Chapter Text
“Elder Maxson, sir, there’s someone down at the airport asking to deliver a package to you?”
Arthur’s eyes were torn away from the report in his hand. “A package?” he repeated, one brow arching. The clipboard was given back to the Scribe next to him after his signature was imprinted on the paper it held, and he motioned that she could leave. “Any idea whom it is?”
Kells shook his head, stepping into the room. “No. I’ve had the courier escorted off the grounds to a safe location just outside the airport and placed under armed guard. We’ll have the package screened before we have it brought up as per safety protocols.”
“Go ahead and bring them up here with the escort after you screen it. Disarm them first, of course,” Arthur told his second. “If they felt it important enough to bring a package to my front door two weeks after we’ve arrived, then they must have something important to say.”
Kells nodded and ducked out of the room. Several minutes passed with only a few quick messages sent back and forth. Then a vertibird left the Prydwen, flying down to the airport, and a minute later, it was back. The door to the flight deck opened.
A young man stepped through carrying a box, looking wide-eyed and afraid. Behind him were two Knights, both of whom nudged him towards the observation room.
“Y-you’re,” the man swallowed, “you’re Elder Maxson?”
“I am,” Arthur confirmed as he remained where he was, hands folded behind his back in parade rest. “And you are?”
“Um- I have a package for you?” the courier said. “Postage is already paid.”
The Elder didn’t move to take it. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know, man! I’m not paid to give people my name, just hand out parcels! I already charged double to have to carry this over here!” His brows furrowed. “I’m a courier, man. It’s hard to do my job out here with all the super mutants and shit trying to eat me. I’m just trying to make a living.”
Arthur was quiet for a moment as he studied the courier, searching for any ulterior motive. The fact he was surrounded by countless soldiers and on a flying ship likely would have made him crack if he were hiding something—surely—but when there was no other explanation, Maxson gave a slight nod. “Take the package, pay him, and let him be on his way.”
The nearest Knight slid the package out of the courier’s grip as the man swallowed.
“Look, I can promise the guy who sent it isn’t the kind to mail bombs and shit, ok? He’s kind of an asshole but he paid the extra charges and stuff, and he didn’t warn me not to hold it some way or nothing so…” He shrugged.
“Yes, I know it isn’t a bomb,” Arthur replied, his tone casual. “You would have already told me if it were. Or blown up in the vertibird.”
“I will authorise payment,” Kells broke in. “Follow me.”
The Knight was left holding the package as Kells escorted the courier out of the room, along with the other Knight. “… your package, sir.”
“Thank you.” Taking it, he pulled the bow off—a red bow, of all things—and draped it over his arm before carefully opening the box.
Truthfully, Arthur wasn’t sure what to expect. Not a bomb, of course, because he knew it would have already exploded before it even reached the ship, but also not… this. Not a mask. It was some black mask that would cover almost all of his face except from his mouth and lower. But what the hell was it for?
A quick glance up at the Knight was made.
“Leave,” he ordered, though his tone wasn’t aggressive.
And once he was alone, he ran his fingers over it before pulling it out of the box and turning it around to look at the other side of it; only then did he take notice of the paper on the inside of the package.
Huh.
Maxson switched out the mask for the paper.
You are cordially invited to Mayor McDonough’s annual soirée on the 15th of June, 2288. The event will be hosted at Henry Cooke’s establishment, the Colonial Taphouse, and guests are expected to arrive from 6pm onwards. There will be refreshments as well as a three course meal and entertainment, along with the traditional beverages. Your seating arrangements are as below:
Seat: E
Seating partner: G
Dress code is formal/eveningwear.
There was no name on the invitation, nothing to confirm that it was addressed to him specifically, and no return address to RSVP.
One brow arched as he flipped the paper over, looking at the back, then did it again to see the front once more. That was… strange. What if he didn’t want to go, how was he supposed to tell whomever this ‘Mayor McDonough’ was? Not to mention they’d only been here all of two weeks, so why was he getting invitations to go places? Let alone places that required formalwear?
Grunting, the invitation, mask, and bow were all shoved into the box. “Ridiculous,” Arthur mumbled beneath his breath as he closed the package back up. He’d have to look into whomever this so-called Mayor was. The name sounded familiar, but he was still learning about the Commonwealth, so he had yet to memorize everything he’d come across.
And another thing: who the hell was ‘G’?
“Sir?” Kells called. “The courier has been escorted successfully off the premises.”
“Very good, Kells. Thank you.” There was a pause. “By the way, does the name ‘Mayor McDonough’ sound familiar to you?”
“That would be the mayor of Diamond City, I believe,” Kells replied. “Is that who sent you the package, I assume?”
“Yes, I believe so. Or, that’s what it says, at least.” He held the box out to his second-in-command. “I’m being invited to a sort of party.”
“You are what?” Kells barked, striding over. He took the box and opened it, pulling out the paper. His eyes scanned it rapidly. “This… isn’t addressed to anyone. Completely anonymous. It could be dangerous.”
“I’m going to assume the ‘E’ stands for ‘Elder,’” Arthur said. “Not to mention the courier specifically stated he requested more pay to deliver it up here.”
Kells frowned. “And who is this G? Until we know who else is attending, I would suggest as your Lancer-Captain that this event is too dangerous for you to consider it.”
Maxson waved one hand dismissively as he turned to face the window, peering out into the Commonwealth. “If it’s being held by the Mayor of Diamond City, then I would assume it to be crowded. And if I’m being sent a mask, my identity would be hidden.” His fingers ran through his beard. “I’ll wear civilian clothing and trim my beard, if I choose to go.”
“If,” Kells agreed. “Though I strongly advise you to simply throw this aside and forget about it. The Brotherhood is above such ridiculous domestic politics. The Mayor wants to send a message that he is in control and can call for us to visit him whenever he pleases. I advise returning his message with silence.”
Shooting the older man a look over his shoulder, Arthur made a quiet noise. “You very well know we are not above domestic politics. In fact, we are here because of domestic politics, whether you like to think of the Institute as such or not. Besides,” he turned back around to face Kells, “Meeting the mayor of the largest city in the Commonwealth seems like a very tactical decision, does it not?”
Kells snorted. “Reports indicate the man is incompetent. If you meet him, it will only be because it looks good. I doubt much will come from it. If our intel is correct, the man barely tolerates local militias like the Minutemen.”
“And why shouldn’t it look good?” Arthur shot back. “We’re here to help, are we not? I’ve made myself available to my soldiers, so why not to the people I’m offering assistance to? I do not want them to see me as some military leader in a floating castle, but rather as someone who is actually willing to be on the ground to see them eye-to-eye. Whether that night alone looks performative doesn’t matter because I’ll be inside the city and get to see it with my own eyes. This place is not like the Capital Wasteland and I want to find out why.”
Kells let out a sigh. “I understand sir. I’m merely concerned that the ridiculous inside politics of the city will be disruptive if we get involved.”
“Then let’s consider it a meet and greet,” Maxson said with a shrug.
You are cordially invited to Mayor McDonough’s annual soirée on the 15th of June, 2288. The event will be hosted at Henry Cooke’s establishment, the Colonial Taphouse, and guests are expected to arrive from 6pm onwards. There will be refreshments as well as a three course meal and entertainment, along with the traditional beverages. Your seating arrangements are as below:
Seat: G
Seating partner: E
Dress code is formal/eveningwear.
“Wow,” Nora stared down at the box in front of her, fingers toying with the red ribbon, “does this mean good things or bad things?”
“Wait, you actually got an invite to one of these things?” Preston asked.
Nora glanced over at him. “So this isn’t someone trying to assassinate me by pretending to invite me to a fake party?”
“They’re one of those Diamond City open secret things that rich people do,” he told her. “Piper talks about ‘em sometimes. Man, she’s gonna want all the details about this after you’re done. You realise that, right?”
She plucked the invite from the box, scanning it. “Wonder who the hell E is? Do you think it’s someone we know?”
“Maybe.” Preston shrugged. “But, the whole point of the masks is the anonymity, so you probably won’t be allowed to guess.”
“That spoils my fun,” Nora sighed. “Still. This should be entertaining. Six months in the Commonwealth and I’m already being invited to fancy people parties.”
“You’ve got control of all the food,” he pointed out. “They probably want you to get cosy and make some deals.”
“And I’d love to, but McDonough keeps vetoing Minuteman assistance to some of the supply convoys,” Nora muttered. She put the invite down. “Wow. Now I have to think about what the hell I’m supposed to wear. I might have to make something.”
“Right. I think wearing your coat and hat might destroy the whole anonymity thing they’re trying to go for,” Preston agreed with a grin.
“Wonder what happens if I don’t go?” Nora mused. “Do you really think they’d do anything in retaliation? Or will they just sneer at me a lot more?”
“If anyone could sneer at you more than the upper stands lot already are, they’d break something,” Preston snorted.
“Well,” Nora glanced down at her invite, “might as well go, even if it only happens once. After all, I can’t leave E all on their own, can I?”