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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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As Arthur asked that, Caleb turned around. He went to reach for the top right drawer of his massive mahogany table. He pulled a small, brass key from his vest pocket, inserted it into the lock, and turned it with a soft click. He put his hand in there and took out a slightly weathered, meticulously sealed envelope from his inventory. The thick, cream colored parchment bore a heavy, dark red wax seal stamped with an official, highly intricate governmental crest.
Caleb held the envelope up so the sunlight caught the wax. "I got this from Senator Pendleton in the past. It was during a massive, incredibly high stakes poker tournament held on the riverboat where I entered into it easily."
Caleb leaned back against the edge of his desk, telling a brilliant lie that it was a highly calculated trap he had set months ago.
"This was back when I was still playing the role of the loyal bounty hunter, actively currying good points with Angelo Bronte. Bronte had invited the Senator down to Saint Denis for a weekend of gambling and debauchery, trying to buy his political influence. The Senator sat at the high roller table. But Pendleton... well, Pendleton is a man with a severe, crippling addiction to the cards, and he possesses absolutely no skill to back it up."
Arthur let out a low, cynical chuckle, knowing exactly how that story usually ended.
"The man lost everything," Caleb explained, a dark, predatory smirk touching his lips. "He lost the cash he brought. He lost his markers. He was sweating through his expensive silk suit, staring down a massive, humiliating debt to some very dangerous men at the table. A debt that, if it became public knowledge, would have completely ruined his political career in Washington and sent him to prison for embezzling campaign funds to cover his losses."
Caleb tapped the sealed envelope against his palm. "Bronte was going to let him drown and then blackmail him. But I stepped in first. I played the benevolent savior. I lent him the money he sorely needed to cover the table. I paid off his markers in cash, right there on the riverboat, and I didn't ask for a single cent of interest in return."
Hosea's eyes widened, his brilliant mind instantly grasping the sheer, terrifying perfection of Caleb's psychological manipulation. "You bought his soul."
"Exactly," Caleb nodded. "In return for saving his entire life and his career, he wrote this. He promised to help me with one big favor in the future, whenever I decided to cash it in."
Caleb stepped forward and gave the letter directly to Arthur and Hosea to read. The two veteran outlaws eagerly crowded together. Arthur carefully broke the red wax seal, entirely ignoring the official crest, and pulled out the folded document.
The both of them opened the sealed envelope, and inside was a single piece of premium stationery containing a handwritten letter belonging entirely to the Senator.
Hosea adjusted his spectacles, his eyes scanning the frantic, deeply desperate cursive handwriting.
In the letter, Senator Pendleton explicitly wrote that he formally owes a life debt favor to the 'bounty hunter Mr. McLaughlin', who had generously lent him a massive sum of money which he sorely, desperately needed in an hour of personal crisis. The letter continued, stating that in return, the Senator has given his absolute, sworn word as a gentleman and a public servant to help Mr. McLaughlin with one big favor.
However, the Senator was a politician, which meant he was incredibly careful to leave himself a legal loophole. The final paragraph of the letter explicitly stated that he would grant whatever the favor was, as long as it was technically within his governmental power, and also that the execution of the favor absolutely doesn't put him in any big jeopardy that could lead him to be exposed, scandalized, or relinquished from his highly lucrative position as a United States Senator.
Arthur read the final line over Hosea's shoulder and let out a loud, booming laugh. "Listen to this slippery bastard. 'As long as it doesn't put me in jeopardy.' Politicians. They'll sell their own mothers, but they want a written guarantee they won't get caught doing it."
After reading the absolute, undeniable content of the letter, Hosea and Arthur looked up. They had a massive, incredibly wide smile on their faces. The heavy, suffocating burden of the last twenty years, the constant looking over their shoulders, the fear of seeing a Pinkerton badge shining in the dark, suddenly felt like it was finally, truly lifting.
This piece of paper was their salvation. It was the key to unlocking the cage Caleb had mentioned in the carriage.
Hosea handed the letter back to Caleb, his hands actually trembling slightly with pure, unadulterated relief. The patriarch then asked the most pressing, logistical question required to execute the plan.
"So, where is he?" Hosea asked, his eyes sharp. "Is this Senator Pendleton currently living at Saint Denis, or did he scurry back to the capital the moment he got his money?"
Caleb carefully folded the handwritten letter and slipped it back into the envelope. He shook his head slowly.
"I don't know exactly where he is sleeping tonight," Caleb admitted, his tone entirely unbothered by the lack of immediate location. "A man in his position moves frequently. He could be staying in a luxury suite in the French Quarter, or he could be up somewhere inspecting the populace and business monopolies, or he could have taken a train back to Washington."
Caleb walked back around his desk and placed the envelope safely onto the leather blotter. "But that is a minor obstacle. I can simply ask around. I own the docks, I own the mayor, and my men monitor every high end hotel registry in this city. We will find him. And if he currently lives out of this state, I will simply send a highly prioritized, secure letter directly to his office in the capital."
Both men, hearing the Don's absolute, unwavering confidence in his intelligence network, nodded their heads at that. The plan was flawless. It utilized leverage, capital, and the deeply ingrained corruption of the American political system.
Arthur stepped forward, his green eyes burning with a fierce, unbreakable loyalty. He looked at Caleb and says to him, "Whatever you need us to do to make this happen, Caleb. You just say the word. We will do whatever it takes to help. We'll track him down, we'll drag him back here, or we'll personally deliver the letter to Washington ourselves if we have to."
"Arthur is right," Hosea agreed firmly, tapping his cane on the floor. "You've given us a freedom, Caleb. Now let us help you secure this one. We are at your absolute disposal."
Caleb smiled, a profound, deeply affectionate warmth filling his chest. He loved these men. They were lethal, they were rugged, and their loyalty was something that simply could not be bought with gold.
"I appreciate that, brothers," Caleb said softly. "But for now, I just need you to manage the daily operations of the syndicate. I will handle the Senator. This requires a delicate touch before we apply the heavy pressure."
Caleb then turned his attention toward the heavy oak doors of the study. He didn't need to shout. He simply reached out and pulled the thick velvet cord hanging near the window, ringing the servant's bell connected directly to the staff quarters.
Within less than sixty seconds, he called for Antonio. The immaculate, hyper efficient head butler immediately knocked twice on the heavy wooden door.
"Enter," Caleb commanded.
The door opened smoothly, and Antonio stepped inside. He was impeccably dressed in his dark tailcoat and white gloves, his posture perfectly straight. He closed the door behind him and approached the mahogany desk, bowing his head in a display of absolute, flawless respect.
"You rang, Don McLaughlin," Antonio stated, his voice completely calm. He asked Caleb exactly what he needs respectfully, his eyes entirely ignoring the presence of the two rugged outlaws standing in the room.
Caleb picked up the wax sealed envelope from the desk, holding it loosely in his fingers. The gears of his empire were officially engaging.
"Antonio," Caleb ordered, his voice dropping into the cold, clinical, and highly precise cadence of the mob boss. "I have a priority target that needs to be located immediately. I want you to utilize the entire intelligence network of the family. The hotel registries, the bank tellers, the carriage drivers, and your contacts within Mayor Lemieux's administration."
Caleb leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "I need you to look for Senator Pendleton. He is the politician who came down here to participate in the high stakes poker tournament in the riverboat several months ago. He is a man with a severe gambling habit and expensive tastes."
Antonio nodded once, his mental catalog instantly logging the name and the specific parameters of the search.
"Understood, my Don. I will deploy the informants immediately. What are your specific instructions once his location is confirmed?"
Caleb laid out the two pronged strategy with ruthless clarity.
"First," Caleb instructed, raising a finger. "If he is currently living at Saint Denis, or if he is still lingering around here somewhere within the borders of Lemoyne, I want you to dispatch a polite but firm escort. Invite him to come directly to the mansion as soon as possible. Tell him that Don McLaughlin wishes to speak with him over a glass of fine brandy. Make sure he understands it is an invitation he cannot refuse."
"And if he has already departed our jurisdiction, sir?" Antonio inquired smoothly.
"If he isn't here," Caleb continued, his eyes darkening with absolute determination. "Then you are to immediately dispatch one of our most trusted, high level couriers. You will send a letter directly to his primary offices in Washington to invite him here. Since, after all, the man owes me quite a bit of a favor, and I have finally decided that I would like to call it in."
Caleb knew that Pendleton was a coward at heart. A sudden summons from a known mob boss would likely send the politician into a complete panic, potentially causing him to flee or attempt to invalidate the agreement out of sheer terror. Caleb needed to ensure the bait was far sweeter than the fear.
He added a crucial, highly manipulative caveat to the orders.
"When you draft the initial message, Antonio, or when your men speak to him," Caleb said, a dark, incredibly cunning smile crossing his face, "make absolutely sure to actively assure the man that the favor I am asking of him is purely administrative. Assure him, in no uncertain terms, that what I need will absolutely not jeopardize his position in the Senate. Tell him I merely need a stroke of his pen on some old paperwork."
Caleb leaned back, the trap perfectly, flawlessly set. "Once we have him sitting in that armchair across from my desk, and he realizes that I own the very air he breathes... then we will explain exactly what kind of paperwork he is going to sign."
Antonio bowed deeply, practically sweeping the floor with his flawless subservience. "It is a brilliant strategy, Don McLaughlin. The Senator will be located, and he will be delivered to your study. I shall begin the search at once."
With his orders received, Antonio turned on his heel and exited the study, pulling the heavy oak doors shut behind him with a soft click.
Arthur and Hosea looked at Caleb, the sheer magnitude of what was about to happen finally sinking in. They were outlaws who had spent their entire lives hiding in the mud, fighting for scraps, and bleeding in the snow.
And now, the man standing before them was casually reeling in a United States Senator like a fish on a hook, entirely prepared to rewrite the federal laws of the country just to ensure their freedom.
Hosea let out a long, shuddering breath, a tear of pure, overwhelming gratitude pricking the corner of his eye. He leaned heavily on his cane, looking at Caleb not just as a leader, but as an absolute savior.
"Caleb..." Hosea whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "If you actually pull this off. If you actually manage to wipe those bounties clean..."
"I will pull it off, Hosea," Caleb interrupted softly, his blue eyes burning with an unshakeable, absolute certainty. "You all stood by me when I had nothing. You trusted me when Dutch was leading us off a cliff. I promised you all a safe, golden future, and I am going to deliver it. You will never have to look over your shoulders again."
Arthur walked over to the desk. The massive, scarred enforcer didn't say a word. He just reached across the mahogany wood and gripped Caleb's hand in a bone crushing, fiercely loyal handshake. It was a silent vow of absolute brotherhood.
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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: 284,392 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: -