If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
...
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
When he received it and opened it, looking at the perfectly cooked food she had prepared with her own hands, Caleb smiled a deep, genuine smile of profound appreciation. "Thank you, Mary-Beth. It's perfect," he said softly.
He reached out, pulling her close by the waist, giving her a deep, passionate kiss. They kissed for a long moment on the porch, completely ignoring Charles and John who were politely pretending not to watch from the woodchopping block.
It was a kiss that promised a safe return, anchoring him before he rode back into the viper's nest.
Before then, Caleb said his final goodbyes to her after a last, tight hug. He stepped off the porch and walked over to where Morgan is. Caleb got on Morgan, adjusting his heavy coat and settling the food bag securely into his saddlebags.
With a final tip of his hat to Mary-Beth, Caleb rode out of the homestead.
He guided Morgan down the winding dirt path, leaving the sanctuary of the Heartlands behind, and went to ride back to Saint Denis. Heading southeast, he set a grueling, steady pace. He rode on the exact same path he was going to the homestead from Saint Denis days prior, tracing his way backward through the changing geography.
He rode past the dried riverbeds of Dewberry Creek, the temperature beginning to steadily rise as the elevation dropped. As he entered the dense, pine scented woods of Ringneck Creek, he felt his stomach rumble.
Reaching into his saddlebag, he ate one of the burgers and also ate one portion of the fries Mary-Beth had packed. Even though they had cooled slightly in the morning air, the flavors were spectacular.
The spice blend was perfect, the meat juicy, and the gesture behind the meal made it taste better than any five star dinner in the city.
Fortified by the food, he pushed Morgan harder. The crisp air of the Heartlands was soon swallowed entirely by the suffocating, humid grip of the swamps.
He navigated the treacherous, muddy tracks of Bayou Nwa, the thick Spanish moss hanging like spectral curtains from the cypress trees. The buzzing of cicadas and the distant, guttural roar of alligators accompanied his journey through the muck.
When the towering, smog belching smokestacks of the city's factories finally pierced the horizon, Caleb pulled his hat low.
When he finally reached back to Saint Denis, the sun was sitting high in the sky. It was already noon. The city was a chaotic symphony of clanging trolley cars, shouting merchants, and the heavy, metallic grind of industry.
He didn't stop in the city center. He immediately rode to his mansion in the wealthy, manicured northern part of the city. As he approached the grand, wrought iron gates of his sprawling Victorian estate, the armed mob guards standing watch immediately stood at attention, recognizing the dark horse and the terrifying silhouette of the Underboss.
When he arrived back there, they pulled the heavy gates open without a word. He rode entering into the gate, the sounds of the street instantly muffled by the thick stone walls of the courtyard. He brought Morgan to a halt near the grand marble steps and got down off Morgan.
Marco, the stable boy, immediately rushed forward. Caleb handed the reins, giving Morgan to the stable boy with a strict instruction to brush her down and feed her the premium oats, also give her some apples as well.
And then, Caleb turned and walked up the steps, his boots striking the marble with heavy, authoritative thuds. He entered into his mansion. The grand foyer was immaculate, smelling of expensive beeswax and fresh lilies.
His butler, Lorenzo, was standing at perfect attention in the hallway. The older man seamlessly opened the inner double door for him and bowed deeply, welcoming him back to the estate.
"Welcome home, Signor Thorne," Lorenzo greeted, his voice an absolute paragon of professional composure.
Caleb nodded his head at him, slipping off his dusty duster coat and handing it to a waiting maid. Before moving further into the house to pour himself a drink, he paused, asking Lorenzo, "Is there any news you would like to report, Lorenzo? How has the city fared in my absence?"
Lorenzo nodded his head, pulling a small, leather bound notebook from his breast pocket. "Yes, there is Signor, of course. The city fared okay of the information."
Lorenzo cleared his throat before reporting the most pressing matter. "But, in the past several days since your departure, Signor Bronte has come to visit personally with several of his high ranking men. He was quite insistent, asking if you have returned yet."
Caleb raised an eyebrow. Bronte visiting personally, rather than summoning Caleb to his own mansion, was a clear sign of the Don's growing paranoia and his increasing reliance on Caleb's strategic mind.
"He hasn't visited yet today, so maybe he will return this afternoon," Lorenzo added meticulously.
And exactly as Lorenzo says that, the heavy oak front doors of the mansion were pushed open. Suddenly, a guard from the outside courtyard came rushing inside. He stopped just short of Caleb, bowing his head respectfully, panting slightly.
He reported respectfully, "The Boss is here, and he would like to meet you immediately, Underboss."
Caleb, hearing that, felt a cold, predatory thrill race through his veins. The pieces were moving exactly as he had anticipated. He nodded his head, dismissing the guard, and turned to go outside to welcome Bronte.
He stepped out onto the marble porch, the midday sun beating down on the courtyard.
Angelo Bronte was stepping out of a luxurious, black lacquered carriage. He was flanked by four heavily armed, scarred capos who scanned Caleb's courtyard with nervous, twitchy eyes.
Bronte himself looked slightly more haggard than usual. The perfectly tailored silk suit he wore couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes or the frantic, greedy energy radiating from him. The war with Cornwall was clearly taking its toll on the Don's nerves.
But when Bronte saw Caleb standing on the steps, looking calm, rested, and utterly in control, the Don's tense posture relaxed significantly. Bronte smiled widely, spreading his arms in a gesture of grand affection.
"Ah! Il mio generale! He is finally back!" Bronte exclaimed loudly, stepping forward to clasp Caleb's hand in a firm grip.
He looked Caleb up and down, incredibly pleased to see his most lethal asset returned to the city. "How is it, my friend? How went the acquisition of the restaurant in the frontier mud town?"
He said all of that in his thick Italian accent, peppering his speech with Italian words as usual to assert his cultural dominance. "Tutto bene? Did you secure the investment for la famiglia? Tell me you brought back the recipe for those golden potatoes!"
Caleb engaged his Acting Skill, projecting an aura of complete loyalty and profound business success.
"Everything is perfect, Boss," Caleb smiled, shaking Bronte's hand warmly. "The restaurant is secured. The profits are already flowing directly into our ledgers. It was a very fruitful trip."
"Eccellente!" Bronte beamed, clapping Caleb on the shoulder. But the smile quickly faded, replaced by a dark, conspiratorial shadow as he leaned in closer. "It is good that you are back, McLaughlin. Molto bene. Because while you were gone playing businessman, the fat man Cornwall has gone completely mad. There's information that he is hiring more mercenaries. We have much work to do, you and I. Much blood to spill."
"Then let us go inside, Boss," Caleb said smoothly, gesturing toward the open doors of his mansion, inviting the spider into his own parlor. "I have a few new plans I think you will find incredibly... final."
Caleb brought Bronte and his men inside to the mansion, the heavy oak doors closing behind them and instantly muting the sounds of the bustling city outside.
The cool, marble floored interior of the estate was a stark contrast to the stifling humidity of the courtyard. The four scarred capos immediately fanned out slightly, their eyes scanning the opulent hallway, assessing the security of the Underboss's new domain.
As they stepped into the grand foyer, Caleb turned to speak to Lorenzo, who was standing at discreet attention near a large, gilded mirror.
Caleb gestured slightly with his hand, telling him, "Lorenzo, take the canvas bag of food that I brought with me just now from Morgan's saddlebags. Take it to the kitchen."
He lowered his voice slightly, issuing a command that pained him more than any physical wound. "Put each portion onto a silver plate after having it gently heated up by the cook, please. Ensure the presentation is flawless."
Lorenzo nodded his head at that, his expression betraying nothing of the unusual request. Saying, "Right away, Signor," the butler bowed sharply before then he left, disappearing down the servants' corridor with practiced silence.
While Caleb continued to lead Bronte and the others down the wide, carpeted hallway toward the dining room, Bronte, hearing what he said, stopped abruptly. The Don's eyes lit up with a gluttonous, eager spark.
He asked Caleb, laying a heavy, ringed hand on Caleb's arm, "Ah! Amico mio! Tell me... do you mean to say you have brought me the burgers and golden fries from that muddy little town?"
Caleb just nodded his head with a wide, manufactured smile. Saying, "Yes, I have brought it for you, Boss. Fresh from the source, kept as preserved as possible for the journey."
While he spoke those words with the utmost respect and eagerness to please his Don, inwardly he was incredibly reluctant and deeply angry to share it. Mary-Beth had made that food specifically for him, with her own hands, guided by Pearson in the quiet dawn of the Heartlands.
It was a token of her love, meant to sustain him on the long ride. But Bronte had come at a spectacularly bad time, intercepting him the moment he arrived. Caleb knew he had to play the game, he had to maintain his cover as the dutiful, wealth obsessed Underboss.
So he had to do what he had to do now, sacrificing a piece of his personal life to fuel the illusion he was projecting.
Arriving at the dining room, a massive, echoing space dominated by a long mahogany table that could seat thirty men, Caleb gestured gracefully. He had Bronte seat himself at the main seat at the head of the table, a position of absolute authority.
While he took the right seat, the traditional place of the trusted second in command. And the other men that Bronte brought with him, the heavily armed capos, took a seat as well, spreading out along the sides of the table, their hands resting near their holstered weapons.
Bronte leaned back in the ornate chair, steeppling his fingers. And Bronte then asked Caleb, his voice echoing slightly in the large room, how he managed to acquire the restaurant.
"And tell me," Bronte added, leaning forward with a greedy glint in his eye, "have you also brought their recipe back here to Saint Denis? We could open a dozen establishments serving this food to the high society. They would pay a fortune for the novelty."
Caleb, hearing that, shook his head slowly, adopting a look of calculating regret. Saying, "No, Boss. I didn't ask for the recipe."
Bronte's brow furrowed, a flash of genuine irritation crossing his face. "Why not? You had the leverage, did you not?"
"Because the owner was more than willing to have me... let's just say, acquire the business after several persuasive actions," Caleb explained, his tone smooth and laced with implied violence. "He was a stubborn man, proud of his craft. If I pushed for the recipe, he might have burned the place down rather than hand over his life's work. So, we reached a compromise. The restaurant belongs to me entirely. The profits flow to la famiglia. But in exchange, the recipe stayed there, securely locked in the heads of his cooks."
Caleb leaned forward, resting his forearms on the polished mahogany, looking directly into Bronte's eyes. "And don't worry, Boss. I have made sure also that the previous owner wouldn't make other restaurants by himself to compete with us. It will be me now as the new owner holding the deed. And as for the previous owner... I have him work for me now. He manages the floor. He knows if he steps out of line, the consequences will be... severe."
Hearing that, Bronte's irritation vanished instantly, replaced by a deep, rumbling laugh. He nodded his head slowly.
"Ah, it is a shame about the recipe," Bronte sighed dramatically, waving a hand. "But I loved hearing how you managed to convince the previous owner into handing over the business to you. Magnifico! To turn an enemy into a terrified employee... that is the true exercise of power."
Bronte smiled broadly, leaning back again. "Looks like you have adapted much better to your new position as the Underboss of this family than I could have ever hoped, McLaughlin. Guido was a rat with numbers, but you... you are a wolf."
Caleb smiled at that, a cold, empty expression that perfectly mirrored Bronte's expectations, thanking the boss for his high praise.
Where, exactly at this time, the heavy oak double doors to the dining room opened. Lorenzo, walking with impeccable posture, alongside the head cook, brought a silver cart tray inside the dining room. The aroma of savory beef, melted cheese, and seasoned potatoes instantly filled the room, making even the hardened capos turn their heads and swallow hard.
...
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 2)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 2)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 4)
- Bow (Lvl 3)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 4)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 3)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl 3)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 50x50x50)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl 2)
- Leadership (Lvl 2)
Money: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 275,992 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 70 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
Bank: -