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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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The reaction was instantaneous. It was as if someone had fired a pistol into the ceiling. Everyone at the table completely stopped eating. Forks clattered onto wooden plates. Conversations died in an instant. Karen nearly choked on a piece of bread, and Tilly stared at Mary-Beth with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Arthur Morgan slowly lowered his fork to his plate. The rugged, older brother figure of the camp turned his entire body to face Caleb, his expression hardening into a look of deep, terrifying concern from what he have just heard.
Arthur goes to asked him, his voice low and dangerous, wanting to know the reason why he bring Mary-Beth there.
"Have you lost your mind, Caleb?" Arthur growled. "Saint Denis is a cesspit. It's too dangerous for a girl like her. Especially since you are handling Angelo Bronte, isn't that right? You told us you were taking care of the Italian mafia and doing some schemes there. You want to drag her into the middle of a mob war?"
The tension at the table was thick enough to cut with a hunting knife. Mary-Beth looked slightly nervous, her grip tightening on Caleb's hand under the table, but she remained silent, trusting him entirely to handle the interrogation.
Caleb didn't flinch under Arthur's fierce glare. He nodded his head at that, acknowledging the absolute validity of Arthur's fears, before effortlessly spinning a masterful, highly logical lie that played directly into the gang's understanding of the criminal underworld.
"I understand your concern, Arthur, truly I do," Caleb said smoothly, engaging his max level Persuasion Skill to weave the deception into unbreakable reality. "But the situation has changed there. I have infiltrated deep into Angelo Bronte's inner circle. I am sitting at the table with his Underboss and capos. But the Italians are highly traditional, deeply paranoid men."
Caleb leaned forward, looking Arthur dead in the eye. "They do not trust lone wolves. They do not trust drifters. They value a family man. A man who has ties, who has a respectable household, is a man they believe they can control and do business with. It gives me an air of legitimacy that I desperately need to close this final deal and position myseld deep inside."
Caleb gestured to the beautiful woman sitting beside him. "So, I need Mary-Beth's help for that. She is incredibly well spoken, she knows how to act like high society, and she will make my cover absolutely impenetrable, since we are also together as well so our chemistry will be much greater."
He quickly held up a hand to stall the protests he could see forming on Arthur and Hosea's lips. "And please, do not worry. I am not taking her to a slum. I have secured a highly fortified, completely private estate in a very secure district. I will make absolutely sure Mary-Beth is safe there, guarded day and night, and also exceedingly well fed and comfortable."
Arthur still looked highly skeptical, his jaw tight, but before he could argue the logistics of mob infiltration, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the dining room.
Miss Grimshaw, who had been listening to the entire exchange from the kitchen doorway with a scowl on her face, stepped forward and joined in. The formidable camp matriarch pointed a wooden mixing spoon directly at Caleb's chest.
"You listen to me, Caleb Thorne," Miss Grimshaw barked, her voice ringing with maternal fury, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Because it is your absolute duty as her partner to keep that girl safe. You are taking her out of my camp, out of our protection. And I swear to the Almighty, if there is even a single hair missing from that girl's head when I see her next..."
Grimshaw stepped closer, jabbing the spoon in the air for emphasis. "...you will be answering directly to my double barrel shotgun. Do we have an understanding?"
The sheer, terrifying ferocity of the older woman immediately broke the heavy tension in the room. Everyone at the table burst into loud, uproarious laughter hearing that, the mental image of the formidable Miss Grimshaw hunting down the lethal gunslinger of the gang being too humorous to ignore.
Caleb, of course, played along perfectly. He waved his hands defensively in the air and acted a bit afraid, widening his eyes in mock terror.
"Yes, ma'am! Absolutely, Miss Grimshaw!" Caleb promised loudly, dramatically reaching up to wipe an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead. "I swear on my life, I will not even allow a single hair to leave Mary-Beth's body without my explicit permission! She will be safer than gold in a federal vault owned by the country!"
Mary-Beth smiled radiantly at that, her heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of warmth. She was deeply touched by the fierce, protective interaction of Miss Grimshaw, Arthur, and Caleb. Even though she was leaving, she knew that these people loved her like a daughter and a sister. It was a beautiful send off.
After that dramatic interlude, the lunch continued wonderfully. The mood lightened considerably, with the camp members asking Mary-Beth excited questions about what she was going to pack and telling her to write to them from the big city.
And then, when the massive feast was finally finished and the plates were scraped clean, everyone began to leave the table to do their own stuff and return to their afternoon chores.
The girls, Karen, Tilly, and Abigail, began gathering the plates to wash the dishes, humming a cheerful tune as they worked. Mary-Beth squeezed Caleb's hand one last time before going upstairs to finish finalizing their luggage.
Caleb stood up, intending to get a breath of fresh air, but he was immediately intercepted.
He was, of course, dragged away by the heavy hitters of the camp. Hosea, Arthur, John Marston, and Charles Smith surrounded him like a pack of wolves cornering a stag.
Joining them were the returning Sean MacGuire and Lenny Summers, who had just ridden into the homestead from their highly successful, legitimate jobs as security of Caleb's restaurant back at Valentine.
"Alright, city boy," Arthur grunted, clapping a heavy hand on Caleb's shoulder and steering him toward the back porch where the whiskey was kept. "Time to pay the piper. We want to hear the truth without the women of the gang worrying."
They moved out to the shaded veranda, settling into the wooden rocking chairs and leaning against the porch railings. Hosea uncorked a bottle of premium Kentucky bourbon, pouring generous measures into several tin cups and passing them around. John lit a cigarette, offering the pack to Caleb, who accepted one and lit it, taking a slow, measured drag.
They wanted to have Caleb talk extensively about what exactly happened at his 'work' in Saint Denis, and more importantly, they wanted to know about the violent rumbling in the city.
"The newspapers in Valentine have been printing wild stories, Caleb," Hosea said, taking a sip of his bourbon. "Stories about mansions being attacked, shootouts in the Garden District, and the Italian mafia eating itself alive from the inside. You are sitting right in the middle of that powder keg. Tell us what is actually happening."
Caleb leaned back against the wooden post, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily into the afternoon air. He looked at the circle of men. These were his brothers in arms, but they were also wild outlaws who lived by a very specific, chaotic code.
He, of course, would never tell them the absolute truth. He would never tell them about what actually happened, where he violently executed a coup and became the absolute Don of the Saint Denis mafia.
If he told Arthur and Hosea that he was now the supreme ruler of the largest criminal syndicate in the South, they would view him not as a brother, but as the exact type of corrupt, tyrannical monster that Dutch always preached against.
So, he engaged his max level Acting and Persuasion skills, deciding to make up many things along the way to satisfy their curiosity while protecting his throne.
"The papers aren't entirely wrong, Hosea," Caleb began, his voice low and serious. "The city is in absolute chaos right now. Angelo Bronte is losing his grip."
"Is that why you're taking Mary-Beth down there?" John asked, frowning through a cloud of smoke. "Seems like a bad time to play house."
"It's the perfect time," Caleb countered smoothly, taking a sip of the burning whiskey. "I told you inside, I am still infiltrating his inner circle. Bronte is paranoid, he is bleeding men, and he is desperately looking for capable guns he can trust. By moving into the city, establishing a permanent, respectable residence with Mary-Beth, I am cementing myself as a high tier associate. I'm making myself indispensable to his remaining lieutenants."
Lenny, ever the sharp, analytical mind, leaned forward. "But to what end, Caleb? Why risk your neck playing politics with these Italian gangsters when we have a good thing going with the restaurant here in the Heartlands?"
Sean nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "Aye, the lad's right! We're making legal coin hand over fist at the saloon, Caleb! Why dance with the devil in the swamp?"
Caleb looked around the circle, his eyes locking onto Arthur and Hosea, playing directly into their deepest, most desperate desires for the survival of the Van der Linde gang.
"Because it is any time now," Caleb lied beautifully, painting a picture of imminent salvation. "I am getting so close, Arthur. I am maneuvering myself into a position where I can make sure the entire gang is safe and sound for good."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "How? Bronte doesn't know much of us, but he definitely hate us since we took out the Braithwaites."
"Bronte won't be a factor much longer," Caleb hinted darkly, implying the man's downfall without admitting he was the one holding the axe. "The man is going to fall, and when he does, his empire will fracture. But before it does, I am going to bleed his accounts dry."
Caleb leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, hooking them completely with a visionary promise.
"I have access to his ledgers," Caleb fabricated. "I know where the extortion money, the gambling profits, and the shipping tariffs are funneled. I am quietly siphoning those funds. And I am going to use Bronte's own massive, dirty money to help clear up the gang's bounty entirely."
Hosea's eyes widened in sheer shock. "Clear the bounties? Caleb... the bounties on myself and Arthur alone are astronomical. You would need thousands."
"I have secured thousands, Hosea," Caleb stated with unshakeable confidence, technically telling the truth about his wealth, just lying about the methodology. "I am cultivating a network of corrupt judges and high ranking administrators on my payroll. Within a few months, I will use Bronte's stolen capital to systematically pay off the federal government. I will wipe the slate clean for every single man and woman in this camp."
The absolute magnitude of that promise stunned the men on the porch into complete silence.
Arthur stared at Caleb, the heavy burden of survival that he had carried for twenty years suddenly seeming a little lighter. "You... you can really do that? You can buy the law off?"
"It's the Gilded Age, Arthur," Caleb smiled, a cold, pragmatic smirk. "Everything has a price. Even the Pinkertons. I am going to buy our freedom."
Caleb took one last drag of his cigarette and flicked it out into the yard. "And so, once the ink is dry on those pardons, you would never be hunted down like animals ever again. You can run the restaurants, buy ranches, and live like free men. That is why I am in Saint Denis. That is why I need Mary-Beth to help me sell the illusion. I am buying our future."
The men on the porch looked at him with profound, overwhelming respect. They didn't see a mafia Don; they saw a selfless savior, a man risking his life in the belly of the beast to buy them a second chance at life.
Hosea raised his tin cup high, tears of genuine gratitude pricking his tired eyes. "To Caleb Thorne. The man who is going to steal our freedom back from the devil himself."
"To Caleb!" Arthur, John, Charles, Sean, and Lenny echoed loudly, clinking their cups together in a joyous, hopeful toast. Caleb drank his whiskey, smiling at his brothers. The lie was swallowed completely, the cover story was impenetrable, and his dual life was secure. Tomorrow, he would take his Queen back to his newly conquered kingdom, and the empire of Don Caleb would begin it's official move.
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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: -