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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"I am writing to you tonight with the most excellent, triumphant news. The grand vision you set into motion so many months ago has finally reached its physical culmination. I am incredibly proud to inform you that the massive, multi story luxury hotel complex here in Strawberry is finally finished. The long, arduous construction phase, including the complex integration of the hydroelectric dam power grid you designed, has been completed. The structure is structurally sound, fully powered, and entirely secure."
Caleb's smile grew even wider. He could picture it perfectly. A towering, modern beacon of Gilded Age luxury sitting directly in the middle of the rugged, untamed western frontier, entirely owned by his syndicate.
But Strauss, ever the meticulous accountant, immediately pivoted from celebrating the victory to addressing the stark, capitalistic realities of opening a high end hospitality business.
"However, my Don, the building currently stands empty. Now that the architects and the heavy laborers have departed, we would urgently need a massive injection of liquid funds to completely fill the interior of the hotel. To attract the wealthy tourists, the politicians, and the tycoons you wish to host, the rooms cannot simply be functional, they must be opulent."
"I have not been idle on this front," Strauss continued, his business acumen shining brilliantly through the ink. "I have spent the last few weeks making some highly lucrative, exclusive connections in the town of Strawberry. I have managed to cut a highly favorable, exclusive deal with the master carpenters and local lumber mills down here. They are prepared to build all the heavy wooden furniture, the four poster beds, the mahogany wardrobes, and the grand dining tables, using the finest local timber, making it seem incredibly high class and rustic, of course, at a fraction of the cost of importing it from the other towns."
"But, as for the other, more delicate furnishings required for a true luxury hotel, the imported Persian rugs, the brass chandeliers, the crystal glassware, the velvet draperies, and the fine art, I cannot simply order these from a catalogue. The expenditure will be massive. I feel we desperately need to discuss the specific aesthetic direction and the budget for these items together."
"Therefore, I sincerely hope you could find the time in your demanding schedule to come down here to Strawberry. I need you to authorize the interior budget, and more importantly, I need you to personally inspect the finished building as well, to ensure it meets your absolute, exacting standards."
"Faithfully yours, Leopold Strauss."
Caleb finished reading the letter, his max level Business Skill instantly running the complex financial logistics of outfitting a hundred-room luxury resort. He nodded his head, a bright, deeply satisfied smile fixed on his face.
He was incredibly, profoundly happy that his hotel, a cornerstone of his legitimate, money laundering empire, was finally structurally done. The heavy lifting was over, now it was time for the polishing.
He rolled the thick parchment back up and tapped it thoughtfully against his chin. He looked up at Antonio, who had remained standing in the foyer in absolute, perfect silence, waiting for his master's command.
"Antonio," Caleb said, his voice ringing with absolute, decisive authority. "The hotel in Strawberry is ready for the final phase. We need to move immediately."
"Of course, Don McLaughlin. How may I assist in the preparations?" the butler inquired smoothly.
"I need you to send a man down to the central Saint Denis train station right now," Caleb ordered, rising from his chair and stepping back into the center of the marble foyer. "I want him to buy several first-class, private cabin tickets for the absolute earliest express train departing tomorrow morning. We are going to take the railway as far west as it goes, to the nearest operational train station to the town of Strawberry, likely Riggs Station or Wallace Station."
Caleb mapped out the sudden, highly critical itinerary. "I cannot manage the interior design of a luxury resort through the mail. Because tomorrow, I will go out there to personally inspect my new business and authorize the final capital expenditures."
Antonio, hearing the sudden, massive shift in the Don's schedule, didn't blink an eye. He was a master of logistics, and he thrived on executing sudden, high level commands. He nodded his head deeply, bowing from the waist.
"Right away, my Don," Antonio said smoothly. "I will dispatch a rider to the station immediately to secure the private luxury cars. The funds will be drawn from the primary holding accounts."
Before turning to leave and execute the incredibly important task, Antonio paused. He looked back at Caleb, anticipating the security and administrative needs of a massive, cross state expedition.
"And regarding your entourage, Don McLaughlin?" Antonio inquired. "The western territories can be quite unpredictable, and a man of your stature should not travel unprotected. Who would you like me to purchase tickets for to accompany you?"
Caleb didn't even have to think about it. His mind instantly constructed the perfect, highly lethal, and deeply strategic team. This wasn't just an inspection tour, it was a massive projection of his syndicate's absolute power.
He wanted the rugged West to see the terrifying, disciplined might of his mafia, and he wanted his mafia lieutenants to see the sprawling, legitimate frontiers of the empire they were sworn to protect.
Caleb looked at Antonio, his sharp blue eyes completely devoid of hesitation.
"I am bringing the heavy artillery, Antonio," Caleb said, his voice dropping into the cold, uncompromising cadence of a military general outlining a deployment. "Buy a ticket for Vincenzo. And buy a ticket for Silvio. I want my Underboss and my chief enforcer by my side to witness the scale of our legitimate expansion."
He then added the two men who possessed the brilliant frontier logic needed to navigate the western towns. "I also want tickets for Arthur and Hosea. They know that territory better than anyone alive, and I need their strategic counsel on the ground."
Caleb paused, a dark, incredibly powerful smirk touching his lips as he finalized the overwhelming roster.
"And lastly, Antonio," Caleb commanded, raising a single finger to emphasize the absolute show of force he was orchestrating. "Purchase tickets for a couple of Vincenzo's most battle-hardened, terrifying capos. The men who took the compound with me. We are going to walk into the town of Strawberry looking like an absolute, unstoppable corporate army. I want the local lawmen, the rival investors, and anyone else who might think about crossing Leopold Strauss to take one look at my men and realize that the entire weight of the Saint Denis underworld is backing that hotel."
Antonio's eyes widened slightly, a look of profound, terrifying respect crossing his immaculate features. He completely understood the brilliant, highly intimidating psychology of the Don's strategy.
"A flawless projection of absolute power, my Don," Antonio bowed deeply, practically sweeping the marble floor. "The tickets will be secured, the private train cars will be heavily stocked with provisions, and the men will be armed and ready to depart at first light."
"Excellent," Caleb nodded, feeling the incredible momentum of his empire pushing him ever forward. "Have the staff wake Arthur and Hosea early tomorrow. It seems their first outing as the new executive begin tomorrow."
With the monumental logistics of the western expansion firmly set into motion, Antonio turned on his heel and moved rapidly down the hallway to dispatch the late night runners. Caleb stood alone in the grand, chandelier lit foyer of his palace, holding the letter from Strauss in his hand. The engagement party had been a beautiful closure to their desperate past, but as Caleb looked toward the heavy oak doors, he knew the future of the McLaughlin empire was only just beginning.
The early morning sun had not yet fully crested over the sprawling, industrial skyline of Saint Denis, leaving the affluent Garden District bathed in a cool, misty, pre dawn blue. The air was thick with the humid scent of magnolia blossoms and the distant, metallic hum of the city slowly grinding to life.
Inside the palatial mansion, the absolute quiet of the early hour stood in stark contrast to the loud, joyous, and incredibly rowdy engagement celebration that had consumed the courtyard of La Terrasse du Saule just a few hours prior.
Caleb Thorne woke up early, his internal clock entirely immune to the lingering exhaustion of the previous night's festivities. He slipped out of the massive, silk sheeted canopy bed with the silent, practiced grace of a frontier survivor.
He looked down at Mary-Beth, who was still sleeping soundly, her dark hair fanned out beautifully across the plush white pillows. She looked entirely peaceful, completely secure in the fortress he had built for her.
He moved quietly to the massive mahogany wardrobe in the corner of the master suite. Sitting perfectly upright on a velvet luggage stand was his heavy, premium leather traveling suitcase.
Caleb ran a hand over the smooth, brass buckled leather, a warm, profoundly affectionate smile touching his lips. Mary-Beth had meticulously prepared it for him late last night.
Even through the joyous haze of the engagement party, her sharp, supportive mind had remembered that today he would be going all the way out to the rugged mountain town of Strawberry to go and check the luxury hotel which had finally been finished in its construction.
She had packed his crispest shirts, his finest tailored waistcoats, and his heavy woolen coats, anticipating the sharp drop in temperature up in the high-altitude pine forests of West Elizabeth.
Caleb quickly dressed himself, opting for a sharp, impeccably tailored dark grey three piece suit that commanded corporate authority, paired with a thick, weather resistant black overcoat. He grabbed the handle of the heavy leather suitcase and quietly slipped out of the master suite, pulling the heavy oak door shut with a soft, barely audible click.
When Caleb walked down the sweeping, red-carpeted marble stairs to the grand foyer, he found that he was not the only one awake.
He met with Arthur Morgan and Hosea Matthews standing near the base of the staircase. The two veteran outlaws, who had officially accepted their incredibly lucrative executive positions within his empire just yesterday, were leaning heavily against the polished marble pillars.
They also had some form of their own traveling bags resting on the floor beside their boots, Arthur carrying a battered, heavy canvas duffel bag, and Hosea holding a refined, albeit worn, leather satchel filled with his clothes and ledgers.
The two of them looked absolutely exhausted. They had celebrated John's engagement well into the early hours of the morning, drinking premium bourbon and smoking cigars, and they were clearly feeling the brutal, unforgiving weight of the hangover.
Seeing Caleb descending the stairs looking completely refreshed, perfectly groomed, and radiating boundless, terrifying energy, the both of them could only shake their heads. They exchanged a look of mutual, weary solidarity and offered the Don a very tired, incredibly strained smile.
"You are a machine, Caleb," Arthur groaned, rubbing his bloodshot green eyes with the heel of his massive hand. "A goddamn, relentless machine. Do you even sleep, or do you just power down for an hour and recharge?"
Hosea chuckled, though the sound quickly turned into a raspy cough. "I was drinking fine Italian wine less than four hours ago, Caleb. If you make me run through a gunfight today, I am going to politely decline and go back to sleep in the dirt."
Caleb let out a highly sheepish, apologetic chuckle, shifting the heavy leather suitcase to his other hand.
"I apologize, boys," Caleb grinned, entirely unsympathetic to their plight but highly amused by it. "The wheels of industry wait for no man's hangover. We have a multi hundreds of thousands of dollars asset sitting empty in the mountains, and I need my chief advisor and my head of security sharp. Drink some water on the train. You'll survive."
Arthur just grunted, picking up his heavy canvas duffel bag. Hosea sighed, adjusting the grip on his walking cane, and the three of them moved to leave through the heavy, brass studded front doors together.
When Antonio pulled the massive double doors open, the cool morning mist rolled into the foyer. Caleb, Arthur, and Hosea stepped out onto the wide marble porch of the estate, and the sheer, uncompromising military reality of their new lives was immediately presented to them.
Vincenzo and Silvio, alongside several of the most terrifying, battle hardened capos in the entire Saint Denis mafia, were already waiting for them on the crushed white gravel of the driveway.
They were an intimidating, incredibly lethal sight. Vincenzo, the scarred Underboss, wore a pristine black suit and a heavy wool trench coat, looking every bit the ruthless apex predator he was. Silvio, the giant enforcer, stood like an immovable mountain of muscle, a massive, custom built repeating shotgun resting casually over his massive shoulder.
The five capos standing behind them were all heavily scarred, stone faced killers who had fought alongside Caleb during the bloody coup of Bronte's mansion. They were armed to the teeth with repeater rifles, heavy revolvers, and hunting knives, all concealed neatly beneath expensive, dark city coats.
Without any boring, unnecessary small talks, the operation commenced. The time for high society pleasantries was over, they were moving with absolute, corporate military efficiency.
"Good morning, Don McLaughlin," Vincenzo greeted, bowing his head sharply. "The perimeter is secured. The convoy is ready."
"Let's move, Vincenzo," Caleb nodded.
Caleb, Arthur, Hosea, Vincenzo, and Silvio entered the primary, heavy duty black lacquered carriage. The five heavily armed capos smoothly mounted their powerful, dark bay horses, instantly forming a flawless, diamond shaped defensive formation around the transport.
The driver cracked the whip, and they immediately headed to the central train station. The ride through the waking city was fast and unimpeded, the early morning fog parting around the intimidating convoy as they navigated the cobblestone avenues.
Arriving at the massive, steam filled cathedral of the Saint Denis central train station, they got off the carriage and moved through the crowded platforms like a localized force of nature. Wealthy travelers, porters, and ticket clerks immediately scrambled out of their way, recognizing the terrifying, disciplined aura of the mafia vanguard.
They bypassed the public ticketing booths entirely and boarded the massive, heavy duty express train, stepping directly into the luxurious private carriage in which the tickets had already been exclusively reserved for them by the ever efficient Antonio.
Once the heavy iron doors were secured by Silvio, the conductor blew the high pitched whistle. The massive steam locomotive hissed, throwing sparks onto the tracks, and then the train started.
The massive machine slowly ground its way out of the glass canopy of the station, picking up aggressive speed as it went to leave the swamps of Lemoyne behind, heading far west toward Riggs Station.
Inside the private carriage, the contrast between the lethal men occupying the space and the sheer opulence of the surroundings was staggering.
The car was a masterpiece of private railway luxury, lined with polished cherry wood, thick velvet curtains, and incredibly soft, plush leather seating. There was a private, fully stocked mahogany bar at the far end of the car, and a dedicated, highly terrified steward standing by to serve their every need.
Caleb and the others immediately made themselves comfortable. As the train tore through the misty swamps and began its ascent into the rolling green hills of the Heartlands, they thoroughly enjoyed the premium drinks and some high quality snacks and hot food provided on the train.
The steward rushed to pour steaming, incredibly strong black coffee for Arthur and Hosea, alongside plates of sizzling cured bacon, fresh scrambled eggs, and warm, buttered pastries. The rich food and the caffeine slowly brought the color back to the two veteran outlaws' faces, completely curing their lingering hangovers.
Vincenzo and Silvio, sitting across the aisle, drank small cups of dark, bitter espresso, engaging in quiet, low volume tactical discussions regarding the supply lines they were about to inspect.
Caleb sat in a wide leather armchair by the window, sipping a glass of aged scotch despite the early hour, his max level Business Skill constantly running the complex logistical mathematics of the western expansion.
The train ride took a couple of hours. The scenery outside the thick glass windows shifted dramatically. The humid, suffocating swamps and the sprawling, flat green plains of New Hanover eventually gave way to the towering, jagged peaks and the dense, dark pine forests of the West Elizabeth mountains.
The air growing noticeably colder and crisper as the locomotive churned its way higher into the frontier.
Until, with a final, massive hiss of depressurizing steam and the loud screech of heavy iron brakes, they finally reached Riggs Station.
The train came to a complete halt. The doors were thrown open, and the crisp, pine scented mountain air flooded into the luxurious, cigar smoke filled cabin.
They stepped off the train onto the wooden platform of Riggs Station. It was a small, rugged outpost, surrounded by towering trees and the distant, rushing sound of the Dakota River. The few local ranchers and station workers standing on the platform stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes wide as they watched the Don of Saint Denis, flanked by his terrifying, suited mafia lieutenants and heavily armed capos, disembark from the luxury car.
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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: -