If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, 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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Hearing that blatant refusal, the girls collectively groaned in loud, highly exaggerated frustration, tossing their hands up in the air. "You are a cruel, cruel man, Caleb Thorne!" Karen complained, crossing her arms and sinking back into her leather chair while Mary-Beth hid her lingering, joyous smile behind her teacup, profoundly grateful for the smooth cover story.
After that lively, sugar filled afternoon, the evening passed in a blur of unprecedented comfort and absolute security. The Van der Linde gang slept soundly under a solid roof, entirely protected by the heavily armed mafia perimeter.
Time passed rapidly, transitioning smoothly into the next day.
Early in the morning, before the stifling, humid heat of the Lemoyne sun had fully settled over the city, the estate was already buzzing with quiet, efficient activity.
The fog was just beginning to lift off the distant bayous, casting a soft, hazy light over the immaculate grounds of the Garden District.
Caleb and John met up at the front garden exactly as they had planned.
John was pacing nervously back and forth across the white gravel. He had traded his dusty, blood stained frontier clothes for a clean, sharply tailored dark vest and a crisp white shirt provided by the estate's staff.
Despite the massive upgrade in his wardrobe, he looked like a man walking to the gallows. He kept wiping his sweating palms on his denim trousers, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Breathe, John," Caleb called out as he descended the marble stairs, impeccably dressed in a dark navy suit. "We are buying a piece of jewelry, not robbing a federal bank. Try to look a bit less like you are planning a murder."
John let out a tense, humorless chuckle. "I'd rather rob a bank, Caleb. I know how to do that. I don't know the first damn thing about diamonds."
"That is exactly why I am coming with you," Caleb reassured him, clapping the man firmly on the shoulder.
They walked over to where a sleek, unmarked black carriage was waiting for them at the curb. Silvio, the giant enforcer, was standing by the door, ensuring the perimeter was secure. Caleb and John got into the carriage together, settling into the plush leather seats. Silvio closed the door, and the driver immediately snapped the reins.
The carriage pulled away from the mansion, leaving for the bustling city center to visit the absolute best, most exclusive jeweler in all of Saint Denis.
As the carriage rolled smoothly over the cobblestone avenues, passing by the towering stone banks and the sprawling, manicured city parks, the reality of the impending purchase began to weigh heavily on John's mind.
He had spent his entire adult life surviving on pennies, stealing pocket watches just to buy a hot meal and a box of revolver cartridges. The concept of luxury goods was entirely foreign to him.
On the ride there, John shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his brow furrowed in deep, anxious thought.
"So, Caleb," John started, his voice a low, hesitant grumble. "Give it to me straight. How much is this little trip going to bleed you? What's the damage on a fancy ring for Abigail?"
Caleb, completely unbothered by the financial aspect of the trip, responded by giving him an honest, accurate assessment of the Gilded Age luxury market.
"For the quality we are looking for?" Caleb mused, looking out the glass window at the passing crowds. "A flawless, high clarity stone set in a premium band? You are looking at a price range between one hundred and three hundred and fifty dollars. Perhaps slightly more if we find a truly exceptional, custom cut piece."
Hearing that astronomical number, John's eyes bugged out of his head. He let out a long, low, completely staggered whistle.
"Three hundred and fifty dollars?!" John repeated, his voice cracking slightly. He shook his head, looking at Caleb as if the man had just lost his mind. He leaned forward and says that it was incredibly, absurdly expensive. "Caleb, that is a goddamn fortune! I used to shoot men for ten dollars! You could buy a whole herd of prime cattle for that kind of money! Hell, you could buy a small decent land out in New Austin for four hundred dollars!"
Caleb just chuckled, entirely amused by the outlaw's sticker shock. He responded by calmly explaining the mechanics of the luxury economy.
"Of course it is expensive, John," Caleb said reasonably, leaning back against the leather cushions. "You aren't buying a horseshoe. It is because of the incredibly rare, highly sought after materials being used in the craftsmanship. We aren't looking at cheap silver or polished glass. You are paying for the purity of the precious metals, solid gold or forged platinum, and most importantly, you are paying a premium specifically for the jewel used in the ring."
Caleb locked eyes with John, ensuring the man understood the symbolic weight of the purchase. "A flawless diamond has to be pulled from the earth, shipped across oceans, and meticulously cut by master craftsmen so that it catches the light perfectly. It is expensive because it is permanent. It doesn't rust, it doesn't fade, and it doesn't break. It is supposed to last forever. Just like the promise you are about to make to her."
John fell silent, swallowing hard. The profound truth in Caleb's words completely dismantled his financial anxiety. He looked down at his rough, scarred hands, picturing a brilliant, shining diamond resting on Abigail's finger. It was exactly what she deserved after years of enduring his foolishness and his absence.
"You're right," John murmured quietly, a newfound, unshakeable resolve settling into his chest. "She deserves the best. Whatever it costs."
"Exactly," Caleb smiled.
They didn't have to wait much longer. They soon arrived at the absolute pinnacle of high society commerce.
The carriage pulled to a smooth, gentle stop in the wealthy commercial district. Caleb and John got off the carriage and stood on the pristine, swept pavement.
Before them stood the most prestigious jewelry store in the state. L'Étoile d'Or, The Golden Star. The storefront was an imposing masterpiece of Victorian architecture, featuring towering, floor to ceiling plate glass windows framed in polished dark mahogany and solid brass accents.
Inside the display windows, resting on beds of black velvet, were necklaces and tiaras that sparkled so brightly they almost hurt the eyes. Two heavily armed, uniformed security guards stood flanking the heavy oak entrance doors, ensuring that only the absolute elite of Saint Denis society ever crossed the threshold.
Caleb adjusted his suit jacket, projecting an aura of immense, untouchable corporate power, and motioned for John to follow him. They walked past the stiffly saluting security guards and entered into the store.
The interior of L'Étoile d'Or was breathtakingly silent, heavily air conditioned, and smelled faintly of expensive lavender polish and old money. The walls were lined with highly secure glass display cases illuminated by brilliant gas lamps, casting a warm, glittering glow over the thousands of precious stones resting inside.
At the far end of the showroom, standing behind a massive, polished mahogany counter, was the owner of the establishment, Monsieur Henri Rousseau. He was a small, meticulously groomed man with a waxed mustache, a tailored silk waistcoat, and a jeweler's loupe permanently resting around his neck.
Rousseau was in the middle of quietly organizing a velvet tray of ruby cufflinks when the small silver bell above the door chimed softly.
He looked up, a standard, polite greeting forming on his lips. But the moment his eyes landed on the tall, dark-haired man leading the way into his shop, the polite greeting died instantly in his throat.
The owner of the jewelry store, of course, recognized Caleb immediately.
Monsieur Rousseau was a man who catered exclusively to the absolute highest echelons of Lemoyne society. He made it his personal business to know exactly who held the power in the city.
More importantly, he had been one of the incredibly wealthy, highly influential merchants invited to the massive, opulent celebration party at the Mayor's estate beforehand, the exact party where Caleb had officially, terrifyingly been unveiled as the new, undisputed Don of the Saint Denis underworld.
Rousseau remembered watching this man calmly sip champagne while the most terrifying mob enforcers in the state bowed to him. The jeweler knew that the man currently walking across his pristine carpets could buy his entire store with pocket change, or burn it to the ground with a single whisper.
A wave of sheer, unadulterated panic, instantly masked by frantic, fawning hospitality, washed over the jeweler. He practically dropped the ruby cufflinks, scurrying around the mahogany counter with alarming speed.
"Don McLaughlin!" Monsieur Rousseau gasped, his voice trembling slightly as he bowed so deeply his nose nearly touched his knees. "What an absolute, profound honor to welcome you to L'Étoile d'Or! I had no idea you were coming! Please, please, come in! Lock the doors, Pierre!" he shouted frantically to a bewildered clerk in the back room. "We are closed to the general public!"
Caleb smiled, a smooth, highly charming expression that did absolutely nothing to lower the jeweler's soaring heart rate.
"That won't be necessary, Monsieur Rousseau," Caleb said calmly, stepping up to the glass cases. "We are only here to make a very specific, highly important purchase this morning."
"Anything! Absolutely anything you desire, my Don!" Rousseau stammered, wiping his sweating forehead with a silk handkerchief. He gestured wildly toward the glittering cases. "Diamonds, emeralds, imported pearls from the Orient? Shall I bring out the private vault trays?"
Caleb raised a hand, completely halting the man's frantic energy. He stepped back and smoothly pulled John Marston forward, bringing the nervous outlaw directly into the spotlight.
"The purchase is not for me," Caleb clarified, placing a supportive hand on John's shoulder. "My brother here is in the market for an engagement ring. And he requires the absolute finest piece of craftsmanship currently residing in your vaults."
Rousseau blinked, immediately shifting his obsequious, terrified attention onto John. If this rugged, scarred man in the denim trousers was the 'brother' of the Don, then he was royalty by association.
"Of course! An engagement ring! Congratulations, monsieur!" Rousseau beamed, clapping his hands together eagerly. He quickly moved behind the main display counter, unlocking a heavy, velvet lined drawer. "We have the most spectacular collection in the country. Tell me, what is the lucky lady's preference? A massive, brilliant cut solitaire? A sapphire halo? Something ornate and Victorian?"
John stood frozen, staring down at the dizzying array of sparkling diamonds the jeweler was pulling out. He felt entirely out of his depth. He looked at Caleb for help.
Caleb just gave him an encouraging nod. "Tell him about Abigail, John. Tell him what she needs."
John took a deep breath, resting his hands on the glass counter. He thought about the woman he loved. He thought about her strength, her fierce, unyielding spirit, and the way she had held their family together through the mud, the snow, and the gunfire.
"She ain't... she ain't a high society woman," John started, his voice rough but filled with absolute conviction. "She doesn't want something massive and gaudy that's going to catch on a horse's reins or get tangled up when she's working. She's practical. She's incredibly tough. But..."
John looked down at the glittering stones. "She is also the most beautiful thing in my world. I want something that reflects that. I want a ring that is simple, elegant, and strong enough to last a lifetime. No fragile little filigree or excessive, useless decorations."
Monsieur Rousseau listened intently, his professional jeweler's mind instantly translating John's deeply emotional description into physical metallurgy and gemology. He completely understood the assignment. He was helping John get the best one according to exactly what he knew about Abigail's unique taste, of course.
"I understand completely, monsieur," Rousseau said softly, his frantic fawning replaced by genuine, professional respect for the outlaw's heartfelt request. "You do not want a fragile showpiece. You want a timeless, unshakeable classic."
Rousseau pushed the tray of ornate, highly decorated Victorian rings aside. He reached beneath the counter, unlocking a small, highly secure steel lockbox. He pulled out a single, dark velvet ring box and placed it gently on the glass before John.
With a soft click, Rousseau opened the lid.
John's breath caught in his throat.
Resting on the black velvet was an absolute masterpiece of elegant simplicity. It was a flawless, two carat, brilliant cut diamond. The stone was completely free of inclusions, catching the ambient gaslight of the store and fracturing it into a blinding, mesmerizing array of internal fire.
But it wasn't the diamond alone that made it perfect, it was the setting. The stone was mounted not on soft, easily scratched yellow gold, but on a thick, beautifully polished band of pure, indestructible platinum.
"This," Rousseau whispered reverently, "is our finest piece. A flawless, conflict free diamond sourced from the deepest mines, set in solid platinum. Platinum is the strongest, most durable precious metal on earth. It will never tarnish, it will never bend, and it will hold that stone securely for a thousand years. It is practical, it is incredibly strong, and it is devastatingly beautiful."
John stared at the ring. He could perfectly picture it resting on Abigail's finger. It was exactly her. Tough as nails, but radiating a brilliant, undeniable light.
"That's it," John murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He didn't even need to look at another option. "That is the one."
"An excellent choice, monsieur," Rousseau smiled proudly. "The price is three hundred and twenty dollars."
John didn't even have time to flinch at the massive number before Caleb smoothly stepped forward. The Don reached into his satchel and casually pulled out a thick wad of crisp, high denomination bills.
Caleb dropped four crisp hundred dollar bills onto the glass counter without a single second of hesitation.
"We will take it, Monsieur Rousseau," Caleb stated, his voice ringing with absolute finality. "Keep the change for your excellent service and absolute discretion."
Rousseau's eyes widened at the massive tip. He practically bowed to the floor, his hands shaking as he quickly snapped the velvet box shut and slid it across the glass counter toward John. "Thank you! Thank you, Don McLaughlin! May your brother and his bride have a lifetime of profound happiness!"
John picked up the small velvet box. He held it tightly in his scarred hand, the heavy weight of the platinum and the diamond feeling like the most significant, important thing he had ever carried in his life. The days of him running away from his responsibility, finally over. He looked at Caleb, a silent, overwhelming ocean of gratitude passing between them. "Come on, John," Caleb smiled, clapping the younger man on the shoulder as they turned toward the exit. "Let's go find you a restaurant. You have a proposal to plan."
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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: 2,822 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 284,392 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: -