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"Scusi, Signor McLaughlin," he said, his English improving as he switched to a more respectful tone. "We were told to expect you. But we are also instructed to challenge anyone who approaches. As in this place, we must be sure. You understand."
"As you should be of course, vigilance is to be top priority," Caleb replied, dismounting smoothly. "It's exactly what Mr. Bronte wants to see."
He led Morgan to a hitching post near the side of the chapel and secured the reins, patting the mare's neck absently. "It tells me you're doing your jobs. He'll be pleased to hear it. If you hadn't, I'd have reported it."
The flattery, delivered with the weight of his Leadership skill, had its intended effect. The guard captain's shoulders relaxed and he let out a sharp, bark of laughter which suprised Caleb for a moment.
"Ha. Bene. Good." He extended a hand. "I am Luca. I oversee security here. This is Antonio and Paolo."
Caleb shook his hand once, firm but brief. "Good to meet you, Luca. The two of you to, Antonio and Paolo."
"Then come," Luca said, motioning toward the heavy chapel doors. "we will show you everything."
Luca led the way through the arched wooden door, which was thicker than it looked, reinforced with iron bands. The transition from the decaying exterior to the interior was jarring.
The outside promised ruin. The inside delivered order.
The main chapel hall had been stripped of pews and religious iconography. The stone floor was swept clean. The high, vaulted ceiling, though webbed with cracks, was intact, letting in dusty shafts of light from high, narrow windows. The air was cool and dry, smelling of stone, oiled metal, and old paper.
It was a fortress vault disguised as a ruin.
Caleb's enhanced Perception took in everything at a glance. His new Business skill began categorizing and assessing.
He saw along the far wall, behind a formidable cage of iron bars secured by two heavy padlocks, were stacks of wooden crates and iron banded chests. Dozens of them. Some were small and squat (likely dollars bills, some bonds, and jewelries), others long and narrow (rifles, maybe artwork). The sheer volume was impressive.
Meanwhile to the right, a large, sturdy oak desk and a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with ledgers, binders, and rolled maps. This was the administrative heart. The true measure of Bronte's empire wasn't just in gold, but in names, numbers, and properties recorded here.
Then nearly hidden in the shadowed corner near the desk, almost seamless with the flagstones, he saw a heavy iron ring. A cellar. Of course. The most sensitive items, the original partnership agreements, blackmail ledgers on the highest level officials, perhaps rare jewels or unique artifacts, perhaps some golds bars and nuggets, would be down there, away from even casual internal view.
He also saw additional four more guards were stationed inside at strategic points One by the barred storage, one by the ledger bookcase, one watching the main door from a shadowed alcove, and one sitting at the desk, presumably the bookkeeper.
All were armed with a mix of repeater, rifles, and sawed off shotguns. The windows were too high and narrow to be of use for entry. The only ways in were the front door and, potentially, the cellar from outside, if one knew where to look and could swim through gator, infested water.
"This is it," Luca said, spreading his arms. "The boss's vault treasury."
"Impressive," Caleb said, his voice neutral. He walked slowly towards the iron bars, peering in. "Regular inventory checks?"
"Every month," Luca said, puffing his chest slightly. "I do it myself with Marco," he pointed to the bookkeeper at the desk, a thin man with ink stained fingers who looked up and nodded nervously. "We count everything. The numbers go in the book, a copy is sent to Mr. Bronte."
"And the last count was?"
"Three days ago. All correct."
Caleb nodded. "Show me the ledger for the last count. And the one from six months ago."
This was a basic audit technique, comparing entries over time to spot discrepancies, pilfering, or creative accounting. Marco, the bookkeeper, looked to Luca, who nodded. The ledger was produced.
Caleb spent twenty minutes poring over the pages, his Business skill allowing him to absorb the columns of figures and descriptions with startling speed. He cross referenced dates, compared shipment manifests against storage totals. It was meticulous. Bronte's men were honest, or too afraid to be otherwise.
"The system is tight," Caleb conceded, closing the ledger. "Good work, Marco." The bookkeeper beamed with relief.
Caleb then moved on to the security assessment. He had Luca walk him around the perimeter of the building, both inside and out.
He noted the sight lines, the guard rotation patterns Luca described (every four hours), the alarm system, a simple but effective arrangement of trip wires with tin cans around the less visible approaches, and a bell by the front door.
"What about the cellar?" Caleb asked casually, pointing to the trapdoor as they re entered into the chapel.
Luca's expression became guarded. "That is… only for the boss. Or with his specific key and written permission. We do not go down there. We guard the door."
"Who has the key?"
"Mr. Bronte has one. Mr. Martelli has one as well."
Guido. Of course. That sealed the man's fate in Caleb's mind. He needed that key.
"Understood. A sensible precaution." Caleb made a show of writing notes in a small notebook he'd brought. "Now, the men. How is morale? Any complaints? Issues with supplies? Boredom is a security risk."
Luca looked surprised by the question, then thoughtful. "It is… quiet. Sometimes too quiet. The men are loyal, but they miss the city. The families. The pay is good, though. No complaints about that."
Caleb listened, his Leadership skill reading between the lines. The men were disciplined but isolated. Their loyalty was to Bronte, but it was a loyalty maintained by fear and money, not passion. It was a potential stress point.
For the next two hours, Caleb played his role flawlessly. He was thorough, asking probing but fair questions. He was respectful of the men's work, offering praise where due. He was, in short, the perfect auditor, competent, intimidating enough to ensure honesty, but not so hostile as to create resentment.
He memorized every detail, the exact location of the padlock keys (on a ring on Luca's belt), the loose stone near the east wall where a man could potentially squeeze in if the bars were cut, and the predictable pattern of the guard who paced by the bookcase every seven minutes.
As he prepared to leave, he turned to Luca. "You run a tight operation, Luca. I'll report to Mr. Bronte that his faith is well placed. The only recommendation I'll make is perhaps a rotating weekend in the city for the men, to break the monotony. A rested guard is a sharp guard."
Luca's face lit up. "He would do that?"
"If I recommend it, he'll consider it. I'll stress its importance for long term stability of the vault safety."
The gratitude in Luca's eyes was genuine. In that moment, Caleb wasn't just Bronte's auditor, he was their potential advocate. He had built a sliver of goodwill.
He mounted Morgan and rode back towards Saint Denis, the image of the chapel seared into his mind. He now had a complete tactical picture.
He knew its strengths, discipline, remoteness, simple but effective alarms. He knew its weaknesses, isolation, predictable routines, a loyalty based on transaction, and that cellar key divided between Bronte and Guido.
The plan solidified. He wouldn't assault the chapel. It was too defensible. He would subvert it. When the time came, he would need to neutralize Guido and acquire his key.
He would need to create a crisis that pulled Bronte's attention, and perhaps some of these guards, away. And he would need a small, trusted team to help him move the fortune once the vault was open.
George, Seth, and Elias? Possibly. Their loyalty was to him, and they had proven discreet.
But that was for later. For now, he had to report to Bronte. He would give a glowing report, sprinkled with the minor suggestion about morale. He would cement his position as the clear eyed, trustworthy lieutenant.
And he would wait, letting the pressure between Bronte and Cornwall build, while he continued to build his own legitimate empire in Strawberry and Valentine.
As the lights of Saint Denis gleamed ahead through the evening mist, Caleb felt a profound sense of alignment.
Caleb entered Saint Denis through the northwest approach as the city slipped into its evening rhythm. Gas lamps were beginning to glow one by one, their light reflecting off damp cobblestones.
Carriages rattled past, laughter and music drifting from saloons and balconies. To most, it was just another night in the jewel of Lemoyne.
To Caleb, it was a board mid game, every piece already in motion.
He guided Morgan without hesitation toward the western quarter, where the buildings grew taller, the streets cleaner, and the guards more numerous.
Angelo Bronte's mansion rose behind its wrought iron fencing like a declaration of power, ornate stonework, manicured hedges, and lanterns burning bright enough to shame the surrounding block.
Caleb dismounted near the fence, hitching Morgan at the post reserved for trusted guests. One of the guards recognized him instantly.
"Signor McLaughlin," the man said, offering a respectful nod. The others followed suit.
A brief, formal check followed, habit rather than suspicion, and the gate swung open. No questions. No delays. Bronte's word had already traveled through his organization like a commandment.
Caleb passed through without realizing the full implication of that yet.
Inside, the mansion breathed wealth. Marble floors gleamed under chandelier light. The air smelled faintly of polished wood, wine, and expensive tobacco. Bronte's butler, an immaculately dressed man as always with silver at his temples, bowed slightly as Caleb entered.
"Signor McLaughlin. Welcome. The master is in the music room. He asked to be informed of your arrival immediately." There was a new respect in the man's eyes, the kind reserved for someone who had moved from 'useful outsider' to 'inner circle.'
"Thank you," Caleb said, following him through the opulent halls. The butler led him to a pair of ornate double doors, which he opened with a soft click.
The music room was a temple to imported luxury. Velvet drapes, gilded molding, and shelves of leather bound books lined the walls. In the center of the room, Angelo Bronte sat in a high backed armchair, eyes closed, one hand gently keeping time on the armrest.
The clear, tinny sound of an operatic aria spilled from the horn of a magnificent gramophone, a piece of technology far sleeker and more expensive than Dutch's prized machine.
The butler cleared his throat delicately. "Mi scusi,, Padrone. Signor McLaughlin is here to report."
Bronte lifted the glass to his lips, took a slow sip, then his eyes opened slowly, as if surfacing from a pleasant dream. He saw Caleb and his face broke into a wide, genuine smile. He reached over and lifted the needle from the record, silencing the aria mid cadence.
"Ah! McLaughlin! Perfetto timing. The music was beautiful, but business is its own symphony, no?" He gestured to the butler. "Another bottle of the Barolo. And bring some of the cheeses, the prosciutto. We have planning to do."
"Yes, Padrone." The butler bowed and withdrew. Bronte waved Caleb to the plush chair opposite his own. "Sit, sit. You have the look of a man who has seen my soul and lived to tell the tale." He chuckled, swirling the deep red wine in his crystal glass.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 2)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 2)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 4)
- Bow (Lvl 3)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 4)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 3)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl 3)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,471 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 192,892 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 65 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, & 1 Broken Pirate Sword
Bank: -