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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After that, the heavy, lacquered door was pushed closed by the driver. The metallic clack of the heavy brass latch engaging sealed them inside the quiet, opulent sanctuary of the cabin, muffling the outside noise. The driver quickly got onto the high driver's seat, grabbing the heavy leather reins. Outside, Silvio and the four heavily armed guards formed a tight, protective diamond formation around the vehicle.
With a sharp crack of the whip, the four white horses surged forward, and they began to ride out from the mansion's courtyard, passing through the towering iron gates and entering the wealthy, manicured avenues of the Garden District.
As the carriage began to roll smoothly over the paved cobblestones, Antonio at this time leaned forward slightly and formally informed the driver through the small sliding wooden partition behind the driver's box of their exact destination.
"We are heading to the grand commercial square, driver," Antonio instructed, his voice projecting clearly. "Specifically, to the eastern promenade, where Saint Denis' best tailor store, De Coursey, is located. Take the safest, most direct route down the main boulevard."
"Understood, Mr. Antonio," the driver called back. And so, surrounded by a lethal escort of heavily armed mobsters, the driver drove the carriage there.
Inside the velvet lined cabin, the atmosphere was a fascinating mix of ruthless underworld logistics and pure, unadulterated wonder. Mary-Beth, completely captivated by the sprawling metropolis, of course, looked out at the window to see the scenery of the town. She pressed her hands against the polished glass, her dark eyes wide with absolute, breathless amazement.
Since they were still in the incredibly rich district of the city, the sights were nothing short of spectacular. Massive, multi story mansions built from imported white marble and red brick lined the wide avenues, completely surrounded by towering wrought iron fences and lush, perfectly manicured gardens filled with exotic, blooming flowers.
Elegant, horse drawn omnibuses rattled past them, while finely dressed aristocrats in silk top hats and ladies carrying delicate lace parasols strolled leisurely along the pristine, gas lit sidewalks.
Mary-Beth marveled at everything. She had spent the last few years of her life hiding in muddy ravines, sleeping in canvas tents, and fleeing from Pinkerton detectives through the freezing snow of the Grizzlies.
To suddenly find herself riding through the absolute epicenter of Gilded Age wealth, protected by a private army and sitting beside the undisputed king of the city, felt like she had been magically transported into the pages of one of her own romantic novels.
While Mary-Beth was entirely absorbed in the glittering sights of high society, Caleb's mind was operating on a vastly different, highly strategic frequency. He leaned back against the plush velvet cushions, his eyes tracking the movement of the crowds outside, constantly analyzing the city he now owned.
Caleb, at this time, turned his attention away from the window and asked Antonio a highly specific, probing question regarding the political and economic landscape of their destination.
"Antonio," Caleb began, his tone casual but laced with a sharp, undeniable authority. "This tailor we are visiting. Monsieur Charles De Coursey. I have known and meet him myself. If he operates the finest establishment in the commercial square, he must be dealing with the wealthiest elite in the state."
"Indeed he does, Don McLaughlin," Antonio confirmed with a polite nod. "Monsieur De Coursey is an institution in Saint Denis. He imports the finest silks from Paris and the most exquisite wools from London. The Mayor, the senators, and the wealthiest shipping magnates all have their garments tailored exclusively by his hands."
Caleb nodded slowly, processing the information. "A man of high status, then. But does the owner of the tailor, Monsieur Charles De Coursey, know of the changing of the new Don? Has the news of Angelo Bronte's deposition reached the legitimate commercial sectors yet?"
It was a vital question. Caleb needed to know exactly how far his shadow had stretched across the city since his violent coup the previous night.
Antonio, possessing a flawless understanding of the mafia's intricate, city wide extortion network, responded immediately. He offered a knowing, slightly ruthless smile, explaining the mechanics of their empire to the new king.
"He will know, my Don," Antonio assured him confidently. "Since all business owners in the commercial district of Saint Denis, from the lowliest fishmonger on the docks to the highest end Parisian tailor in the square, pay weekly protections to the family. It is the cost of doing business in our city."
Antonio steepled his white gloved fingers, detailing the morning's activities. "The collections are run like clockwork. And also, those soldiers and bagmen who took the protection money to be stored in our ledgers this morning were given very specific, very direct orders."
Antonio looked at Caleb with profound respect. "They should have formally informed them of the absolute changes in leadership. Every merchant who handed over an envelope of cash today was explicitly told that the era of Angelo Bronte is dead and buried. They were told that the new Don, McLaughlin, now holds the keys to the city, and that the protection rates and their absolute loyalty now belong entirely to you."
Caleb listened to the thorough, ruthlessly efficient report, a cold, satisfied smirk touching his lips. He nodded his head at that, incredibly pleased with the smooth, rapid transition of power he had orchestrated. The city was bowing to him without him even having to draw his twin Navy Revolvers.
"Excellent, Antonio. A smooth transition is a profitable transition," Caleb praised his butler.
They rode on for another fifteen minutes, the scenery outside shifting from the quiet, residential mansions of the Garden District to the towering, bustling brick facades of the central commercial square. The streets grew far more crowded.
Pedestrians stopped and pointed as the massive, black-lacquered carriage, flanked by the terrifying, heavily armed riders, rolled through the cobblestone streets. Whispers ripped through the crowds like wildfire. The citizens of Saint Denis recognized the Don's carriage, but the sheer, overwhelming presence of Caleb's elite guards signaled that a new, far more dangerous predator was inside.
Soon, they reached a place to park the carriage directly in front of an incredibly luxurious, multi story brick building boasting massive, pristine glass display windows. Intricate, gold-leaf lettering across the glass proudly read, De Coursey - Tailleur Haute Couture.
The carriage ground to a smooth, gentle halt. Instantly, Silvio and the four guards sprang into action. They spurred their horses forward, forming a tight, highly intimidating semi circle around the carriage doors, aggressively pushing back any curious pedestrians or loitering civilians to ensure the Don had a completely clear, secure path.
When the perimeter was absolutely locked down, the driver hopped down from his box and pulled the heavy carriage door open.
Antonio, maintaining protocol, got down first. The butler stepped onto the cobblestones, glancing around sharply before standing at attention beside the open door.
He was immediately followed by Caleb. The new Don stepped out into the bustling city square, his heavy, silver spurred boots hitting the pavement with a loud clack.
He didn't wear a fine suit today, his dark, rugged Vaquero outfit, combined with the heavy gun belt and the twin revolvers strapped to his thighs, cut a terrifying, lethal figure against the backdrop of high society. The passing aristocrats immediately averted their eyes, terrified by the sheer aura of violence and power that radiated from him.
Caleb then turned back to the carriage, offering both of his strong hands. Mary-Beth, her heart racing with a thrilling mixture of excitement and awe, reached out. She was gently, effortlessly helped by Caleb, who lifted her down from the high step and set her softly onto the cobblestones beside him.
She immediately looped her arm through his, standing tall and proud.
The four guards had already hitched their dark horses to the iron posts lining the street and now stood around them in a loose, highly protective diamond formation. Silvio, towering over the crowd, kept his hand resting casually on the stock of his repeating shotgun, his scarred face daring anyone in the square to make a sudden move.
"Lead the way, Antonio," Caleb commanded softly.
They walked up the wide, pristine white stone stairs to reach the ornate glass double doors of the tailor store. Silvio stepped forward first, pushing the heavy doors open, the small, silver bell above the entrance chiming with a crisp, clear, melodic ring that signaled the arrival of immense wealth.
When they entered the tailor store, the atmosphere inside was a sensory explosion of extreme luxury. The air smelled of expensive cologne, fine imported wool, and rich, polished mahogany. Massive bolts of vibrant silk, velvet, and intricate lace were displayed elegantly on wooden racks.
Several wealthy patrons, a senator and his wife, were currently being attended to by nervous, impeccably dressed shop assistants.
At the center of the grand room stood the owner himself. Charles De Coursey was a tall, incredibly sharp featured man with a meticulously waxed mustache, wearing a pristine, tailored three-piece suit complete with a silk cravat and a measuring tape draped casually around his neck.
Hearing the bell, Charles De Coursey immediately turned around. Assuming it was simply another wealthy aristocrat, he took a step forward and welcomed them with a practiced, highly charming, and professional merchant's smile.
"Bonjour! Welcome, welcome to De Coursey's! Please, come in out of the heat, I shall be right with—"
But the charming greeting completely died in his throat.
When he realized exactly who they were, he was profoundly, visibly surprised. His eyes darted from the terrifying, heavily armed giant standing by the door (Silvio), to the impeccably dressed mafia butler (Antonio), and finally, to the tall, incredibly dangerous looking gunslinger standing in the center of the room with a beautiful woman on his arm.
De Coursey was an intelligent man who survived by knowing the shadows of the city just as well as he knew the light. The bagmen had visited him just three hours ago. He had handed over his envelope of protection money and had been terrified by the news of the violent, overnight regime change.
He knew the face of Caleb Thorne from the whispered rumors and the terrifying bounties, but he had never expected the new King of the Underworld to walk through his front doors on his very first day in power.
The color completely drained from the tailor's face. He quickly abandoned the senator he was helping, practically sprinting across the polished hardwood floor. He stopped a respectful five paces away, trembling slightly, and bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched his knees.
He welcomed the Don incredibly respectfully, his voice shaking with a potent mixture of sheer terror and desperate submission. "Don McLaughlin! M... My deepest apologies! I did not recognize you immediately! Welcome to my establishment! It is... it is the highest, absolute honor of my life to have the new ruler of the city grace my humble shop!"
Caleb smiled, a cold, perfectly calculated expression of absolute dominance mixed with civilized grace. He returned the greeting with a slow, magnanimous nod, engaging his max-level Persuasion Skill to calm the terrified merchant while simultaneously cementing his absolute authority over the man's livelihood.
"Stand up, Monsieur De Coursey," Caleb said, his voice a low, soothing baritone that paradoxically made him even more intimidating. "There is no need to tremble. I am not here to collect taxes. I am here as a paying customer."
Caleb looked around the opulent store, noting the high quality of the garments, saying to the man that he had indeed returned to the city with a drastically different position.
"I have walked past your beautiful windows many times in the past, Charles," Caleb noted smoothly. "But as you have undoubtedly heard from my men this morning, I have returned to this district with a very different position. The city is under new management."
Charles De Coursey swallowed hard, standing up straight but keeping his hands clasped nervously in front of him. He nodded his head frantically, entirely eager to appease the most dangerous man in the state. "Yes, Don McLaughlin! The news was... thoroughly communicated to me. Congratulations on your glorious ascension! We... we all look forward to a long, prosperous, and incredibly peaceful relationship with your family!"
Desperate to change the subject away from mafia politics and back to the safety of commerce, Charles asked Caleb while gesturing broadly around his magnificent shop.
"Please, Don McLaughlin, whatever you desire is yours," De Coursey offered, his voice cracking slightly. "Do you require new tailored suits for yourself? New overcoats for your esteemed men?"
Caleb let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. He didn't care about suits right now. His entire focus, his entire reason for bringing the heavily armed convoy into the heart of the city, was standing right beside him.
And Caleb says to him, his voice filled with immense pride and undeniable affection.
"I am perfectly fine for the moment, Charles," Caleb instructed, his tone shifting into the demanding, uncompromising voice of a rich man. "I am here for her."
And as he said so, he directed the tailor's attention to Mary-Beth. He placed a gentle hand on her back, guiding her slightly forward into the light.
"This is Madam Alice McFarlane," Caleb introduced her, his eyes locking onto the terrified tailor with a look that silently promised unspeakable violence if she was treated with anything less than absolute worship. "She is the future Madam of this city. And tomorrow at noon, she will be standing by my side at the grandest banquet Saint Denis has ever seen."
Caleb swept his hand toward the massive bolts of Parisian silk and the exquisite displays of high fashion gowns.
"I want to buy many dresses for my Madam," Caleb commanded, the sheer financial weight of his order hanging in the air. "I want the finest silks, the most delicate lace, and the most spectacular designs you possess. I want an entire wardrobe tailored specifically for her. But most importantly, Charles, I want a gown for tomorrow's coronation that will make every single high society woman in this city fall to their knees. Money is absolutely no object. Can you fulfill this request?"
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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: -