After his shower, Henry barricaded the door with two granite blocks and then sat down to take stock.
The assault on the New York black market had yielded an immense haul: 19 green pearls, 161 white, and 195 grey. Only one green and two white pearls pulsed with a skill or talent.
His progress bar now read Level 3, 35.13%.
He now had a total pearl energy equivalent to 1,200 grey pearls, enough to upgrade a LV 4 skill to the Grandmaster tier, or to upgrade two of his LV 1 talents.
He decided to wait. His current combat strength was sufficient. He would save the energy to upgrade his Constitution to LV 4 when he had accumulated enough.
He used the three new skill-bearing pearls.
The warm current washed over him. He was flooded with a lifetime of new experiences: the knowledge of a master sailor who had circumnavigated the globe in a sixty-foot yacht; the instincts of a swimmer who was one with the water; and a profound, innate resistance to the cold.
When he came to his senses, four minutes had passed. He had gained a new skill, Sailing LV 4, upgraded his Swimming to LV 4, and acquired a new talent: Cold Resistance LV 1, which doubled his natural tolerance for low temperatures.
All of them were practical and useful. The winters in Frisco were long and brutal.
With his upgrades complete, Henry unbarricaded the door and went downstairs for breakfast.
The news of the complete destruction of the Raven Brotherhood spread through the New York underworld like a plague.
The leader of the Whyos Gang, Mike, read the report, the usual cavalier smirk gone from his face. He had always been wary of the Brotherhood; their power was immense, and their intelligence network was second to none. For them to be wiped out overnight, by an unknown enemy… it was a terrifying thought. He knew Henry had just arrived in the city, but it was impossible for one man to have done this. He must have powerful allies, Mike concluded. He gave a new order to his men: tail Henry, but under no circumstances were they to engage him or his friends.
The Pinkerton's New York branch chief, a man named Alston, received a similar report from his headquarters in Chicago and immediately dispatched his own agents to investigate.
The city's other major players all began to move their pieces on the board.
And the local precinct captain, Alva, was having a very, very bad day. A burned-down building was one thing. A burned-down building with over two hundred bodies piled in the courtyard was another. The mayor's office was demanding answers, and he had none. Not a single witness would come forward.
After breakfast, Henry returned to his room, locked the door, and began the long, tedious task of counting the cash from the three hundred-plus money pouches he had collected over the past four days.
Just as he was starting, there was a knock at the door. It was the hotel manager, with two men in tow.
"Mr. Bruce," the manager said respectfully, "these are the tailors from the Astor family, sent by Miss Kaylee. They are here to take your measurements."
On the train, Henry had asked Kaylee to recommend a good tailor. She had insisted on having two bespoke suits made for him as a gift.
After the tailors had finished their work, they informed him it would take at least ten days to complete the suits. It would be too late for the week of balls and parties that were about to begin, but his one existing suit, with the hotel's dry-cleaning service, would have to suffice.
He locked the door, re-barricaded it with the granite blocks, and went back to his work.
It took him nearly two hours to count all the cash. Two of the pouches, likely belonging to the Younger brothers, had contained over a thousand dollars each. In total, he had collected $8,689.40.
Next, he opened the two safes.
He stared at the contents, a slow grin spreading across his face.
Inside were 15,460 ounces of gold, $253,800 in cash, and another $156,800 in bearer bonds and railroad securities. The total value was roughly $730,000.
There were also fourteen property deeds for various locations in New York City.
In the two weeks since he had arrived in this world, Henry had become a millionaire.
He suspected most of the money had come from the illegal fighting pits in the clubhouse basement. It was Sunday; he had likely hit them on their settlement day.
He then read through the files from the safes. He now had a much clearer picture of the "Gilded Age," and the true power structure of the city. He saw how the black market was deeply entwined with the city's corrupt political machine, a machine that controlled the gangs, the police, and the government itself.
He now understood the full extent of the enemy he had made.
And he knew, with a chilling certainty, that they would never stop coming for him.