If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
...
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The sun was officially beginning to set as the carriage rolled toward the western edge of the commercial district. The gas lamps lining the cobblestone avenues were flickering to life, casting a warm, brilliant, orange glow over the city. The humid heat of the afternoon was finally breaking, giving way to a cool, refreshing evening breeze blowing in off the Lannahechee River.
They pulled up to the sixth restaurant on the list. It was a place called La Terrasse du Saule, The Willow Terrace.
From the street, it didn't look like much. It was a beautiful, but relatively modest, two story brick building covered in thick, creeping green ivy. There was no massive glass conservatory, no gold leaf signs, and no loud string quartets playing on the balcony.
But when Caleb and John walked through the wrought-iron front gates, they stepped into an absolute, hidden paradise.
The restaurant was built around a massive, sprawling outdoor courtyard.
In the very center of the courtyard grew an ancient, towering weeping willow tree, its long, graceful branches draped heavily with glowing, warm yellow paper lanterns. The tables were spread far apart, offering complete, uninterrupted privacy. They rested on a bed of meticulously swept, crushed white stone, surrounded by blooming, fragrant jasmine bushes.
The atmosphere was incredibly quiet, deeply intimate, and undeniably beautiful, but it completely lacked the stiff, suffocating pretension of the first restaurant they had visited.
The patrons were laughing softly, enjoying hearty, thick cuts of roasted steaks, buttery potatoes, and simple, robust red wines. There were no white gloves, no whispering waiters, just pure, elegant comfort.
The owner, a warm, portly Italian man, hurried over to greet Don McLaughlin. He immediately escorted them to a completely secluded, private table nestled perfectly under the cascading branches of the glowing willow tree.
He didn't bring them tiny plates of caviar. He brought them two massive, perfectly seared cuts of prime beef, a steaming bowl of roasted garlic potatoes, and a bottle of rich, full bodied Italian red wine.
John sat at the table beneath the warm, flickering light of the paper lanterns. He took a bite of the steak. It was incredible, hearty, perfectly cooked, and deeply satisfying. He looked around the beautiful, quiet courtyard.
He looked at the soft light filtering through the willow branches. He pictured Abigail sitting across from him, wearing a beautiful dress, a glass of wine in her hand, far away from the mud and the noise and the fear of their past.
It was practical. It was gorgeous. It was real.
John slowly set his fork down on the pristine white tablecloth. He let out a deep, profound breath, all the anxiety and the overwhelming exhaustion of the day completely melting away.
"This is it," John said, his voice entirely devoid of hesitation. He looked across the table at Caleb, a wide, absolutely certain grin breaking across his scarred face. "Caleb, this is it. This is the place."
Caleb took a sip of his wine, a deep sense of satisfaction settling into his chest. He looked around the glowing, peaceful courtyard, knowing his brother had finally found exactly what he was looking for.
"It's perfect," Caleb agreed warmly. "It suits her entirely."
In the end, John had finally chosen the one place which he felt in his heart was the absolute perfect choice for Abigail as well. It had taken hours of tasting, riding, and debating, but the exhaustive journey had completely paid off.
Caleb signaled the portly owner over to the table. He didn't just ask to reserve the table. Utilizing his limitless capital, Caleb casually instructed the man to completely buy out the entire courtyard for a private, highly exclusive engagement party the following evening.
He ordered the absolute best cuts of meat, the finest wine in the cellar, and explicitly told the owner to spare absolutely no expense for his family's celebration. The owner, practically weeping with joy at the massive influx of cash, bowed a dozen times and swore it would be a night they would never forget.
When all of that logistical planning and booking was completely done, Caleb and John finally stood up from the table and walked back out to the waiting carriage.
The time was already early evening. The sky above Saint Denis had bruised into a deep, beautiful mixture of dark purple and vibrant orange. The city was coming alive with the electric glow of the nightlife, but for John, the only thing that mattered was the small, heavy velvet box resting safely in his pocket. The ring was bought, the restaurant was secured, and the future was finally, brilliantly clear.
The carriage ride back to the Garden District mansion was mostly filled with a comfortable, heavy silence. The iron shod wheels clattered rhythmically against the cobblestones, carrying the two men away from the bustling, gas lit commercial center and back toward the quiet, heavily guarded sanctuary of the western estates.
Inside the plush, velvet lined cabin, John Marston sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes staring out the window, but his hand kept unconsciously drifting down to rest against the outer pocket of his denim vest. He was guarding the small velvet box as if it held the very beating heart of the world.
Caleb watched him, a knowing, brotherly smile touching his lips. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.
"You know, John," Caleb said, breaking the long silence with a low, encouraging tone. "You could begin your proposal tomorrow right away, if you wanted to. The ring is bought, the restaurant is entirely booked and paid for. All you have to do is take her for a carriage ride and walk her through those wrought iron gates."
John broke his gaze away from the passing streetlamps and looked at Caleb. He let out a low, genuine chuckle, slowly shaking his head. The nervous energy had settled into a sharp, practical awareness of the woman he loved.
"No," John said, a fond, highly amused smirk crossing his scarred face. "I think I'll hold off on it for a couple of days first before I actually do the deed."
"Why wait?" Caleb asked, tilting his head. "You've got everything you need."
"Because I know Abigail," John answered, leaning back against the cushions. "While she might act like she's just overwhelmed by this big, fancy mansion and all these new clothes, she is actually incredibly perceptive. She's got eyes like a hawk, Caleb. I'm terrified that she will find out, or at least catch wind of something moving in this direction, strictly due to the fact that I spent the entire day out on the town without telling her exactly what I was doing. If I propose tomorrow, she'll know I was out plotting. I need to let the trail go cold. Let her think I was just out running errands for you."
Caleb laughed out loud, deeply appreciating the tactical brilliance of John's romantic strategy. "That is actually a very smart play, John. Let the suspicion die down. Act perfectly normal for forty eight hours, and she will never see it coming."
Soon, the black lacquered carriage rolled through the towering iron gates of the estate, crunching to a halt on the white gravel driveway.
When they arrived back at the mansion and finally got off the carriage, John turned to Caleb before they headed up the sweeping marble steps.
"Hey, Caleb," John said, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice dropping into a slightly more business like tone. "I know I just got a new job working as an some sort of special messenger slash enforcer for the family, but... I wouldn't be working for the next couple of days. I need to take some time off. I've got to prepare myself mentally, and there are also a couple of things I need to set up."
"Like what?" Caleb asked.
"Like taking pictures, for example," John explained, a soft, hopeful look in his eyes. "I want to hire a proper photographer in town to take a portrait of us after I propose to Abigail. A real picture. Not a wanted poster, but something we can frame and hang on a wall. Something to show Jack when he gets older."
Caleb's expression softened entirely. The profound humanity of the request hit him right in the chest.
"Take all the time you need, John. You have unlimited leave," Caleb said, patting him firmly on the shoulder. He offered a wide, confident smile. "No worries at all. Focus on your family. And I wish you the absolute best of luck... even though you aren't going to need it. She loves you. But who knows, maybe she'll make you sweat for a minute just for the fun of it."
John chuckled, tipping his hat. "I wouldn't put it past her. Thanks, Caleb."
After that conversation in the garden, a couple of highly productive, incredibly busy days passed by in a flash.
While John was busy dodging Abigail's suspicious glares and secretly coordinating with local Saint Denis photographers, the Don of the city was buried deep in the monumental logistics of his expanding corporate empire.
Inside the massive, mahogany paneled private study on the second floor, a high level meeting was currently underway. Caleb stood at the head of a large, map covered table, actively coordinating the military and industrial movements of his syndicate with his top lieutenants.
Antonio, Vincenzo, and Silvio stood on one side of the table, representing the old, lethal blood of the Italian mafia. Hosea and Arthur stood on the other, representing the new, incredibly sharp tactical minds of the Don's inner circle.
The primary topic of discussion was the massive plot of land on the western outskirts of the city.
"The clearance of the land in the west is finally finished, Don McLaughlin," Antonio reported, his white gloved finger tracing the borders of the property on the map. "The laborers we hired from the slums worked with exceptional speed. The trees are felled, the brush is burned, and the ground is completely leveled. The site is physically ready for construction."
Caleb nodded his head, his sharp blue eyes analyzing the access roads. "Excellent. But now, it just needs to be guarded and entirely secured. The heavy freight train from Connecticut, carrying millions of dollars worth of Thorne-Marlin firearms production equipment, raw steel, and specialized engineers, will arrive soon. It could pull into the station at any moment within the next twenty four hours."
Arthur leaned over the table, immediately stepping into his role as the Head of Security. "We can't leave that kind of hardware sitting in an open rail yard, Caleb. The Lemoyne Raiders or some desperate dock gangs might try to hijack the shipments before we can move them to the factory site."
"Agreed," Vincenzo rumbled, his scarred face grim. "We need a perimeter."
"Arthur," Caleb ordered, deferring to his general. "Work with Silvio. Take fifty of our most heavily armed men and lock down the western rail yard. When that train arrives, I want an impenetrable wall of rifles between our machinery and the rest of the city. No one gets within a hundred yards of those train cars without your explicit permission."
"You got it, Boss," Arthur nodded, already mentally drafting the guard rotations.
Right at this highly serious, heavily tactical moment, the heavy brass latch of the study doors clicked loudly. The doors were pushed open, and John Marston stepped into the room.
He wasn't wearing his denim vest. He was wearing a surprisingly sharp, dark grey three piece suit, his hair slicked back and a fresh shave completely altering his usually rugged appearance. He looked a bit breathless, his chest heaving as if he had just run up the grand staircase.
"I... I apologize for interrupting, Don McLaughlin," John said, stepping into the room and gently pulling the heavy doors shut behind him. He looked at the gathered men, the mafia lieutenants, and his older brothers.
He didn't walk over to the map. He simply stood near the door, a massive, brilliant, completely unrestrained smile breaking across his scarred face.
He looked directly at Caleb, Arthur, and Hosea. "I've done it," John announced, his voice thick with a profound, overwhelming emotion that he didn't even try to hide.
Caleb and Arthur instantly completely abandoned the map. A look of sheer, unadulterated joy crossed both of their faces. Caleb let out a loud laugh, tossing his pen onto the table, while Arthur practically beamed with pride.
...
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: -