[@Karos]

[color=#ff3333]"Hrmph."[/color] The paladin grunted, sizing up the small, polite figure before him. [color=#ff3333]"If you truly seek to [i]oeuvre[/i] with The Order, then you may speak with Captain Fillimore; he's in the nearby Order Barracks. He may have a mission for someone such as.. yourself.[/color]"

The paladin would turn around, uncharging his gatling laser - a dash disappointing that the newcomer didn't challenge him to a fight, but at least he saved the janitor the ugly job of sweeping away the dust that would be left of Sebastian Monroe. He'd give the stealth suited figure on long, hard look of curiosity, before continuing on with his job, patrolling the place for stragglers such as the stealth suit. The moment the paladin turned the corner, an ugly dispute would sound - as the argument continued on for a brief moment, a wide berth of lasers would appear next to the castle, and the argument would rapidly end.

In the nearby Order Barracks, located in close proximity to the castle, the entire building was in a state of ugly civil strife - Knights and Initiates turning on each other, everyone arguing as to how the "French Revolution" problem should be dealt with. Each trooper was sitting around a large, circular wooden table, with a paper map of Orleans in the center, drawing various lines and x marks on spots they believed were key points for revolutionist activity; Captain Fillimore seemed to be making many key decisions - a high ranking, uniformed ghoul, his head in his hands with a headache as he watched his troops roar at each other. 

[@Tuxedo Fox]

[color=#ffd11a][i]"Merci.[/i] As the head repre-representative of the Ord-Order Trading Federation, it's my duty to inform you of our policies regarding proper trading protocol."[/color] The synth said, his artificial yellow eyes lighting up. [color=#ffd11a]"This official trading statement provides further information and worked examples on our trading services. The statement forms part of our agreement with you.."[/color]

The synth continued droning on blankly, standing stiff as a board with his arms straight at his sides. His eyes had become unfocused as the preprogrammed trading agreement was read, C3-405's voice gradually growing faster and faster it until it was all but a hazy, unintelligible mess of trading licenses and other legal agreements to ensure the safety of The Order in terms of laws. It continued on for at least several minutes, as the jumbled words continued being spewed out of his mouth at a completely impossible to understand rate by any human's standards; even repeating the laws in several long gone languages that he had somehow picked up.

[color=#ffd11a]"-until the trading has been completed."[/color] The synth had finished his long winded speech, and several sparks hissed from the visible wiring. [color=#ffd11a]"If you break any of these laws in any way, shape, or form, you will be prosecuted depending on the severity. Thank you for listening, and enjoy trading in the Trading Outpost of Orleans.[/color]

The synth hurried back down along the shore of the river, clutching his clipboard close to his chest as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd of robots, ghouls, and super mutants. The port seemed to be particularly active today; perhaps it was due to the fresh autumn air, or the newest batches of ships arriving, but there was certainly a sense of activity that was usually rare in the trading outpost. Boss would see several Order Knights hurry along, equipping laser rifles and scatter lasers, rushing toward the East Coast of the peninsula, where there seemed to be large explosions, gunfire, and laser beams echoing through the outpost.

[@Ulstermann]

[color=#ff5050][i]"Ah, vous parlez français? {Ah, you speak French?}"[/i][/color] The knight asked, a mix of inquisitiveness and amusement in his voice. [color=#ff5050][i]That's rare from outsiders - to most, it's a dead language. You must have done your research."[/i][/color]

The knight captain would continue strolling leisurely down the street, with the precision and speed of a man who was used to tucking through crowds of people - a large, marble building coming into view, covered with red and gold banners and flanked by a variety of Order Knights and Paladins, each wielding a laser rifle - some modded, with different scopes, barrels, and grips, others painted, their red and gold flaked laser rifles gleaming in the early autumn sun. Each knight would acknowledge the knight captain as he passed, with a simple [color=#ff531a][i]Chef.[/i][/color] or [color=#ff531a][i]Sir.[/i][/color] 

[color=#ff5050][i]"Et bien,[/i] not always. They've been pushing closer as of recen - wait, a little east on the peninsula..? [i]Excuse moi[/i] for a moment."[/color] The knight captain pulled aside a stray paladin and exchanged quiet words in rapid French. The paladin quickly turned, gathering some men of his own, and began to walk to the far east, laser rifles up. [color=#ff5050]"Thank you for alerting me. And - well, that's not quite a question - [i]des sons[/i] more like an offer."[/color]

The knight captain opened the door for Tom Carson, allowing him into the large, marble brick building - the inside being a rich, aromatic area. The lighting of the house stemmed from several small candles, illuminating the place and giving it an intoxicating, sweet smell. The entire inside seemed to be paneled with bog wood - beautiful grain spanning it. A large dinner table sat in the center of room, hand-crafted out of bogwood, next to a flickering fireplace with a Radstag head plaque above it. The man took a seat at the head, offering Tom Carson a seat at the opposing end - a nearby chrome Mister Handy unit suddenly reaching out to jab Tom in the arm with a stimpack.

[color=#ff5050][i]"Bienvenue, fais comme chez toi." {Welcome, make yourself at home.}[/i][/color] The knight captain said, his chrome mister handy unit laying out a delicious meal on the table, pouring wine into the glasses. [color=#ff5050]"Do you care for a broiled Radstag flank? I hunted it myself, yesterday night - still fresh. A side of white wine would pair well - ah, Gearington - please play Vivaldi's 'Spring.'[/color]

The Mister Handy unit would begin playing an artificial replay of Vivaldi's "Spring" - and the whole scene seemed like something completely pre-war. It was evident Orleans had progressed substantially.