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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"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.
After spending a few more moments catching up with Charles, the sun began to dip lower behind the snow capped peaks, casting long, golden shadows across the terraces. The tour was officially finished.
Strauss led Caleb, Mary-Beth, Arthur, and Hosea back inside to one of the private, velvet-lined executive lounges overlooking the valley. Antonio's counterpart at the hotel immediately served them crystal glasses of aged scotch and hot tea.
Caleb took a sip of his scotch, the rich, smoky liquid warming his chest. He looked at his chief accountant, deciding it was time to reveal the secondary purpose of their visit.
"You have built a masterpiece, Strauss," Caleb praised him, setting his glass down on a small mahogany table. "Which is exactly why I plan to hold my wedding right here at the hotel."
Strauss's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but before he could offer his congratulations again, Caleb elaborated on the strategic necessity of the event.
"It will not just be a private family gathering," Caleb explained, his tone shifting smoothly into the cadence of a corporate visionary. "It is going to serve as a massive, highly calculated promotional event. I have invited the absolute richest, most influential politicians, judges, and tycoons from Saint Denis and beyond."
Caleb gestured to the opulent room around them. "The idea is simple. We trap the high society of Lemoyne in absolute, undeniable luxury for a weekend. They will eat your food, sleep in your beds, and experience the sheer perfection of this establishment. By the time they return to the city, the guests themselves will spread the hotel's name to the rich tycoons and investors to the north and west. It is an aggressive, flawless marketing campaign, without me needing to spend a single dime on additional, traditional promotion."
Strauss listened to the strategy, his reaction a complex mix of deep, professional admiration and sudden, paternal concern. The Austrian accountant looked from the brilliant billionaire back to the beautiful woman sitting beside him.
"It is a brilliant corporate strategy, Don Thorne," Strauss admitted slowly, his brow furrowing as he carefully chose his words. "Truly, from a financial standpoint, it is flawless. But... forgive my intrusion. A wedding is a deeply personal, sacred day. Are you absolutely certain you truly want your and Miss Mary-Beth's most important day to be entangled as part of our corporate business ledgers?"
Arthur and Hosea looked at Caleb, sharing a similar, silent concern that perhaps the Don's insatiable ambition was beginning to overshadow his humanity.
But Caleb didn't bristle at the question. Instead, a warm, incredibly tender, and highly amused smile broke across his face. He reached out, gently taking Mary-Beth's hand in his own, interlacing their fingers.
Caleb looked at Strauss, entirely reassuring the older man.
"You do not need to worry about my priorities, Herr Strauss," Caleb chuckled softly, his eyes locked onto his fiancée with absolute, uncompromising adoration. "Because the genius of that corporate strategy didn't come from me. I was completely prepared to rent out a botanical garden and ignore the business entirely."
Caleb raised Mary-Beth's hand, kissing her knuckles gently.
"It was Mary-Beth herself who proposed the idea," Caleb revealed, pride radiating from every syllable. "She is the one who saw the potential to merge our perfect day with the future of this empire."
Strauss's jaw dropped slightly in sheer surprise. He looked at Mary-Beth, who simply offered a sweet, charmingly ruthless smile and took a delicate sip of her tea. Arthur let out a booming laugh, slapping his knee, while Hosea shook his head in a wonder.
In that rich moment, surrounded by the towering pines and the roaring fireplaces of their own luxury palace, Caleb knew with absolute certainty that he had secured everything he had ever fought for.
The business strategy settled, the atmosphere in the velvet-lined executive lounge shifted from intense corporate planning to a warm, triumphant ease. The sun had completely vanished behind the jagged, snow capped peaks of the Grizzlies, leaving the sprawling mountain valley bathed in the silvery light of a rising winter moon.
"Enough talk of ledgers and promotions for one afternoon," Caleb declared, setting his empty crystal scotch glass down on the mahogany table. He offered Mary-Beth his arm, pulling her gently to her feet. "Herr Strauss, you have promised us a culinary experience worthy of the elite. I believe it is time we put your newly hired chefs to the ultimate test."
Strauss beamed, his chest puffing out with pride. "Right this way, Don Thorne. I assure you, the kitchens have been preparing for your arrival since dawn."
Strauss led the group out of the lounge and down the grand, sweeping staircase toward the hotel's primary dining room. As the heavy mahogany double doors were pulled open by two uniformed waitstaff, even Arthur and Hosea, men who had spent their lives sleeping in the dirt and eating whatever they could hunt, were forced to stop and stare.
The dining room was a cinematic masterpiece of Gilded Age luxury. Massive, tiered crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted timber ceilings, casting a brilliant, warm electric glow over dozens of perfectly spaced tables. Each table was draped in heavy, immaculate white linen and set with polished silver cutlery and fine, imported bone china.
A massive stone fireplace dominated the far wall, roaring with a fire that kept the high altitude winter chill completely at bay.
They were seated at a grand, circular table near the floor to ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking view of the moonlit valley below.
The dinner that followed was nothing short of spectacular, but it bore the distinct, uncompromising signature of Caleb's personal tastes. While high society dining in 1899 was often characterized by tiny, delicate, overly complicated portions designed more for aesthetic presentation than actual sustenance, Caleb had explicitly ordered otherwise.
The food that the Parisian trained chefs brought out was undeniably elegant and crafted from the absolute highest quality ingredients, but the portions were massive, hearty, and deeply satisfying.
There were towering, thick cut slabs of perfectly roasted prime rib, aged to absolute perfection and dripping with rich, dark peppercorn demi glace. There were massive silver platters piled high with butter poached lobster tails shipped on ice from the coast, bowls of creamy, truffle infused whipped potatoes, and freshly baked artisan breads steaming in the cool air.
"Now this," Arthur Morgan rumbled, a look of sheer, unadulterated reverence on his scarred face as he sliced into a massive piece of prime rib, "this is a meal. I was half terrified they were going to bring us a single quail egg resting on a bed of fancy grass."
Hosea chuckled, raising his glass of deep red Bordeaux. "You can take the man out of the outlaw camp, but you cannot separate Arthur from his beef."
"It is absolutely exquisite, Herr Strauss," Mary-Beth praised, delicately cutting into a tender piece of roasted venison glazed in a blackberry reduction. "The flavors are incredibly rich. Your chefs are worth every penny you are paying them."
Strauss smiled warmly, raising his own glass. "Thank you, Miss Mary-Beth. We aim to ensure that our guests leave the dining room completely satisfied."
As the group ate, laughing and sharing stories in the warm, lively atmosphere of the dining room, Caleb sat back in his plush chair. He took a sip of his wine, his sharp blue eyes scanning the table. He watched Arthur happily devouring his second plate of prime rib, and then he looked at the massive, decadent spread of food remaining on the silver platters in the center of the table.
Suddenly, the visionary gears of Caleb's mind clicked into place. An idea, a concept plucked directly from hiw modern knowledge of the 20th century, sparked in his brain. It was an idea that would later become an absolute staple of the hospitality industry, but in 1900, it was entirely unheard of yet.
The buffet.
Caleb realized that with the sheer, monopolistic power of the Thorne Holding Company, he essentially owned the entire supply chain. He controlled the trains that transported the food, the lands that grew the produce, and the docks that brought in the seafood. Because he could source premium ingredients at a fraction of the cost his competitors paid, he could completely revolutionize the way wealthy patrons dined.
"Strauss," Caleb said suddenly, his voice cutting through the lighthearted banter at the table. The sharp, corporate edge had returned to his tone.
The Austrian accountant immediately set his fork down, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin. "Yes, Don Thorne?"
"I have a new concept for the dining operations of this hotel," Caleb began, leaning his forearms against the table. "A concept that I want implemented and refined by the time my wedding guests arrive next month."
Arthur and Hosea paused their eating, looking at Caleb with curious expressions.
"Currently, our chefs spend a massive amount of time and labor plating individual, delicate meals for every single patron," Caleb explained, mapping out the logistics. "It is slow, and it limits how many people we can feed at once. But what if we completely removed the individual plating process?"
"Removed it, sir?" Strauss frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "But how would the guests be served?"
"They would serve themselves," Caleb stated, a brilliant, highly ambitious smile crossing his face.
The entire table stared at him in complete, baffled surprise. The idea of wealthy, high society tycoons serving their own food was a radical, almost scandalous departure from the rigid etiquette of the era.
"Hear me out," Caleb continued, raising a hand to stall their doubts. "Imagine a massive, beautifully decorated set of long tables set up in the center of this room. We place massive, heated silver chafing dishes along the entire length. We fill them with huge, pre prepared portions of our absolute best food. Prime rib carving stations, towering displays of lobster, roasted fowls, and endless side dishes."
Caleb locked eyes with Strauss, knowing the accountant would understand the financial genius of the play.
"We charge a massive, premium price at the door. Let us say... twenty five to thirty five dollars a head," Caleb proposed. In the current year, that was an astronomical sum, the equivalent of a month's wages for a normal man. "And in exchange for that premium ticket, the patrons are allowed to eat absolutely as much as they want. All they can eat. But, we put a strict time limit on the table. One and a half hours."
"An all you can eat... time limited feast?" Arthur muttered, his green eyes widening as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept. "They would eat us out of house and home, Caleb. You'd go bankrupt in a week."
"No, Arthur, we wouldn't," Caleb smirked, looking directly at Strauss. "Tell him why, Herr Strauss."
Strauss didn't answer immediately. The Austrian accountant had already pulled a small, leather bound notebook and a fountain pen from the breast pocket of his suit. His eyes were wide behind his spectacles, darting rapidly back and forth as he began to calculate the raw numbers under his breath.
"Twenty five dollars a head... minus the cost of raw ingredients... but we own the freight lines, so transport is negligible... bulk preparation reduces the kitchen staff required by at least forty percent..." Strauss muttered frantically, the scratch of his fountain pen loud in the quiet space around their table.
For two full minutes, Strauss worked through the mathematics with a sharp, terrifying focus, his brain processing the sheer scale of the profit margins. Finally, he stopped writing. He slowly looked up from his notebook, his eyes practically glowing with unadulterated, capitalistic awe.
"Mein Gott," Strauss breathed, staring at Caleb as if the man had just invented fire. "It... it is brilliant. It is absolutely, undeniably brilliant."
"Explain it to the table, Strauss," Caleb invited smoothly.
"The profit margins would be staggering!" Strauss exclaimed, his usual composed demeanor completely cracking under the weight of his excitement. "Because we own the supply chains, our baseline cost for these premium ingredients is incredibly cheap compared to our rivals. By charging a flat thirty dollars, we immediately cover the cost of the food before the patron even takes their first bite!"
Strauss tapped his pen against the notebook. "Furthermore, the psychological trap is flawless. A wealthy tycoon will look at the massive spread of food and believe he is getting the better of the deal. He will attempt to eat thirty dollars' worth of prime rib and lobster. But the human stomach is a physical limitation! Especially within a strict ninety minute window! He will eat perhaps five dollars' worth of our wholesale product, become entirely full, and leave completely satisfied, feeling as though he lived like a king!"
"And because the food is prepared in massive, large batch portions," Caleb added, finishing the equation, "we drastically reduce the grueling labor and plating costs in the kitchen. We feed three times the amount of people, with half the staff, and quadruple the profit."
The table sat in stunned silence as the sheer brilliance of the concept washed over them. Arthur shook his head, letting out a low, impressed whistle, while Mary-Beth looked at her fiancé with a mixture of profound pride and sheer amusement.
"I knew you would understand the vision, Strauss," Caleb said, his voice ringing with deep satisfaction. "It is an incredibly good concept, and I want it to be the centerpiece of our hospitality operations. Work with the head chef. Refine the logistics, design the serving stations, and have the 'buffet' completely operational by the time the wedding guests arrive."
"It will be my absolute priority, Don Thorne," Strauss promised, already scribbling furiously in his notebook to begin drafting the floor plans.
With the billion dollar concept firmly established, the dinner transitioned back into a warm, celebratory evening. They drank, they laughed, and they enjoyed the absolute peak of mountain luxury.
By the time the grandfather clock in the lobby chimed eleven, the exhaustion of the long journey and the rich food finally caught up to them. The group bid each other goodnight and dispersed to their respective suites.
Caleb and Mary-Beth, naturally, were escorted to the Presidential Suite, located on the absolute highest floor of the complex.
When Caleb unlocked the heavy oak door and they stepped inside, even Mary-Beth, who had grown accustomed to the sprawling luxury of their Saint Denis mansion, was forced to catch her breath. The suite was extremely comfortable, elegantly designed, and unapologetically luxurious, perfectly matching the soaring standards of the rest of the hotel.
The walls were paneled in rich, dark mahogany, radiating a deep, natural warmth. A massive, roaring stone fireplace anchored the living space, casting a soft, flickering amber light over the thick, imported Persian rugs and the sprawling, plush velvet sofas. The air smelled of fresh mountain pine and expensive lavender.
Through a set of heavy glass double doors, a private, wraparound balcony offered an entirely unobstructed, panoramic view of the snow covered Grizzlies, the mountain peaks glowing like silver crowns under the brilliant winter moonlight.
But the centerpiece of the suite was the bedroom, dominated by an impossibly vast, four poster bed draped in the heaviest, softest white down quilts and authentic, luxurious bear-skin throws.
The atmosphere in the room was incredibly intimate, quiet, and profoundly calm.
Mary-Beth slipped off her traveling boots, walking over to the roaring fireplace with a contented sigh. The sheer silence of the mountain top was a stark contrast to the distant, never ending hum of carriages and factories in Saint Denis.
Caleb took off his suit jacket, tossing it over a chair, and walked up behind her. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest, resting his chin gently on the top of her head as they stared into the dancing flames.
"It is beautiful," Mary-Beth whispered, leaning into his solid warmth, her hands resting over his. "The hotel, the mountains, the quiet... all of it. You built a miracle out here, Caleb."
"We built it," Caleb corrected her softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "And we are going to be married right here. Under the open sky, surrounded by our family."
It felt like one of the last truly peaceful, quiet nights before the massive, chaotic storm of the wedding preparations would fully consume them.
They stood there in the firelight for a long time, simply holding each other, profoundly grateful for the safe harbor they had finally secured in a brutal world. Exhausted but entirely content, they eventually retired to the massive bed, tangling their limbs together beneath the heavy furs, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next morning, after a lavish breakfast of fresh mountain berries, cured meats, and hot coffee served in their suite, it was time to return to the heart of the empire.
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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: 2,772 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: -