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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Arthur squeezed Mary's hand, a single, silent tear escaping his eye as he realized that the nightmare was finally over. The billionaire empire, the factory, the absolute power, it all meant nothing compared to the woman sitting beside him, finally ready to share his golden future.
After the incredibly profound, emotional breakthrough that had just occurred, the atmosphere in the grand dining room felt lighter than it had in years. The heavy, suffocating ghosts of the past had finally been laid to rest. Mary, her eyes now shining with what remains of happy tears, stood up from the mahogany table, holding Arthur's massive hand in a grip that clearly communicated she was never going to let him go again.
Mary, Mary-Beth, and Arthur exchanged warm, deeply affectionate smiles before taking their leave of the dining room. Arthur gently guided Mary out into the grand hallway, eager to show her the sprawling winter gardens of the estate, while Mary-Beth walked beside them, the three of them chatting easily about the future.
Caleb stayed behind.
As the heavy oak doors clicked shut, the warm, empathetic smile on Caleb's face slowly faded, replaced instantly by the sharp, calculating, and ruthlessly intelligent mask of the Don of Saint Denis.
He didn't have to wait long. Less than a minute after the trio had departed, the side doors leading from the servant corridors swung open. Antonio, moving with his usual immaculate, silent grace, entered into the room. The head butler was carrying a thick, leather bound ledger and a stack of freshly printed telegraph transcripts.
"Don McLaughlin," Antonio greeted him, bowing respectfully before stepping up to the edge of the dining table. "I have the preliminary market reports you requested regarding the public launch of the Thorne-Marlin Arsenal."
"Sit, Antonio," Caleb commanded, gesturing to the chair Arthur had just vacated. He picked up his coffee cup, his blue eyes locking onto his chief logistical officer. "Tell me everything. How is the rollout proceeding?"
Antonio sat down, opening the heavy ledger. He reported with a tone of profound, unadulterated capitalistic triumph how the standard issue guns from the newly constructed factory had finally, officially entered into the public market here in Saint Denis and across the borders into the surrounding states of Lemoyne, New Hanover, and West Elizabeth.
"The rollout has been nothing short of an absolute phenomenon, sir," Antonio explained, tapping a column of rapidly rising numbers. "The authorized gunsmith stores, from the premium shops here in the city, all the way to the rugged outfitters in Valentine and Annesburg, all were very, very ecstatic in response to the opportunity to sell these new guns."
Antonio flipped a page, detailing the frantic telegrams they had received from the local merchants. "The gunsmiths are entirely intrigued by the technology itself. Our couriers reported that when the crates were opened, the shop owners spent hours just disassembling the weapons, absolutely mesmerized by the polygonal rifling of the Vanguard rifles and the flawless semi automatic mechanics of the Model 1 handguns. They have never seen anything like it. It makes their existing inventory look like crude, primitive clubs."
"And the sales?" Caleb asked, a dark, satisfied smirk touching his lips.
"The amount of orders is incredibly good," Antonio confirmed, his eyes wide with the sheer scale of the profits. "In fact, 'good' is an understatement. The moment the first few tycoons and bounty hunters bought the weapons and fired them at the local ranges, word spread like wildfire. The gunsmiths are completely selling out of their initial shipments within hours of the crates hitting the floor. They are already wiring us for triple the amount of inventory."
Antonio closed the ledger, looking at Caleb with absolute certainty. "I estimate that it wouldn't be long, perhaps a matter of weeks, until the new Thorne-Marlin guns will completely, utterly dominate the entire southern market. The increasing fame of the guns will drastically increase the sales even further. Due to the unparalleled quality and how advanced the engineering is, no other manufacturer can even attempt to compete. You have successfully monopolized the future of American firearms, Don McLaughlin."
Caleb nodded his head in deep, profound agreement with that assessment. It was exactly as he had planned. He had cornered the market on violence, and in a world built on the frontier, violence was the most valuable currency in existence.
But a monopoly was only as strong as the discipline of the men selling the product.
"Excellent," Caleb said softly, before his voice hardened into a cold, uncompromising warning. "But greed makes men foolish, Antonio. I want you to keep a very, very close eye on the shipping manifests and the regional distribution lines. Furthermore, make absolutely sure none of the independent gunsmiths dare to lie to us. If I find out a shop owner is hoarding inventory to create artificial scarcity, or if they are scalping the prices beyond our authorized profit margins, I want their supply immediately cut off. And if they complain, send Silvio to explain our corporate policies to them in person."
Hearing that ruthless directive, Antonio nodded his head immediately. "It shall be done, sir. The ledgers will be strictly audited, and any merchant found cheating the syndicate will be permanently dealt with."
With the industrial logistics perfectly secured, Caleb dismissed the butler and turned his mind entirely toward the impending war.
From that afternoon, a couple of days passed by in a state of quiet, highly disciplined mobilization within the Garden District mansion.
During this time, Mary Linton's life was completely, beautifully transformed. After her long talk with Arthur and Caleb, Mary had firmly decided to stay in Saint Denis with her family.
Of course, this transition had not been entirely without friction. Her prideful, notoriously difficult father, Mr. Gillis, had violently protested at first. When Arthur had showed up at their cheap boarding house to move them, the old drunk had started shouting, furious at the idea of taking charity from a man he considered a low life thug.
But Mr. Gillis's protests had managed to be thoroughly, completely subdued. Arthur hadn't shouted back. He had simply stepped into the cramped room, wearing his tailored suit and the heavy gold inlaid M1911 on his chest, accompanied by two massive Italian capos.
Arthur had looked the old man dead in the eye and calmly explained that they were moving to a premium, fully paid luxury townhouse in the wealthiest sector of the city, funded entirely by his executive salary. He told Mr. Gillis to pack his bags and enjoy the luxury, or he could stay in the slums and face the men he owed gambling debts to alone.
The old man, terrified by the sheer authority and wealth suddenly radiating from Arthur, had shut his mouth instantly and packed his bags. Mary was finally at peace, her family secure and her future with Arthur officially beginning.
While Arthur managed his new domestic bliss, the military vanguard of the Thorne syndicate was executing their mission flawlessly.
On the evening of the third day, the heavy iron gates of the estate swung open, and the scouting party finally arrived. John and Javier, alongside the several hand picked, elite capos who had accompanied them, returned back to the mansion.
They were covered in the red dust of Lemoyne, their horses lathered with sweat from the hard ride, but their eyes were sharp with vital, actionable intelligence.
Caleb was waiting for them in his second floor study, the massive topographical maps of Rhodes spread out across the mahogany desk. Vincenzo and Hosea were standing by as John and Javier entered the room, dusting off their heavy coats and accepting glasses of bourbon from the Underboss.
"Report," Caleb commanded, leaning over the map. "Tell me everything you have. I want to know exactly what the Grays are doing, what their troop movements look like, and why in the hell a family of arrogant tobacco farmers dared to hire a group of professional hitmen to try and assassinate the Don of Saint Denis."
John took a long pull of his bourbon, stepping up to the desk. He pointed a dirt stained finger at the sprawling perimeter of the Caliga Hall plantation.
"They are digging in, Caleb," John explained, his voice rough. "And it turns out, we found the exact reason why they suddenly grew a spine. Javier and I managed to slip past the outer patrols and get incredibly close to the main house. We found out that there's a group of unknown people who came down south to actively meet with the Grays in the Grays' plantation homestead."
Caleb's eyes narrowed. "Unknown people? Local gangs?"
"No," Javier shook his head, leaning against the bookcase. "Not locals. We watched them through our binoculars from the tree line. They arrived in heavily armored, custom built stagecoaches. They were wearing sharp, expensive city suits, bowler hats, and carrying briefcases. They looked like wealthy easterners. Wall Street types, or maybe fixers for some massive industrial conglomerate up in New York or Chicago."
"Did you hear what they were discussing?" Hosea asked, his brilliant mind already spinning the variables.
"Unfortunately, we couldn't get full information on what the exact conversation happening inside the parlor was," John admitted with a frustrated sigh. "They kept the windows shut and had guards posted at every door. But whatever those easterners offered the Grays, it completely emboldened them. Immediately after that meeting concluded and the suits rode off, the Grays made several massive, highly aggressive movements."
John began to mark the map with a charcoal pencil. "They instantly increased their patrols threefold. They are actively tightening the security in the town of Rhodes, throwing up checkpoints around the Grays' Plantation, and blockading several of the main red dirt roads that lead to the town and also to the plantation homestead. They've hired dozens of ex Confederate mercenaries to supplement their usual farmhands."
Hearing that, Caleb's brows furrowed deeply. A shadow fell over his handsome face as he stared at the map. The assassination attempt wasn't a drunken mistake, it was a highly funded, corporate sponsored decapitation strike.
He then looked up at his two best scouts, probing for more. He asked them if they hadn't found anything else that could explain the sheer influx of capital required to hire so many men.
John nodded, pulling a crumpled notepad from his vest. "I spent the last two nights sitting in the corner of the Rhodes parlor saloon, listening to the drunk guards talk. I heard that the town of Rhodes has suddenly been receiving a massive, seemingly endless amount of heavy building materials. Train cars full of steel, lumber, and specialized tools. They are bringing in hundreds of new workers, and massive amounts of money, which is all being directly handled by the Grays."
"To what end?" Vincenzo growled, his fists clenching. "Rhodes is a dust bowl."
"Not for long, apparently," John said, looking directly at Caleb. "The rumors in the saloon are that the Grays are using this new backing to rapidly develop Rhodes into a much, much bigger town. They are planning to build new factories, lay new railway spurs, and essentially build an industrial hub that could potentially rival Saint Denis through other corporate sectors."
The room fell completely silent as the absolute magnitude of the conspiracy was laid bare on the mahogany desk.
Caleb, who heard that, let out a slow, dark chuckle. The puzzle pieces snapped together with flawless, terrifying clarity. He didn't look angry, he looked like someone who knew his prediction was correct.
"It is true, then," Caleb immediately said, his voice a low, vibrating hum of absolute certainty. "There is a massive, incredibly wealthy group operating behind the Grays. Some eastern conglomerate, perhaps Leviticus Cornwall's surviving board of directors, or some rival steel monopoly, is trying to break my absolute control over the South. They knew they couldn't attack Saint Denis directly because my grip on the city is unbreakable. So, they found the Grays."
Caleb tapped the map of Caliga Hall. "The Grays are the perfect, disposable pawns. They hold the land, they control the local sheriff, and they possess the arrogant delusion that they are royalty. The big backers gave them the money, told them to build a rival city, and made them hire those hitmen to try and cut the head off the snake before I could stop their expansion."
"So, they used the Grays to fight a proxy war against us," Hosea nodded, a cold, calculating light in his eyes.
"Exactly," Caleb smiled, his blue eyes flashing with predatory supremacy. "But it is perfectly okay now. Because now that it is explicitly clear, we can move much, much easier."
Caleb stood up straight, his max level Leadership skill completely engaged. He looked at his lieutenants.
"By backing the Grays, this unknown group has tied their entire investment to the survival of that family," Caleb explained smoothly. "Which means we can easily anticipate the group behind the Grays to move, to panic, and to show their true hand exactly when we have done our move against the Grays and burned their investment to ash. We will cut the puppet strings, and then we will slaughter the puppeteers."
Caleb slammed his hand flat against the map, the sound cracking through the quiet study like a gunshot. The time for gathering intelligence was officially over. The time for war had arrived.
After that, Caleb turned to the men in the room, his voice ringing with the absolute, uncompromising authority of the Don.
"Rest up tonight, gentlemen. Clean your weapons and check your ammunition," Caleb commanded, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying fire. "Because tomorrow, we will ride to the Grays in full, overwhelming force."
"We are taking the entire vanguard?" Vincenzo asked, a vicious grin splitting his scarred face.
"We are taking sixty of our best capos, heavily armed with the Sweepers and the Vanguards," Caleb confirmed. "We will ride directly into Caliga Hall. I will personally talk with Tavish and Leigh Gray. I will look them in the eyes and tell them exactly what a mistake they have made. And then, before they can even draw a breath to apologize, we will begin taking over the town after officially declaring war against them. We will slaughter their guards, seize their armories, and burn their fields."
But Caleb Thorne did not just conquer with bullets; he conquered with the law. A true empire required paperwork to legitimize the blood spilled on the ground.
"And while we are securing the town with steel," Caleb continued, a brilliant, highly manipulative smile crossing his face, "of course, our favorite lawyer, Pierre, is already perfectly prepared to do battle in the courts."
Tilly's new sweetheart, Pierre, already prove himself that he is actually a brilliant, ruthless corporate attorney whom Caleb had increased his wages so that he stayed in the syndicate's payroll. "Pierre has drafted the necessary injunctions, foreclosures, and state mandates to launch a massive legal battle in taking over the physical deeds to the lands of both the Grays and the Braithwaites," Caleb explained, ensuring his lieutenants understood the grand strategy.
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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 Braithwaites Land Deed, 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: -