If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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He arrived at the second basement on the left, a large, windowless room with thick foundation walls. The guards were currently placing the items there, grunting under the immense weight of the iron banded chests and the lockboxes filled with bearer bonds. They stacked them neatly in the center of the room, far away from any damp walls, treating the cargo with terrified reverence.
When the last crate was set down, the lead guard wiped his brow and turned to Caleb, saluting sharply. "All secure, Don McLaughlin. Exactly as ordered."
Caleb looked at the staggering pile of wealth, his Business Skill instantly calculating the vast corporate empires he was about to purchase. He smiled, a cold, satisfied expression.
He thanked them for their hard work, his tone respectful but firm, before telling them to go. "Good work, men. Return to your perimeter posts."
The guards bowed and quickly exited the basement, eager to put distance between themselves and the Don's terrifying hoard.
And exactly at this time, Antonio, the ever efficient head butler, silently appeared at the base of the stairs and joined Caleb. Antonio held a heavy ring of iron keys in his white gloved hand.
He stepped forward and gave the specific key to the basement to Caleb. "The only key to this reinforced door, my Don. The master copy has been destroyed as per your standing security protocols."
Caleb smiled warmly, genuinely appreciating the butler's flawless foresight. He took the heavy iron key, feeling the cold metal in his palm, and thanked him. "You are indispensable, Antonio."
Before then, Caleb left the basement with Antonio. He pulled the heavy oak door shut, the iron hinges groaning, and slid the key into the lock. He turned it with a sharp, echoing clack, securing the first massive injection of capital into his empire.
They walked back up the stone steps into the bright, airy corridors of the main floor.
Caleb walked out the front doors to wait at the grand marble porch. The logistics of the day required patience, a virtue he possessed in abundance.
When he stepped out onto the shaded veranda, he found that Antonio had already anticipated his needs with terrifying perfection. The butler had already had the maids and servants prepare a comfortable, plush leather armchair positioned perfectly to oversee the courtyard.
Next to the chair was a small, ornate mahogany side table filled with a selection of cured meats, imported cheeses, and artisanal snacks. Resting in a silver ice bucket was a chilled bottle of vintage French champagne, alongside a crystal pitcher of iced lemon water.
It was a setup designed for an emperor to relax while waiting for his fleets to return.
Caleb sat down in the leather chair with a contented sigh. He poured himself a glass of the iced water, the condensation dripping down the crystal, and leaned back.
And so the long, grueling afternoon began. The black lacquered carriage came back and forth, acting as a relentless, heavily armored beast of burden, to send all of the lockboxes, heavy chests, and wooden crates from the rotting chapel in the swamp directly into Caleb's fortress.
Each time the carriage rolled into the courtyard, groaning under the weight of newly acquired riches, Caleb would stand up from his comfortable chair. He goes to open the basement door personally with his single key, refusing to let anyone else possess the access, and wait there in the cool subterranean air while the men unloaded the cargo.
By the third trip, Caleb realized the five guards were moving too slowly under the crushing weight. He signaled Antonio, and the butler immediately summoned reinforcements. So, they worked with not just five guards, but eight guards now.
The increased manpower allowed them to form a highly efficient chain, and they worked much faster, hauling the heavy iron boxes down the stone steps with synchronized grunts of exertion.
This exhausting, highly lucrative cycle happened for maybe around five full trips. The sun, which had been high and blinding when they started, slowly tracked across the sky, casting long, golden shadows across the manicured lawns.
The heat of the day peaked and finally began to break as the sun now reached the late afternoon, painting the western horizon in deep shades of violet and bruised orange.
And on the last, final trip, the carriage rolled through the iron gates looking like it had been through a war. The pristine white horses were completely coated in drying brown mud, their heads hanging low with exhaustion. The carriage itself was covered in swamp muck, the black lacquer barely visible.
But it wasn't just the cargo making the carriage heavy this time. The carriage was filled to the brim with men.
Lucan and his elite swamp guards had finally abandoned their post. They rode sitting on the roof, clinging to the luggage racks, and hanging off the running boards alongside their personal gear and the last remaining items from the vault.
Vincenzo and Silvio had actually already stayed behind at the mansion on the fourth trip, physically exhausted from the constant loading and unloading, so only the weary driver had gone out there alone for the final, massive pickup.
When the carriage ground to a halt, the suspension screaming in protest, Lucan and his men immediately dropped down onto the clean gravel of the courtyard. They looked terrible, covered in three years of swamp grime, their dusters torn, their boots caked in thick, foul smelling mud.
But when Lucan and his men saw Caleb rising from his leather chair on the pristine marble porch, their fatigue seemed to vanish. They snapped to attention, their exhaustion overridden by a profound, fanatical respect.
They greeted their Don, of course, their voices rough but ringing with absolute loyalty. "Don McLaughlin! The vault is empty! The swamp is clear!"
Caleb walked down the marble steps, completely ignoring the mud they were tracking onto his pristine driveway. He smiled, a genuine, expansive expression, welcoming them to the mansion.
"Welcome home, brothers," Caleb said, his voice carrying the warm, benevolent authority of a king receiving his victorious generals. "You have done an outstanding job today. Your exile is officially over."
Caleb looked at the filthy, exhausted men, his maxed out Leadership Skill ensuring his next words cemented their loyalty for the rest of their lives.
He says to them, gesturing grandly toward the sprawling, wealthy city of Saint Denis beyond the estate walls, that they could enjoy the city first.
"You've been in the dark for quite some time," Caleb told them. "I am not putting you to work tonight. Go out into the city. Go to the Bastille Saloon, tell Ezra the Don sent you, and your drinks are covered. Eat a steak that isn't out of a tin can. Find some company."
He looked at their mud caked clothes. "And clean yourselves up as well. Go to the tailors on the main avenue. Buy yourselves new suits, new boots, and new hats. Put it all on the family's tab."
Lucan stared at Caleb, his jaw slightly slack. The sheer, unprecedented generosity was overwhelming. Bronte had never offered them a single red cent beyond their meager wages, let alone an open tab for tailored suits and high end saloons.
"Take the night," Caleb finalized, turning back toward the mansion. "Live like the kings you helped make me. Because tomorrow morning, before you begin your duty as my personal, elite guards here in this mansion, the real work of building our new empire begins."
Hearing that, Lucan and his men stood absolutely frozen for a second, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. When they realized the Don was entirely serious, that they were being handed the keys to the city after the years of rotting in the mud, they broke.
They thanked Caleb profusely, their voices tripping over each other in a chorus of profound, overwhelming gratitude. Men who hadn't smiled in years were grinning from ear to ear, gripping each other's shoulders.
They bowed respectfully one last time before they then took their leave, practically running down the gravel driveway toward the open gates, eager to wash off the swamp and taste the high life of Saint Denis.
With the newly minted palace guards dismissed to their revelry, Caleb turned his attention back to Vincenzo and Silvio. The two capos were standing near the base of the marble steps, looking like they had been dragged behind a runaway train. Their clothes were ruined, their faces were pale beneath the dirt, and even the giant Silvio was subtly leaning his weight against the stone balustrade to stay upright.
"You both did impossible work today," Caleb told them, his voice dropping its commanding edge, replacing it with the warm, quiet tone of a brother in arms. He gestured toward the sprawling mansion behind him. "You've earned your keep ten times over. Go and take a rest. Sleep until you can't sleep anymore. The perimeter is secure, and the vault is locked. We hold the city."
Both men hearing that let out a sigh, the tension finally leaving their exhausted frames. They thanked Caleb, their voices thick with fatigue but laced with absolute, unshakeable devotion.
They offered him a tired but deeply respectful salute, and they also took their leave, trudging heavily up the marble steps toward the luxurious guest wings of the estate where soft beds and hot baths awaited them.
The courtyard finally fell quiet, the chaos of the massive logistical operation settling into the peaceful tranquility of the late afternoon. Caleb stood alone for a moment, listening to the gentle rustle of the oak trees in the wind. The empire was secured. The treasury was full.
Caleb then turned on his heel and went to enter his mansion. As he approached the heavy double doors, they were swung open from the inside by his ever vigilant butler.
"Welcome back inside, Don McLaughlin," Antonio greeted him, stepping aside to let Caleb pass into the cool, shadowed air of the grand foyer.
Caleb handed his hat and silver tipped cane to a waiting maid. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the sticky, uncomfortable grit of the day's labor clinging to his skin beneath his tailored suit. He looked at the butler and, of course, asked for dinner to be served for him in the formal dining room.
"I have a massive appetite tonight, Antonio," Caleb noted, loosening his silk tie. "Have the kitchen prepare a heavy meal. And I want to eat within the hour."
Antonio nodded his head swiftly, his mental checklist already ticking off the necessary preparations. "I will inform the chef right away, my Don. We have a beautiful crown roast of pork that has been slow cooking, and I shall have them prepare the finest truffled potatoes to accompany it."
"Perfect," Caleb said, turning toward the grand staircase.
And after that was done, before Caleb could even reach the first landing to go change his clothes, the quiet peace of the foyer was suddenly interrupted. The heavy front doors opened again, and one of his perimeter guards stepped inside, looking slightly breathless.
The guard took off his hat and, of course, apologized first for the sudden intrusion. "Forgive the interruption, Don McLaughlin. I know you requested peace for the evening."
Caleb stopped on the stairs, turning around and resting his hand on the polished mahogany banister. He nodded his head, his expression calm and approachable. "It's fine. What is it? Is there anything I need to know?"
The guard nodded his head, stepping a few paces closer so as not to shout across the opulent hall. "There's a messenger waiting at the outer gate, sir. He came up from the storage depot in the commercial docks. He says he brings word regarding the heavy machinery you purchased this morning."
Caleb's max level Business Skill immediately snapped to the forefront of his mind. The Pelton Wheel.
"He says that the equipment has been fully inspected by our men down at the warehouse," the guard reported faithfully. "It is all there, every bolt and copper wire. The inspector says it's in great condition, completely pristine. The depot foreman wants to know the final routing. It is ready to be sent toward wherever the Don wants it to go."
Caleb, hearing that, felt a profound surge of satisfaction. The final piece of his futuristic luxury hotel in West Elizabeth was secured and ready to move. The speed of the transaction was a testament to the terrifying efficiency of his new reputation.
He leaned over the banister and said to the guard, "Inform the messenger to send the message back to the storage foreman immediately. I want it to be sent to Strawberry. They are to load it onto the Cornwall and Pacific freight train tonight, taking it all the way to Wallace Station, the nearest railhead to the town."
Caleb's mind plotted the logistics of the treacherous western roads. "Once it arrives at Wallace Station, it is not to sit on the platform. The cargo is to be loaded onto heavy duty freight wagons and sent with full guards directly to the construction site at Hawk's Eye Creek in Strawberry."
The guard memorized the instructions, nodding along.
"And tell them," Caleb added, ensuring the chain of command was absolute, "they are to search for someone named Leopold Strauss when they arrive. He is my financial liaison and chief accountant out there. Strauss is expecting the shipment, as he will be the one handling the logistics for the Pelton Wheel to be constructed and installed on the river."
Hearing the precise, detailed instructions, the guard nodded his head sharply. "Understood, Don McLaughlin. Wallace Station, full guard to Strawberry, deliver to Mr. Leopold Strauss. I will convey the orders immediately." Right after then, the guard turned on his heel and left the mansion, jogging back out into the twilight to inform the messenger of the Don's exact will.
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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 MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 286,492 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 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, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 1 Senator Pendleton Sealed Envelope, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -