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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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.
"You did it?!" Arthur cheered, clapping his massive hands together. "Well I'll be damned! Congratulations, John!"
"I told you she'd say yes," Caleb grinned, walking around the table to shake the man's hand.
However, Hosea, who had been completely buried in the logistics of shipping manifests and union contracts for the last forty eight hours, was entirely out of the loop. The old man blinked, looking incredibly confused as he watched the two younger men celebrate.
"Hold on a minute," Hosea interrupted, leaning heavily on his walking cane and looking between them. "Done what? What are you all talking about? Did John goes to do something while we were in here looking at maps?"
Arthur turned to the patriarch, unable to wipe the massive grin off his face. He quickly told Hosea exactly what had happened, leaning in to fill the old man in on the secret they had been keeping for the last two days. "He proposed, old man. John just asked Abigail to marry him."
Hosea's eyes went wide. The confusion melted away in a split second, replaced by a look of sheer, incredibly touching warmth. The old man's face completely lit up. He walked over, leaning on his cane, and pulled John into a tight, fatherly embrace.
"John... my boy," Hosea smiled, patting the younger man firmly on the back. He congratulated John with deep, genuine affection. "I am so incredibly happy for you. And for her. It's about damn time you made an honest woman out of her."
Right at this exact time, acting as the perfect, joyous punctuation to the moment, a sudden, deafening chorus of high pitched shrieks echoed loudly from the hallway outside the room.
The sound was so loud it actually made Silvio flinch. It was the unmistakable, chaotic sound of several women completely losing their minds with excitement. It was the girls of the camp, Mary-Beth, Tilly, Karen, and Molly, minus Sadie Adler, of course, who was likely just offering a firm handshake or a supportive slap on the arm rather than shrieking.
"Looks like Abigail just broke the news to the girls in the drawing room," Caleb laughed, listening to the muffled sounds of crying and cheering bleeding through the heavy oak doors. "She probably flashed that chunk of platinum you bought her and caused a riot."
John rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushed but his eyes shining with absolute pride. "Yeah, she's showing off the ring. I barely managed to slip away to tell you boys."
After the initial wave of congratulations settled down, John cleared his throat, addressing everyone in the room, including the mafia lieutenants who were watching the display of family loyalty with profound respect.
John then said to everyone, "Listen, we are going to be having the official celebration of our engagement tonight. We are holding it at the restaurant that Caleb and I chose a couple of days ago. La Terrasse du Saule."
He looked at Arthur and Hosea. "I want you both there. The whole camp is coming."
"Are you kidding me?" Arthur laughed, adjusting his suspenders. "Try and stop us. Of course we are coming to this celebration. I wouldn't miss this for all the gold in Ambarino."
"We will all be there, John," Hosea promised warmly.
Caleb smiled, stepping back toward the head of the table. His family was celebrating the greatest milestone of their lives, and he refused to let the heavy, bloody burdens of the underworld interfere with their joy.
He turned his sharp blue eyes to Antonio, Vincenzo, and Silvio.
"Gentlemen," Caleb addressed his three most lethal subordinates, his tone shifting into absolute command. "I will be entirely busy tonight. I am off the clock. Therefore, I will leave the total handling of the city's security, the perimeter defenses, and the monitoring of the rail yards to the three of you."
Caleb locked eyes with Vincenzo. "If a rival gang breathes wrong in this city tonight, you handle it. Do not send a runner to fetch me. Do not knock on the doors of the restaurant. Tonight, my family celebrates in absolute peace. Am I understood?"
The three mafia veterans did not hesitate. They bowed their heads deeply, their expressions dead serious.
"You have our absolute word, Don McLaughlin," Vincenzo swore, his scarred face completely stoic. "The city will be as quiet as a graveyard. Enjoy your evening with your family."
Silvio and Antonio nodded their heads in synchronized agreement. The Don's peace was absolutely guaranteed.
Time passed rapidly, the golden hues of the late afternoon melting into the deep, cool blues of early evening.
The entire Van der Linde gang departed the Garden District mansion in a massive fleet of carriages, heading toward the western edge of the commercial district. The atmosphere was electric.
Everyone in the gang came to the restaurant wearing the most decent, respectable clothes they currently possessed. Thanks to Caleb's limitless mob bankroll, the men were no longer wearing dirty dusters and mud caked boots. Lenny and Sean wore sharp tweed suits, Charles wore a beautifully tailored, dark linen jacket, and even Uncle had managed to find a clean shirt and a decent bowler hat.
The women looked absolutely stunning, their hair pinned up elegantly, wearing bright, vibrant evening dresses that made them look like true high society citizens.
Even Caleb and Mary-Beth intentionally dressed down just a fraction. Caleb wore a simple, beautifully cut dark suit without the heavy, intimidating pocket watches or gold tie pins he usually wore for mafia business.
Mary-Beth wore a lovely, understated lavender dress. They did this deliberately, out of profound love and respect, so that the absolute focus of the evening would remain entirely on John and Abigail.
They arrived at La Terrasse du Saule.
When the gang walked through the wrought iron front gates, they were completely blown away. Caleb's money had transformed the already beautiful restaurant into an absolute, private paradise.
The entire outdoor courtyard had been bought out and completely closed to the public. The ancient, towering weeping willow tree in the center was heavily draped in hundreds of glowing, warm yellow paper lanterns, casting a soft, romantic light over the pristine, crushed white stone of the courtyard. The air smelled strongly of blooming jasmine and roasting garlic.
A massive, long banquet table had been set up directly beneath the willow branches, covered in a pristine white tablecloth, sparkling crystal glasses, and shining silver cutlery.
The portly Italian owner practically wept with joy as he welcomed the massive party, ushering them toward the table while a small, incredibly talented acoustic band played soft, cheerful music in the corner.
"This place is incredible," Arthur muttered to Caleb as they walked toward their seats, looking up at the glowing paper lanterns. "You really pulled out all the stops for him."
"He earned it," Caleb smiled.
At the absolute center of the table sat the guests of honor. Abigail looked radiant. She was wearing a beautiful, deep crimson dress that Karen and Tilly had helped her pick out. Her dark hair was styled perfectly, but the most breathtaking thing about her was the sheer, unbelievable joy radiating from her face.
She couldn't stop looking down at her left hand, where the heavy, flawless platinum and diamond ring caught the light of the paper lanterns and sparkled with blinding brilliance.
John sat beside her, looking incredibly proud, incredibly relieved, and more relaxed than anyone had ever seen him. Little Jack, wearing a tiny, perfectly tailored suit with a little bowtie, was running around the crushed white stone of the courtyard, chasing fireflies and laughing endlessly.
The feast that followed was nothing short of legendary.
The waiters brought out massive, steaming silver platters of food. There were perfectly seared, thick cuts of prime beef, bowls of creamy roasted garlic potatoes, fresh asparagus dripping in butter, and massive plates of handmade Italian pasta covered in rich, savory sauces.
Pearson, sitting near the middle of the table, took one bite of the steak and simply closed his eyes in pure, unadulterated culinary defeat. He didn't even try to critique it, he just happily devoured his meal, thrilled to finally be eating food he didn't have to cook himself.
Bottles of premium, full bodied Italian red wine and aged whiskey flowed like water. The glasses were never empty, and the laughter never stopped.
Without the suffocating presence of Dutch van der Linde's endless, paranoid monologues, and completely free from the toxic, venomous whispering of Micah Bell, both of whom were long dead and rotting in the dirt, the family dynamic was utterly pure.
There was no tension. There were no hidden agendas. It was just a group of people who had survived hell, finally finding their heaven.
Halfway through the dinner, Arthur Morgan stood up. He tapped his silver fork against the side of his crystal wine glass. Clink, clink, clink.
The rowdy chatter of the table slowly died down. Everyone turned to look at the big, broad shouldered enforcer.
Arthur looked down at John and Abigail, a soft, incredibly genuine smile on his scarred face. He raised his glass of red wine high into the air.
"I ain't much for speeches," Arthur began, his deep, gravelly voice echoing softly in the quiet courtyard. "You all know that. Usually, I let Hosea or Caleb do the talking."
A ripple of fond laughter went around the table.
"But," Arthur continued, his eyes locking onto John. "I've known this fool since he was just a stray kid. I've wanted to kill him a dozen times. I've wanted to leave him in the snow. And God knows he's given Abigail more grey hairs than any woman deserves."
John chuckled, wrapping his arm securely around Abigail's shoulders. She leaned into him, smiling brightly.
"But looking at the two of you tonight," Arthur said, his voice thickening with a heavy, profound emotion. "Looking at what we've all been through... the blood, the running, the fighting... it makes me realize that this right here is the only thing that actually matters. Family. Loyalty. And finally keeping your damn promises."
Arthur raised his glass higher, looking at everyone sitting around the glowing table. "To John and Abigail. May you have a hundred years of peace. And may you never have to sleep in a muddy tent ever again."
"To John and Abigail!" Caleb cheered loudly, raising his own glass.
"To John and Abigail!" Hosea, Lenny, Sadie, Charles, and the rest of the gang roared in unison, raising their glasses into the cool evening air.
They drank deeply, the wine tasting sweeter than it ever had before.
The celebration continued deep into the night. Sadie Adler walked over and punched John firmly on the shoulder, threatening to shoot him if he ever broke Abigail's heart, before pulling the bride to be into a surprisingly fierce, joyous hug.
Javier Escuella borrowed a guitar from the acoustic band and played a beautiful, soulful Mexican ballad that had Tilly and Karen swaying in their seats. Bill Williamson, Uncle, and Sean MacGuire engaged in a massive, highly competitive drinking contest at the end of the table, completely obliterating the restaurant's supply of whiskey.
Caleb sat back in his chair, his arm resting casually behind Mary-Beth. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her eyes heavy with contentment as she watched her sisters laugh.
Caleb looked around the courtyard. He saw Arthur and Hosea smoking cigars and laughing at a joke Lenny was telling. He saw Jack sleeping soundly on two pushed together chairs, covered by Arthur's suit jacket. He saw Abigail staring at her diamond ring, a tear of pure happiness slipping down her cheek as John kissed her forehead.
It was a masterpiece of survival. Caleb had twisted the timeline, slaughtered an Italian crime syndicate, burned a billionaire's factory, and taken absolute control of the largest city in the South. He had done terrible, violent things to secure his power. But as he sat beneath the glowing yellow lanterns of the willow tree, surrounded by the people he loved, Caleb knew with absolute, unshakeable certainty that he would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
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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: -