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!)
...
Caleb stood up straight, adjusting his tailored cuffs. "Find me the factories that can be easily taken over," he concluded, a dark, terrifying smirk crossing his handsome face. "Because the Thorne Holding Company is going into the transportation business. And we are going to own the streets by spring."
Hearing that order, Pierre nodded his head vigorously, his pen already flying across a fresh sheet of parchment to document the aggressive new mandate. He understood exactly what was expected of him.
"I will find the vulnerable factories and secure the patents as fast as possible, boss," Pierre promised, his voice tight with adrenaline. He carefully rolled the revolutionary bicycle schematics back into the leather tube, treating them as if they were made of solid gold. He then looked up, pushing his wire rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "Is there anything else I can do for you while I am at it? Any other industries you wish to conquer this week?"
Caleb paused halfway to the heavy frosted glass door. He turned back, the visionary, dangerously ambitious light flickering in his piercing blue eyes once again.
"Yes," Caleb said, walking slowly back toward the mahogany desk. "There is one more thing. I want you to look into something called 'automobiles.'"
Pierre blinked, his pen hovering over his notepad. "Automobiles, sir?"
"Horseless carriages powered by internal combustion engines," Caleb clarified smoothly, leaning his knuckles against the edge of the desk. "I want you to send your best, most discreet private investigators to Springfield, Massachusetts. Have them look into the operations of two brothers named Charles and J. Frank Duryea. Once that is done, I want another team sent to Detroit, Michigan, to check on a young engineer named Henry Ford."
Pierre frowned, completely baffled. In 1899, the vast majority of the country had never even heard of these men, let alone the noisy, smoke belching contraptions they were attempting to build in dirty brick workshops. "I confess, Don Thorne, I have never heard of them, nor of this specific... automobile industry."
"You will," Caleb assured him, his voice carrying the heavy, prophetic weight of a man who knew exactly how the 20th century was going to unfold. "I want your people to thoroughly investigate these separate groups. Find out exactly what they are doing, how far along their prototypes are, and how desperately they need capital. Because they will need capital to scale their production."
Caleb stood up straight, adjusting his tailored cuffs. "When your men make contact, I want these inventors to be informed that I am highly interested in investing in their life's work. Tell them I am prepared to inject hundreds of thousands of dollars in liquid cash directly into their businesses, under one strict condition, I am made a major, controlling shareholder in their respective companies."
Pierre's eyes widened at the sheer, staggering amount of money Caleb was casually proposing to throw at an unproven, eccentric novelty.
"However," Caleb added, ensuring the psychological trap was set perfectly, "make it explicitly clear to them that I do not want to compete for the position of boss or the title of owner of their company. I do not want to design the engines, and I do not want my name on their factories. I simply want to be the silent, majority financial backer that allows them to change the world. It will lower their defenses. They get to keep their pride, and we get to own the future of American transit."
Pierre, though still struggling to comprehend why the Don of the Southern underworld wanted to invest a fortune into mechanical wagons, was far too smart to argue. Since the boss asked for it, and since the boss had just conquered the entire state of Lemoyne in less than a week, Pierre simply nodded his head.
"I agree to go and look into it immediately, Don Thorne," Pierre said, writing the names Duryea and Ford down with heavily underlined strokes. "The investigators will be on the first trains north tomorrow."
"Excellent," Caleb said softly.
With his corporate chess pieces perfectly positioned, Caleb turned and finally left the bustling law firm. He walked down the carpeted stairs and exited out into the freezing, smog choked air of Saint Denis. He climbed back into his luxurious, black lacquered carriage, signaling for Silvio to head back to the Garden District.
As the carriage rolled through the cobblestone streets, the cold, calculating CEO faded away, and Caleb's thoughts shifted entirely to the woman waiting for him.
Arriving back at the sprawling, heavily guarded mansion, Caleb immediately sought out Mary-Beth. He found her in the sunlit, glass enclosed conservatory at the rear of the estate, surrounded by blooming winter orchids and an absolute mountain of fabric swatches, floral catalogs, and catering menus.
He took off his suit jacket, draped it over a wicker chair, and sat down beside her on the plush velvet sofa. For the next several hours, the billionaire warlord completely lost himself in the warm, personal, and incredibly important task of preparing for his wedding.
It was a profound, deeply emotional shift for Caleb. He sat close to her, their shoulders touching, as they went through the wedding plans in painstaking detail. They debated the cake for nearly twenty minutes, finally settling on a towering, four tier confection of light vanilla sponge, tart lemon curd, and rich vanilla buttercream, to be elegantly decorated with sugar spun mountain wildflowers that would match the rugged aesthetic of Strawberry.
Then came the attire. Mary-Beth's eyes sparkled as she showed him the sketches the Parisian seamstresses had sent over. She had chosen a breathtaking, ivory silk gown adorned with delicate, imported French lace. It was elegant, sophisticated, and completely devoid of the restrictive, suffocating corsetry of the era, it was a dress meant for a woman who was free.
Caleb, in turn, decided on a bespoke, three piece worsted wool suit in a deep, striking navy blue, paired with a silver silk tie and a matching pocket square.
They discussed the decorations, hundreds of pure white roses, hanging glass lanterns, and miles of delicate silk ribbons to be strung through the pine trees surrounding the hotel. They finalized a decadent feast for their guests, fresh oysters shipped on ice from the coast, perfectly roasted venison, butter poached lobster, and endless towers of imported European cheeses.
As Caleb sat there, listening to Mary-Beth's soft, excited voice describing the floral arrangements, a profound sense of warmth and gravity settled over his heart. He looked at her dark hair, her bright eyes, and the flawless emerald resting on her left hand. He realized just how incredibly serious and vital this moment was in his life.
The guns, the patents, the land deeds, they were all just tools. This woman, and this wedding, was the actual masterpiece he had been fighting for. He was entirely, unashamedly devoted to making this the most beautiful day of her life.
The next morning, the crisp, freezing winter air hung heavy over the Saint Denis rail yards.
Caleb had chartered a private, incredibly luxurious Pullman train car for their journey west. The exterior of the heavy steel car was polished to a mirror shine, guarded heavily by the syndicate's men.
Caleb brought Mary-Beth, Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews, Vincenzo, Silvio, and several of his most elite, heavily scarred Italian capos to board the train. The contrast between the violent, heavily armed men and the plush, velvet-lined interior of the private train car was staggering, but they all settled in with a sense of victorious camaraderie.
The steam whistle shrieked, and the massive locomotive lurched forward, pulling them out of the smog-choked city. They traveled across the diverse, sprawling landscape of the state they now legally owned. They watched the alligator infested swamps of the Bayou Nwa slowly give way to the red dirt tobacco fields of Scarlett Meadows, before the land finally began to rise, transitioning into the rugged, pine covered foothills of West Elizabeth.
After several hours of luxurious travel, drinking hot coffee and fine bourbon, the train hissed to a halt at the nearest station, Riggs Station.
Waiting for them on the wooden platform was a fleet of heavy, reinforced, and highly polished carriages that Caleb had ordered in advance. The group transferred their luggage and their weapons, climbing into the carriages to continue the final leg of the journey up the steep, winding mountain passes to the town of Strawberry.
As the carriages rolled over the wooden bridges and into the picturesque, snow dusted mountain valley, the sheer scale of Caleb's investment finally came into view.
Looming majestically over the small logging town, built seamlessly into the rocky cliffs and towering pine trees, was the fully furnished luxury hotel complex. It was an architectural marvel of massive, hewn stone, dark timber, and glittering glass windows that caught the afternoon sun.
When the carriages pulled up the sweeping, crushed stone driveway and came to a halt beneath the grand, timber framed portico, Herr Strauss was already waiting for them.
The Austrian accountant looked completely transformed. He wasn't the nervous, sickly loan shark hiding in the mud of a desperate camp anymore. He was wearing a sharp, immaculate three piece suit, his posture straight, practically glowing with the pride of a man who had successfully managed a multi hundreds of thousands of dollar construction project.
As Caleb stepped out of the carriage and helped Mary-Beth down, Strauss stepped forward, a wide, genuine smile on his face. He shook hands firmly with Caleb, Arthur, and Hosea, the mutual respect between the men palpable.
"Don Thorne," Strauss beamed, his Austrian accent thick with joy. "Welcome to your crown jewel. And please, allow me to offer my most profound congratulations to you and Miss Mary-Beth on your engagement. The news reached us via the telegraph, and the entire staff was thrilled."
"Thank you, Strauss," Caleb smiled warmly, clapping the accountant on the shoulder. "It looks magnificent from the outside. Let's see what you've done with the interior."
Strauss eagerly turned and led the group through the massive, heavy oak double doors, taking them on a comprehensive tour of the hotel.
If the exterior was impressive, the interior was an absolute, breathtaking masterpiece. During the construction phase, it had looked promising, but now, fully furnished and operational, it felt truly alive. The grand lobby was a cavernous space anchored by a massive, roaring stone fireplace that stretched three stories high. The floors were covered in thick, plush, deeply crimson European carpets that completely silenced their footsteps.
What made the atmosphere feel impossibly rich and polished was the integration of modern technology with rugged mountain luxury. Thanks to the private hydroelectric dam Caleb had funded, the hotel was blazing with brilliant, warm electric lighting from massive crystal and brass chandeliers, a luxury almost unheard of outside the major eastern cities.
Strauss led them through the opulent, velvet-draped dining rooms, set with fine bone china and imported crystal glasses. He showed them the sprawling, mahogany paneled smoking lounges, the indoor heated bathing pools, and the massive, luxurious guest suites featuring running hot water, brass fixtures, and private balconies overlooking the breathtaking valley below.
Mary-Beth walked through the corridors in a state of absolute, wide eyed wonder, her hand tightly gripping Caleb's arm. Arthur and Hosea trailed behind, exchanging looks of sheer disbelief. The sheer elegance, the polished wood, the smell of expensive beeswax and fresh pine, it was a palace of immense, undeniable promise.
After touring the luxurious interior, Strauss led them out through the back terraces to show them the sprawling, meticulously curated exterior grounds.
"And here, gentlemen," Strauss said proudly, gesturing toward a heavily forested, sprawling tract of pristine mountain land that backed up against a rushing river, "is where the premium wildlife hunting activity will be held for our most exclusive guests."
Standing near the edge of the tree line, examining the tracks in the snow and ensuring the perimeter was entirely secure, was Charles Smith.
The stoic, incredibly skilled hunter turned as the group approached. He was dressed warmly in heavy furs and leather, a custom bow slung across his back and a newly issued Vanguard rifle resting easily in his hands. He looked perfectly at peace in the wilderness.
Caleb had specifically assigned Charles there, not only because he knew Charles possessed an unmatched, near supernatural knowledge of the land and could offer the best guidance to the wealthy guests, but also because Caleb needed a man he could trust implicitly.
Charles would ensure the rich tycoons respected the environment and didn't just slaughter the wildlife blindly. Furthermore, Charles's presence guaranteed that Caleb had a lethal, highly observant set of eyes helping Strauss keep a tight watch on the hotel and the surrounding hundreds of acres of land.
Charles walked over, a rare, warm smile breaking across his stoic features as he saw his family. He shook Caleb's hand with a firm, strong grip.
"It is good to see you, Caleb," Charles greeted him, his deep voice calm and grounding. "Congratulations on the engagement. Mary-Beth, you look very happy."
"I am, Charles. It is so wonderful to see you," Mary-Beth beamed.
"How are the grounds looking, Charles?" Caleb asked, crossing his arms and looking out into the dense timber.
"The area is completely safe," Charles reported, his tone radiating quiet competence. "The game is incredibly plentiful this season, elk, deer, and even a few bear further up the ridge. I have mapped out the safest trails for the guests, and I have set up the hunting blinds. No one will wander off, and no poachers will dare cross our property lines."
"I knew I could count on you," Caleb said, his voice filled with genuine, profound trust. "You are the warden of this mountain, Charles. Whatever you need to keep it secure, you just send a wire to Saint Denis, and it is yours." Charles nodded in acknowledgment, fully understanding the growing importance of the hotel to Caleb's larger, nationwide plans. It was the linchpin of their legitimate empire, and Charles was honored to be its protector.
...
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: 2,772 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 283,392 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 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 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: -