The Castle was alive again. For the first time in decades, its courtyards rang with the clang of hammers instead of gunfire, voices of settlers shouting orders over the whine of power tools. The Minutemen flag, raised proud over the ramparts, had become a beacon visible even from Boston's ruins.
Piper's latest issue of Publick Occurrences was already making the rounds — "Castle Reclaimed, Mirelurks Routed!" — and with it came a flood of volunteers. Farmers, drifters, even caravan guards eager to lend their rifles. Every arrival carried more hope… and more mouths to feed.
Nate stood over a map table, brow furrowed as AR Team hauled in their prize: a battered Gunner boat dragged up from the shore, its hull scarred but still seaworthy. SOPMOD shoved a boot against the deck plating with a grin.
SOPMOD:"Caught them snooping right under our noses. Figures the Gunners don't like the idea of the Minutemen owning the coast."
Nate's frown deepened."If one boat made it this far, others will come. The Castle's wide open from the sea — and I can't even dare venture to the Glowing Sea with our back door undefended."
Sarah, standing beside him with arms crossed, studied the captured vessel like it were nothing more than a puzzle piece.
Sarah (calmly):"That can change. The Castle's defenses weren't built on prayer alone. Its armory was designed to hold everything needed to secure the harbor. We just need to open it."
Nate:"And the problem being…?"
Sarah (dryly):"It's locked tight. Two centuries don't make doors any easier to kick in. It's manual lock from within."
The moment hung until a sharp laugh echoed from the courtyard. All heads turned as a wiry figure strode in, dragging dust and the confidence of someone who knew every stone of these walls.
Veteran Woman:"Well, I'll be damned. Look who stumbled back into the wasteland."
Sarah blinked, recognition sparking in her eyes.
Sarah:"Ronnie Shaw."
The older woman smirked, eyes flicking between Sarah and Nate."Still breathing after all these years, eh? Guess you're tougher than those mirelurks. And you—" she jabbed a finger toward Nate, "—you must be the new General I've been hearing about. Haven't seen a proper flag on these walls since I was half your age."
Ronnie planted her hands on her hips, gaze sweeping over the bustling courtyard, the repaired battlements, the captured Gunner boat. A slow, approving smile crept across her face.
Ronnie Shaw:"Well, maybe there's still some hope for this old fort yet."
The Castle – Beneath the Walls
Ronnie didn't waste time. After a quick round of greetings, she waved Nate toward the old stonework near the courtyard's edge.
Ronnie Shaw:"Back before the bombs, this place wasn't just a fort — it was a fortress. Full magazines, command posts, hidden passages… everything the Minutemen needed to keep Boston secure. Then the years buried it all."
She tapped her boot against a cracked section of masonry."But I know where the skeleton's hiding."
Nate glanced back at the courtyard. Sarah stood with Preston, overseeing a supply manifest, while AR Team supervised Minutemen stacking lumber and scavenged steel onto carts. Team 404 lounged near the Vertibird, trading jokes while loading fuel drums. They were already thinking ahead to Spectacle Island.
Nate (to Sarah):"You'll hold the fort?"
Sarah (without looking up):"We'll be ready when you get back, General. Go dig up history."
Ronnie smirked at the exchange and led Nate down into the shadows.
The Tunnels
The hidden door groaned as Ronnie shoved aside rubble, revealing a narrow stone passage. The air reeked of mold and long-dead seaweed. Their lanterns cut thin beams across collapsed walls and rusted rebar.
Ronnie Shaw:"Last time I was down here, the walls still held tight. Now? You can thank some years of neglect."
They pressed forward, the silence broken only by dripping water — until the chitter of claws echoed ahead.
Ghouls lurched out of the dark, feral eyes catching the lantern-light. Nate's service rifle snapped and flared, burning through skulls. Ronnie raised her old combat rifle, its bark sharp in the tunnels.
Ronnie Shaw (gritting her teeth):"Figures. Nothing stays buried in this city without a fight. and among them is General McGann who locked himself before sea beast start wreck havok, sigh time to move on."
Step by step, they cleared the tunnels. Rusted furniture, broken pipes, and moldering sandbags bore witness to the Castle's fall during the war.
At last, a bulkhead loomed before them — scarred steel, its old Minutemen insignia still visible beneath corrosion.
Ronnie Shaw (smiling faintly):"There it is. The old armory. Last bastion of the Minutemen."
Nate ran his hand over the locking mechanism. Still intact. Still sealed.
The Armory
The bulkhead's locks groaned and clattered, then with a thunderous crack the great steel door swung inward. Dust spilled out, thick and choking, carrying the smell of oil and iron.
Inside, the lantern light swept across racks of heavy weapons. Crates stamped with the faded Minutemen seal lined the walls. Mortar tubes rested upright, their steel still oiled beneath tarps. Rows of launchers gleamed, untouched by time.
But it wasn't just weapons. On a central table, under glass, sat a series of carefully bound documents and schematics.
Nate lifted the top binder, flipping past pages of parts lists and diagrams. His eyes widened.
Nate:"These… these are artillery designs. A full 155mm howitzer. Defensive emplacements. Logistics networks."
Ronnie leaned closer, her breath catching."That's no scavenger work. This is pre-war engineering, military-grade. Must be old General Becker must've been planning to rebuild the Commonwealth like a fortress."
Nate moved to the next set of blueprints. His jaw tightened.A sleek schematic bore the faded insignia of a long-defunct tech contractor — Sangvis Ferri Defense Systems. Stamped in the corner was a purchase order.
Ronnie (reading over his shoulder):"'3D combat fabricator, Series 5.' …Holy hell. Becker bought this?"
From behind, Nate heard the faintest intake of breath. Sarah had stepped into the threshold, AR Team at her side, silent until now. Her eyes flicked across the binder — recognition sharp in her gaze.
Sarah (quietly):"Becker knew where to shop. That's one of mine."
Ronnie turned, surprise clear."Yours?"
Sarah didn't elaborate, simply gestured to the schematics."That fabricator was designed to print precision components and spare parts — weapons, tools, even small drone chassis. The kind of machine that keeps an army supplied without a factory behind it."
Ronnie gave a low whistle."General Becker wasn't just stockpiling. He was laying the groundwork for an industrial backbone."
Nate closed the binder, holding it tight like a sacred text."Then we're not just rebuilding the Minutemen. We're picking up where General Becker left off."
Ronnie smiled, pride and defiance in her voice."With artillery and fabrication, you can hold Boston. With this, General, the Minutemen are a real army again."