[color=7ea7d8]High Elder Gladstone – Western Brotherhood[/color]

Entrant after entrant was announced, and Atticus watched them all with wary eyes.

Truly, the East seemed to have been seized by religious fanaticism. A blink, he pinched the brow of his nose and closed his eyes as a stab of pain flashed through his mind as his eyes eyed up the girl from the Cult. Opening his eyes after a few moments recollection, his attention moved to the man standing by the girls shoulder. The man seemed, oddly fixated on him. He did hope he hadn’t done anything to offend the man, he didn’t want to get off to a bad start here.

"His Excellency, Brother Martin, the Secretary-General of the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel, and party."

His attention snapped to the entrance. So, the prodigal son returned. He watched as the “Secretary-General” shared a nod with the representative of the barbarians known as “Caesar’s Legion”, before having the gall to nod at him. He gave a slight, but noticeable, inclination of the head in acknowledgement, if only for the sake of politeness. It wouldn’t do to discount relations with the Midwest in this, the twilight hour of the Western Brotherhood’s existence. 

Maxson’s bones, the man most have been turning in his tomb at the sight of what his Brotherhood had become. Run by a megalomaniac with delusions of god-hood in one chapter, near destroyed by fanatical religious tribal cultists in another chapter, and his own, fractured and splitting at the seams from the divisions within.

It was at this point, as he was about to fall into another one of his brooding fits, that the host, well, the speaker for the host, spoke up. Terms were laid out, no fighting and, oddly, no vulgarity. Did that mean no swearing? No drinking? No smoking? No matter, he certainly wouldn’t be resorting to any vulgarity, though the rest of the savages in the room might. As was their nature after all.

Once the announcement was over, another delegate entered. Turning to look with tired eyes, the High Elder paused in shock at the, unusual, attitudes the new entrants had concerning clothing and appearance. Clearing his throat, Atticus turned away as his sensibilities dictated, looking everywhere but, there. Turning his attention to the envoy for Mr. House, Atticus paused as silence reigned, before it was broken by the Legion Delegate.

"If you've all had your wine and whiskey-"

Atticus paused, before deciding to tuck into the food before him as the man spoke, listening as he did so to the Legion delegates words.

"-Then maybe we might discuss the fact that the Treaty of Goodsprings has reached its end. Mars alone knows exactly what that means, but I can take a fair guess. The treaty must either be renewed, or the Southwest will likely be awash with blood soon enough. And I can assure you, that whatever horrors the first war brought, the second will unleash even more."

Taking a sip of wine, the High Elder scanned the room. War, a second war greater than the last. The Western Brotherhood had sat on the sidelines for the last one. And now, with a whole continent present, this war would reach across the land. For some civilisations, this would be their end, but for the Western Brotherhood, this would be an opportunity. And so, allowing the rich flavour of the food and drink to douse his taste-buds.

Atticus Gladstone watched.

Atticus Gladstone listened.

Atticus Gladstone learned.