin' at the bit to start somethin' new. I figured the sooner we got here, the sooner we could get our hands dirty."
Behind her, her team was already unloading supplies — irrigation pipes, seed crates, fencing tools, and rolls of purified soil filters. A few settlers from the ridge came to help, curious and eager.
Sturges approached, hands on his hips. "Look at this operation. You bringin' a farm or a whole dang marketplace, Jenny?"
She shot him a grin. "You just worry about your wall, Sturges. I'll make sure you've got food to eat while you're building it."
He laughed, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough."
Sico gestured toward the open land beyond the wall. "Let's pick your ground."
Jenny nodded, tucking her ledger under her arm. Together, they walked past the edge of the construction site, where the terrain began to slope gently downward into wide, open plains. The soil here was dark and rich, broken only by patches of wild grass and the occasional stubborn shrub. Beyond that, the river curved like a silver thread through the valley, glinting under the midday sun.
Jenny crouched, scooping a handful of dirt between her fingers. She rubbed it, then let it fall back to the ground. "Good density. You were right, this'll take a crop easy if we clear it right."
"We'll need the plots close to the water for irrigation," Sico said. "And a perimeter fence within sight of the wall. I don't want anything catching us off guard if raiders start testing our borders."
"Smart," Jenny said, standing again. She scanned the landscape, eyes sharp and calculating. "Alright. I'm thinkin' we start here." She pointed toward a stretch of ground just south of the ridge's base with a open, flat, with a small slope leading toward the river. "We can build the main farmstead here from toolshed, storage barn, and housing for workers. Fields'll spread out westward. Easy access to the road, and close enough to call for help if trouble shows up."
Sico followed her gaze, nodding slowly. "That'll do. Let's get it marked."
Jenny whistled sharply, signaling her team. "Alright, folks! This here's our new home plot! I want stakes every twenty paces — mark the corners and rows! Tools on the right, irrigation gear left side! Let's move!"
Her crew sprang into action with practiced efficiency. Settlers fanned out, driving wooden stakes into the soil and running twine between them. Others began unloading lumber from the wagons, stacking it in neat piles. The rhythmic sound of hammers soon filled the air again, blending seamlessly with the noise from the wall construction nearby.
Sico watched it all unfold, his chest swelling with a quiet pride. Two great projects that is the wall and the farm, growing side by side. Defense and sustenance. Strength and survival. The Republic was finally becoming more than an idea.
He moved between the groups, helping where he could. When a young settler struggled to secure a fence post, Sico took the hammer from him and drove the spike deep with three solid blows. The settler grinned in awe.
"Didn't think the President did manual labor," the boy joked.
Sico handed the hammer back with a smirk. "Don't tell anyone. They'll start expecting it."
Laughter rippled through the crew.
By noon, the first outline of the new farm had taken shape. The framework for the main barn stood halfway complete, its beams stretching tall against the bright blue sky. Workers were digging trenches for irrigation pipes, connecting them to the main water line that snaked down from the ridge. Jenny moved among them like a conductor, barking orders and offering advice.
Sturges, never one to sit still, had even brought a small team of engineers over from the wall to help rig the pump housing. "Can't have you folks goin' thirsty," he said, tightening a bolt with a grin.
Sico took it all in as the noise, the heat, the smell of fresh-turned soil and hot metal. That felt something settle inside him. For months, it had been planning and rebuilding, war and negotiation. Now, for the first time, he could see the Republic growing. Not just surviving. Becoming alive.
As the day wore on, the sky turned the color of bronze, and shadows lengthened across the ridge. The wall had risen another few meters; the farm's first irrigation trench gleamed with fresh water. Settlers sat on crates eating lunch together, sharing canteens and stories, their laughter ringing out over the land.
A week passed with a seven long, sun-warmed days that blurred together in a rhythm of work, dust, and triumph.
By the time the seventh sunrise broke over the ridge, Sanctuary southern ridge had changed again. What had once been a field of scaffolds and half-welded plates now stood as a continuous bastion of steel and stone with the southern wall complete, its spine welded into the original Sanctuary perimeter like a scar healed stronger than before. The new battlements gleamed in the early light, sharp and proud, the Republic's banner fluttering along the top where the wind from the river swept clean and high.
Sico stood upon that wall now, one hand resting on the cool metal of the railing as he looked out over the land they had tamed. The view was magnificent in its own, hard-won way showing progress carved out of wilderness. Below him, the last scaffolds were being taken down. Welders were packing up their torches, and a few mechanics were running diagnostics on the defense grid nodes embedded within the wall's structure. From one end to the other, the faint hum of power ran like a heartbeat through the steel, a quiet promise that this border would hold.
Behind the wall stretched the beginnings of what would soon be a second heart of Sanctuary southern ridge, which is the farm that Jenny and her team are built.
He could see it from where he stood: the neat grid of fencing, the outline of irrigation lines glinting silver in the morning sun, the dark, rich soil tilled and waiting. Workers and settlers moved between the rows like threads weaving a tapestry with some carrying crates of seeds, others hammering in the final supports for the greenhouse frames. It was nearly complete. All that remained now was the planting.
And it wasn't just a farm anymore. It was a settlement within a settlement as barns, silos, toolhouses, and a small workers' hall had sprung up around it, their walls built from salvaged wood and sheet metal painted in warm, earthen tones. A few brahmin grazed lazily near the water troughs while a pair of settlers tested the new irrigation pumps, water flowing in steady, rhythmic bursts into the channels that fed the rows.
Sico smiled faintly. It had been one hell of a week.
He turned as Sturges climbed the stairs to the wall, wiping his hands with a rag and grinning that same grease-streaked grin he always wore when something actually worked. "Well, boss," he said, slapping the railing. "She's done. Tight as a drum and prettier than a brahmin in springtime."
Sico raised an eyebrow. "That's one way to describe a wall."
"Hey, I've spent a week breathin' metal dust and argon fumes," Sturges said with a laugh. "You'll forgive me if I get poetic." He leaned on the railing beside him, looking out over the ridge. "Hard to believe, huh? This whole stretch used to be a deathtrap. Now it's part of Sanctuary. Hell, it is Sanctuary."
Sico nodded, his gaze sweeping across the newly fortified perimeter. "You and your crew did good work, Sturges. Better than I could've asked for."
Sturges grinned, scratching at his neck. "Aw, don't get all mushy on me now. You'll make me blush in front of the boys."
Sico chuckled, shaking his head. "How's the grid holding?"
"Running smooth," Sturges said proudly. "Power's stable, sensors all linked. The moment anything bigger than a molerat crosses that line, the turrets'll know before we do. Mel's been tuning the relay, as he says the comm feed reaches as far as Tenpines now."
"Good," Sico murmured. "That's what I wanted. No more blind spots. The Republic needs to be connected, like a nervous system. Every part knows what the other's doing."
Sturges tilted his head, squinting toward the fields below. "And speakin' of parts… looks like Jenny's about ready for the grand finale."
Sico followed his gaze. Down below, Jenny's voice carried faintly through the air, sharp and commanding even from a distance. She was standing near the center of the new farmstead, her hands on her hips, directing her crew with the same tireless energy she'd shown since the day she arrived.
"Alright, folks! That's the last of the frame supports! Get those crates open, we're planting by sunset!"
Settlers moved fast around her, their chatter and laughter drifting upward in waves. It was the sound of hope.
Sico watched for a moment longer, then turned to Sturges. "I'll head down there. Make sure everything's on track."
Sturges gave him a mock salute. "You go do your president thing. I'll keep the lights on up here."
Sico descended from the wall, boots ringing softly against the new steel steps. As he crossed the yard toward the farm, the air grew warmer with the scent of soil, wood, and river water. The hum of machinery faded behind him, replaced by the earthy rhythm of work — shovels biting into dirt, laughter, the squeak of cart wheels rolling over gravel.
Jenny spotted him before he even reached the gate. "There you are! Thought you'd gone and buried yourself in blueprints again!"
Sico smiled faintly. "Not today. I wanted to see this for myself."
"Well, you picked a good time," Jenny said, sweeping an arm across the view. "We're down to the last stretch. Once we get these crops in, this place'll be runnin' on its own."
He looked around, genuinely impressed. "You've done a lot in a week."
"Damn right we have," she said with pride. "Got the irrigation system running yesterday. Water's pullin' straight from the river and filterin' clean. The new settlers from the ridge are learnin' fast too. I swear, you'd think half of 'em were farmers in another life."
"Maybe they were," Sico said softly. "Or maybe they just needed something to believe in."
Jenny smiled at that, showing a weary but genuine smile. "Ain't that the truth." She picked up a hoe leaning against a barrel and handed it to him. "Here. Since you're here, might as well get your hands dirty. Let's make this official."
Sico accepted it with a small laugh. "You're not going to let me get away clean, are you?"
"Not a chance, boss. Everyone plants their own mark here — leaders included."
Together they walked toward the first plot, where a dozen settlers were already waiting with baskets of seeds. The soil was freshly turned, dark and moist under the sun. Someone handed Sico a small bag that contain corn seed, bright and golden.
He crouched, dug a small trench with the edge of the hoe, and poured the seeds into the earth. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, softly, almost to himself, he murmured, "To growth. To peace."
Jenny heard and nodded quietly. "To the Republic."
The settlers around them echoed the words, their voices blending into a warm chorus. "To the Republic."
It wasn't a cheer, not a roar but just a quiet, steady affirmation that carried more weight than any speech could.
Sico stood and handed the hoe back to Jenny. "I think you just made this place official."
"Damn right I did," she said, grinning. "Now don't go runnin' off before lunch — we're celebratin' tonight. You and your people earned it."
He inclined his head. "I'll be there."
The rest of the day flowed like a well-tuned rhythm.
By afternoon, the fields began to transform — rows of crops carefully planted, watered, and labeled with makeshift wooden signs. Corn, mutfruit, tatos, razorgrain. The kind of crops that meant not just food, but trade, stability, independence. Settlers worked shoulder to shoulder, laughing as they wiped sweat from their brows. Kids from Sanctuary even wandered down to help, their small hands pressing seeds into the soft earth under Jenny's watchful eye.
By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, everything was in place.
The southern wall stood seamless and strong, the power grid humming like a heartbeat through its metal veins. The farm stretched wide and fertile below it, its rows glistening under the last rays of light. Lanterns began to flicker on along the fences, bathing the fields in a warm amber glow.
Sico found himself standing once again between those two great works — the wall behind him, the farm before him. Two halves of the same dream.
Sarah approached from the patrol line, dust on her boots and a small smile on her lips. "It's done, huh?"
"It's done," Sico said quietly.
She looked around, taking in the sight. "It's strange. I remember when Sanctuary was just a handful of shacks and hope. Now look at it has walls, farms, power, order."
He shook his head slightly. "We did. All of us. It's what the Commonwealth was supposed to be before everything fell apart."
Sarah nodded, watching the workers below as they gathered near the barns where Jenny was setting up a few tables for dinner. "And now it's becoming something better."
As the first stars began to appear above, the settlement lit up — lanterns along the fences, lamps on the wall, the soft blue glow of the generators casting long shadows across the ridge. Laughter drifted through the air, the kind that only came after long, hard work finally paid off.
Sturges joined them then, wiping his hands on his ever-present rag. "Boss," he said, "Jenny's got stew goin' down there. Smells better than anythin' that's come outta the mess hall in months. You comin'?"
Sico smiled. "Wouldn't miss it."
The three of them — the builder, the soldier, and the leader — walked down together toward the light and warmth of the farmstead. Settlers greeted them with nods and smiles, and Jenny waved them over, ladle in hand.
"About time you showed up!" she called. "Grab a bowl before the kids eat all the meat!"
The laughter that followed rolled through the fields like music.
That night, as the stars spread wide over Sanctuary and the new wall stood sentinel in the distance, the people of the Freemasons Republic gathered to eat, talk, and dream. The firelight painted their faces gold, and for the first time in a long, long while, there was peace — not the fleeting kind that comes after battle, but the enduring kind born from creation.
________________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-