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Caleb studied him quietly. Arthur didn't look heartbroken, not fully, but he looked… conflicted. Haunted. Like old love had clawed at scars he thought were healed. Caleb put a hand on his shoulder. "You alright?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately. His eyes drifted somewhere distant.
Then. "…I ain't sure yet."
Caleb nodded with understanding.
There wasn't time to say more. People were shouting for help with the tents, the crates, the horses. Arthur went to park the wagon, and Caleb returned to the work, feeling the weight of the day pressing closer and closer.
By evening, the sky had turned a hazy orange. The camp was mostly packed, wagons loaded, horses saddled, weapons ready.
They would move out at nightfall.
Roanoke Valley awaited.
A darker world. A deeper forest. Closer to the Pinkertons than ever.
As Caleb lifted another crate, he caught sight of Mary-Beth sitting outside the mansion on a bench Karen and Tilly had dragged out, bundled in a shawl, looking much more comfortable. Her legs were crossed delicately, her cheeks had cooled from their earlier blush, and she watched him with a soft, longing smile.
Caleb's chest warmed.
He walked to her for a moment's rest.
"You holding up alright?"
She smiled. "Better now."
Her fingers brushed his hand.
Soft.
Warm.
Certain.
"You were really sweet this morning," she said softly. "Even with… everything."
He squeezed her hand. "Always will be."
They sat there for a brief, fragile minute in the fading light, letting the chaos of camp blur around them.
Then Hosea called from the wagons. "Alright everybody! Finish up whatever you're doing, we're movin' out soon!"
Caleb stood. Mary-Beth stood with him.
The world was shifting beneath their feet.
The gang was walking toward danger again.
But for the first time since Caleb arrived in this doomed timeline, something felt… possible.
Not safe.
Never safe.
But possible.
A different future.
A new path.
Roanoke Valley would be the next battleground in his fight to change fate.
And now, he wasn't walking into it alone.
Not anymore.
Mary-Beth slipped her hand into his.
"Ready?" she asked softly.
Caleb looked at her. At the gang. At Arthur, quietly loading his rifle. At Hosea, steady despite exhaustion. At Dutch, brooding and distant like a storm waiting to break.
He exhaled.
Then he nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's go."
The moment Caleb and Mary-Beth stepped away from that quiet, fleeting exchange of warmth beside the old bench, they were back in the churn of activity that came with uprooting a home the gang had only just begun to settle into.
The dying sun stained the world amber, and the shadows stretched long across the overgrown lawns of Shady Belle. Crates were still being tied down, blankets secured, rifles counted, food rations checked and rechecked. A few bodies moved sluggishly, tired from the long day; others worked with sharp, nervous energy, as if the coming night was pushing at their backs.
Mary-Beth stayed close to Caleb's side as they went from group to group. They helped Pearson secure the last few sacks of flour and coffee onto the supply wagon. They helped Javier and Lenny latch down the crates of ammunition.
Caleb stepped in to help Uncle, who was struggling to get his bedroll onto the wagon without knocking over three other things in the process. Mary-Beth carried smaller items, Arthur's spare lantern, Hosea's little bundle of books, Strauss's ledger, as if each was delicate glass.
Every so often, Caleb caught someone glancing at him and Mary-Beth together. Not with suspicion. With curiosity. With knowing. With a hint of amusement. Even Karen, leaning against the mansion doorway with a cigarette dangling from her lips, smirked when she saw them working side by side.
"Well ain't that a sight," Karen muttered as Caleb walked past. "Young love helpin' pack the place up."
Mary-Beth went red instantly. "Karen!"
Karen only laughed. Caleb shook his head, but he couldn't help the small smile tugging at him.
Everything came together piece by piece, wagon by wagon, load by load. By the time total darkness arrived, Shady Belle looked hollow, stripped, emptied out, almost ghostly compared to the bustling life it held hours ago. The moon hung pale behind drifting mist. Fireflies blinked across the swamp grass. The last echoing calls of birds faded away into the thickening night.
At last, everything was packed.
Caleb wiped his hands on his trousers, caught Hosea surveying the final preparations, and walked toward him. The old man was leaning slightly on the wagon frame, eyes sharper than his tired face let on.
"Hosea," Caleb said quietly, "I'll lead the caravan from the front on horseback. Scout the road ahead, make sure it's safe. I can track, stay ahead of trouble. We won't be walking blind."
Hosea studied him for a heartbeat, then gave a slow, approving nod. "That's smart. Good thinking." He tapped his finger against his temple. "Take Charles with you. Man sees more in a footprint than most men do in a fight. He'll keep danger off your blind spots."
Caleb accepted the suggestion immediately. "Of course."
He raised his voice slightly. "Charles!"
Charles lifted his head from where he'd been checking the straps on a saddle. He walked toward them with even strides, boots silent against the dirt.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Caleb explained everything: that he'd ride at the front, scouting and guiding the entire group to Roanoke Valley. That Hosea wanted Charles at his side. That they would be the eyes and ears of the whole gang.
Charles nodded once. "Alright. I'll ride with you."
Hosea reached out, patting both of their shoulders with quiet gravity. "Then the two of you are responsible for getting us there in one piece. Keep watch. Keep your wits. And as for Charles, he follow Caleb's lead on directions. He knows where we're headed."
Charles didn't question it. He merely dipped his head. "Understood."
Caleb smiled, reassuring. "We'll get everyone there safely."
He hoped he sounded confident. He hoped it wasn't a lie.
With that, he made for Morgan. The mare snorted and stomped, restless but eager, her breath steaming in the cold night air. Caleb stroked her muzzle, whispered calming words only she needed to hear, then swung into the saddle with fluid ease. Charles mounted his own horse, a sturdy, dark coated gelding, and settled beside him.
Behind them, Hosea began one last round of checks and orders. "Dutch, get seated! Bill, keep that wagon steady! Arthur, ready to move?"
Arthur flicked the reins, hearing the horses chuff. "Whenever you are, old man."
Dutch said nothing as he sat on the shotgun seat beside Bill, his face unreadable in the lantern light. Brooding. Pensive. Possibly thinking of the losses behind them, or the uncertain future ahead. Possibly thinking of nothing at all.
Finally, Hosea climbed onto the lead wagon next to Arthur. He raised a hand. "Alright! Let's get moving, Caleb! Lead the way!"
Caleb straightened, tightened his grip on the reins, and called back, "Got it!"
Then he turned Morgan northward.
Charles fell in on his right.
The caravan rumbled to life behind them, wood creaking, wheels grinding over dirt, horses snorting, people murmuring their last words to Shady Belle as it faded behind them. Lanterns swayed like small, moving stars.
They were leaving.
Again.
But this time the path might change.
Caleb led them away from Shady Belle, riding along the dark, marshy outskirts until the terrain leveled into the transitional woodland. His perception was tuned to the highest: the rustle of bushes, the distant croak of frogs, even the faint shifting of animals in the tall grass. Every sound mattered. Every shadow could hide a Pinkerton or a hungry bounty hunter.
They passed through Boulder Glade, following the northwest bend of the road. The trees thinned briefly, revealing the silent stretch of Scarlett Meadows. The moon cast silver light across the grass, shimmering like a lake.
Caleb kept glancing at his map interface, unseen by anyone but him, confirming their bearings, adjusting by degrees. He knew the game. The routes. The shortcuts. The danger spots. But translating game knowledge into real world navigation still required caution, a wrong turn in this world had consequences he couldn't reload.
When Dewberry Creek came into view, a ghostly ribbon of pale water glinting under moonlight, Caleb guided the caravan toward it.
"We'll use the creek bed for cover," Caleb said to Charles. "Off the main road, less chance of being spotted."
Charles nodded without hesitation. "Smart."
They rode down into the shallow banks, water splashing gently against the horses' hooves. The creek carved a winding path northeast, offering natural concealment from anyone scouting the roads above.
Caleb kept checking behind them, scanning for lanterns, shadows, anything unusual.
Nothing yet.
Good.
After a time, he pushed them up and out of the creek, cutting across a quiet plain. A soft breeze rustled the tall grass around them. The road came into sight again, and Caleb led the group back onto it briefly to adjust their trajectory.
Charles observed him, the certainty in his movements, the confidence of his directions, and finally asked the question Caleb had been hoping wouldn't come.
"How do you remember all this?"
Caleb stiffened just a fraction.
Charles continued, "You're riding like you've walked this land a hundred times. You know which trees to pass, which turns to take, which way to angle through the grass. Most folks need a map in their hand to do half of that. But you're doing it like memory."
Caleb scrambled inwardly. The truth was impossible to tell.
But he had Persuasion and Acting Skill, which he combined with his quick thinking.
He exhaled slowly. "It's… a secret that I have, really. I don't talk about it much." He paused, faking vulnerability. "Since I was little, I've been able to remember things. Everything I see. Everything I hear. Every detail."
Charles blinked. "Everything?"
"Everything," Caleb repeated, meeting his gaze. "Perfectly."
Charles stared at him with genuine surprise. "There's such a thing?"
Caleb shrugged lightly. "Believe it or not… that's how it is."
Charles processed this, then nodded. "Doesn't that become too much? To remember everything? Not just the good but… the bad as well?"
Caleb swallowed gently. "It is very hard. Happy memories are fine, as all of us definitely enjoyed the happy ones. But the dark ones? The ones that hurt? Those never fade. Not even a little. I just learned to be numb of those memories."
Charles went quiet. A different kind of respect settled in his eyes. "I'm sorry. That sounds… difficult."
Caleb smiled faintly. "It's nothing."
Inwardly, guilt tugged at his ribs, because Charles was being sincere, and Caleb was lying. But the system, his knowledge, the reason he was here, none of that could be shared. Not even with the people he cared about.
The road continued under their hooves, swallowed by darkness. Silence wrapped around them gently, broken only by the occasional chirp of crickets or the distant howl of an unseen predator.
Hours passed.
Finally, the Kamassa River appeared, wide, dark, whispering against its rocky shore. The moon hovered above it like a pale lantern.
Caleb led them north, keeping the river at their left. The terrain grew denser, filled with towering trees and thick brush. They stayed off the roads entirely now. Better concealed. Better protected.
Behind them, the caravan creaked on, slower but steady. The light from the lanterns bounced off tree trunks like fireflies.
They rode through most of the night, the forest canopy overhead deepening into a tunnel of shadows.
When dawn finally began to brighten the horizon, Caleb recognized the terrain ahead. A familiar hollow. A lake that he remembers from the game. Elysian Pool. The waters shimmered a muted green in the early light, mist drifting gently across the surface. It was quiet. Secluded. Safe enough for a brief rest.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 7/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 4)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 3)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 4)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 3)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 3)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 4)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,655 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 104,669 dollars and 72 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 64 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 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
Bank: -