If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
...
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Caleb paced slowly at the head of the table. "Anyone attempting to stake a claim in New York will inevitably be viewed as a threat by those already holding power. They will test us. They will attempt to intimidate us. Therefore, I need every single one of you, and every capo on this train, to remain fiercely disciplined. Stay alert. Be incredibly careful about who you trust, and do not draw your weapons unless I give the absolute order."
This was not framed as Caleb being afraid. The men in the room knew him far too well for that. They understood perfectly that New York simply required a different, more sophisticated kind of strategy. Brute force alone would not be enough, they needed to maneuver like phantoms before they struck like a hammer.
"You also need to understand our own visibility," Caleb pointed out, tapping his knuckles against the table. "We are not walking into New York as anonymous tourists. The name of the Thorne Trading Company has already begun spreading throughout the country. Our ownership stake in the Thorne-Marlin Firearm's Co. gives us immense prestige. The Vanguard rifles and the Sweeper submachine guns are attracting serious, high level interest from the United States military. We are currently several leaps ahead of Colt, Winchester, and Remington."
"They know we have the guns," John murmured, his dark eyes narrowing in understanding.
"And they know we have the capital," Caleb added. "News of the bicycle boom in Saint Denis is already making headlines in the northern financial papers. Even before we set foot in Manhattan, we have a name attached to radical innovation, advanced firearms, mass transportation, and staggering wealth."
Caleb stopped, looking at Vincenzo and Silvio. "That reputation is a double edged sword. It will open heavy, gilded doors for us. But it will also make certain, very dangerous people incredibly nervous. Be ready for anything."
The men nodded seriously, fully absorbing the gravity of their mission.
Caleb then turned his attention to Strauss, who was sitting quietly near the back of the car with his ever present ledger resting on his lap.
"Strauss," Caleb called out. "Before we left, I asked Antonio to use our intelligence network to gather information on a specific engineer. A man named Henry Ford, currently operating out of Michigan. What did you find?"
Strauss adjusted his spectacles, opening his ledger to a heavily bookmarked page.
"I have indeed investigated the matter, Don Thorne," Strauss reported, his Austrian accent crisp and precise. "Mr. Henry Ford is currently operating in Detroit. He is the chief engineer and a minority partner associated with a venture called the Detroit Automobile Company."
"And how is the company faring?" Caleb asked, a knowing glint in his eye.
"By all accounts, it is struggling severely, sir," Strauss read from his notes. "The financial backers are growing increasingly impatient. Ford is attempting to develop, refine, and manufacture a motorized vehicle known as an... automobile. However, the manufacturing process is incredibly slow, the costs are spiraling, and the concept itself remains entirely unfamiliar to the general public."
The word hung in the air of the train car.
Arthur furrowed his brow, looking at John. "An auto-what?"
"An automobile," Javier tested the word on his tongue, looking completely baffled. "What the hell is that? Is it a new kind of train?"
"It's a carriage, gentlemen," Caleb explained smoothly. "But it doesn't use a horse. It uses a small, internal combustion engine powered by refined petroleum to propel itself."
The Southerners exchanged highly curious, deeply skeptical looks. None of them had ever heard the term before, let alone seen one in person.
"A carriage without a horse?" Bill Williamson snorted, crossing his arms. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. What happens when it gets stuck in the mud? You can't exactly feed it an apple and tell it to pull harder."
"Sounds like a good way to blow yourself up, if you ask me," John muttered, shaking his head.
Caleb simply smiled. He didn't mock their disbelief. In 1900, the idea of a world without horses was practically science fiction. But Caleb already knew exactly what that strange, struggling invention represented, and he knew precisely how important, and how unfathomably lucrative, the technology was about to become.
The Detroit Automobile Company was destined to fail, Caleb knew that from his past life. Ford would be forced out, only to later revolutionize the world with the Model T.
But Caleb wasn't going to wait for the Model T. He was going to buy the revolution right now.
"It may sound ridiculous today, Bill," Caleb said quietly, the visionary CEO completely taking over. "But ten years ago, people said electricity in homes was a dangerous parlor trick. Now it lights our mansion. I see the automobile as the next massive, transformative industry in this country. It will do to long distance travel what the bicycle just did to the streets of Saint Denis."
Caleb turned his intense gaze back to his accountant.
"Strauss," Caleb instructed, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "I want you to draft a letter to Mr. Henry Ford immediately. Invite him to travel to New York to meet with me personally at the Waldorf-Astoria. Inform him that the Thorne Holding Company is highly interested in discussing a massive capital investment in his engineering work. I want to buy out the impatient backers currently holding him back, completely restructure his debt, and take a controlling position in his company."
Strauss didn't hesitate. He had learned long ago never to question the Don's financial instincts. "I will have the letter drafted and dispatched via priority telegraph at our next coal stop, sir. It will be waiting on his desk in Detroit by tomorrow morning."
The other men in the car reacted with varying degrees of curiosity and disbelief. Investing millions of dollars into Nikola Tesla's invisible wireless power was one thing, but throwing a fortune at a horseless carriage seemed like madness to the hardened outlaws. Yet, as they looked at Caleb's confident, terrifyingly composed smile, they kept their doubts to themselves. The man hadn't been wrong yet.
Following the strategic briefing, the men dispersed back to their posts, and Caleb returned to Mary-Beth.
More time passed as the train pushed steadily northeast. The landscape outside the reinforced windows began to change dramatically. The rolling, open forests and quiet farm towns gave way to sprawling, soot stained industrial outskirts. The sky grew thick with the smoke of a thousand factory chimneys, and the sheer density of the population outside their windows multiplied by the hour.
Despite the looming reality of the city, the honeymoon atmosphere inside the parlor car remained unbroken. Mary-Beth sat close to Caleb on the velvet sofa, her hand resting comfortably over his as they watched the urban sprawl thicken. They shared quiet dinners by lamplight, the exquisite food prepared by their private staff, enjoying the final, isolated hours of their cross country sanctuary.
Eventually, after several grueling but deeply rewarding days of travel, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks began to slow.
The train was finally arriving in New York.
As they rolled into the massive, cavernous darkness of the rail terminal, the sheer, staggering scale of the city immediately slammed into them. It was unlike anything they had ever experienced.
When the train came to a complete, hissing stop, Caleb took Mary-Beth's hand, and they stepped out onto the concrete platform alongside their heavily armed entourage.
The arrival was an overwhelming sensory assault. The noise was deafening, a chaotic, echoing symphony of shrieking steam whistles, shouting porters, grinding steel, and thousands of rushing footsteps. The air smelled of sulfur, hot iron, and the damp, pressing weight of millions of bodies. Looking out past the massive iron arches of the terminal, they could see the towering, impossible verticality of the New York skyline. Buildings stretched toward the heavens, casting long, deep shadows over the bustling, grid locked streets below.
Saint Denis was a beautiful, wealthy jewel of the South, but New York felt like an entirely different planet. It was enormous, incredibly fast moving, and undeniably intimidating. It made it abundantly clear that Caleb had entered a much larger, infinitely more complicated world.
Waiting for them on the bustling platform, standing beneath a flickering electric arc lamp, was a sharply dressed, impeccably groomed man holding a discreet placard bearing the Thorne crest.
As Caleb and Mary-Beth approached, flanked by the imposing, terrifying figures of Arthur, John, and the Italian capos, the man stepped forward, offering a crisp, highly respectful bow.
"Don Thorne. Madam Thorne," the man greeted them, his accent carrying the clipped, rapid cadence of a native New Yorker. "My name is Mr. Harrison. I am a trusted associate of Senator Pendleton. I have been instructed to receive you and guide you through the city during your initial arrival. Allow me to formally welcome you to New York."
"Thank you, Mr. Harrison," Caleb replied smoothly, his presence instantly dominating the space around them despite the chaos of the station. "Are our accommodations prepared?"
"They are, sir," Harrison confirmed, gesturing toward the exit. "I have arranged a fleet of private, secured carriages waiting just outside the terminal. They will transport you and your entire party directly to the Waldorf-Astoria."
Harrison turned and began leading the group through the massive crowds. The sea of New Yorkers instinctively parted as they caught sight of Caleb's tailored European suit and the incredibly dangerous, heavily armed men walking in a tight, disciplined diamond formation around him.
They emerged from the terminal into the crisp, biting cold of the New York streets. The carriages were waiting, their polished black lacquer reflecting the glow of the gas lamps.
As Caleb helped Mary-Beth into the plush interior of the lead carriage, he paused for a fraction of a second on the cobblestones. He looked up at the towering brick and steel skyscrapers, the bustling avenues choked with horse drawn cabs, and the distant, dark waters of the harbor.
Caleb quietly studied the city around him. A fierce, visionary fire burned in his chest. He realized, with absolute clarity, that this was the beginning of something monumental. Saint Denis had made him a king; it had made him wealthy and powerful. But New York... New York was the anvil upon which he would forge a national, and eventually international, empire. He would take this city, piece by piece, until the Thorne Holding Company was woven into the very bedrock of Manhattan.
But as he climbed into the carriage and the door clicked shut, shutting out the noise of the street, he looked at Mary-Beth. She was watching him, her dark eyes filled with trust and a quiet, thrilling excitement for the adventure ahead.
The ruthless CEO faded into the background. Caleb reached out, taking her gloved hand in his, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to her knuckles. He remembered exactly the promise he had made to her in the quiet of their Saint Denis bedroom.
He would conquer this city, he would secure Nikola Tesla, and he would build the future. But he made a conscious vow to himself right then and there, he would never allow this honeymoon to become nothing more than a business expedition. The carriages lurched forward, joining the massive flow of New York traffic.
The carriage ride from the bustling, smoke filled rail terminal did not take very long, but every second of it was a revelation. As the polished, black-lacquered carriages navigated the crowded, gas lit avenues of Manhattan, the sheer, imposing verticality of the city loomed over them. When the lead carriage finally rolled to a smooth halt, it was not in front of a simple high-society boarding house, but before the staggering, palatial entrance of the Waldorf-Astoria.
Caleb stepped down onto the pristine cobblestones, immediately turning to offer his hand to Mary-Beth. As she stepped out, adjusting the brim of her hat, the drivers and hotel porters seamlessly descended upon the convoy to unload their massive steamer trunks.
The rest of Caleb's traveling party, Vincenzo, Silvio, Arthur, John, Hosea, Strauss, and the heavily armed capos, filed out of their respective carriages, their sharp eyes instinctively scanning the chaotic flow of the New York street.
Harrison, the polished political representative sent by Senator Pendleton, stepped to the front of the group. "Right this way, Don Thorne. Madam Thorne."
Harrison guided them through the massive, gilded revolving doors, and the moment Caleb and the others stepped inside, the noise of the street was instantly replaced by the hushed, melodic hum of a string quartet playing in the lobby.
The scale and luxury of the hotel were absolutely breathtaking. The lobby was a cavernous masterpiece of imported Italian marble, towering Corinthian columns, and ceilings adorned with intricate, gold leaf frescoes. Massive electric chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a brilliant, warm light over the throngs of elegantly dressed aristocrats and tycoons mingling below.
Even Caleb, a man who had built a tycoon empire and resided in a sprawling Garden District mansion, was genuinely, profoundly impressed. He had never personally stayed in a luxury hotel of this staggering level. The fact that he was standing in the epicenter of Gilded Age New York, an era he had only ever read about in his past life, quietly added a surreal, deeply fascinating layer to his amazement.
Waiting for them at the center of the lobby, standing with perfect posture and wearing an immaculate morning coat, was the hotel manager.
"Mr. Thorne, Mrs. Thorne," Harrison said, stepping aside. "Allow me to introduce Mr. Sterling, the general manager of the Waldorf-Astoria."
"Welcome to New York, Mr. and Mrs. Thorne," the manager greeted them, his tone professional, highly polished, and deeply respectful. He bowed slightly. "It is an absolute honor to host you. I can confirm that the Presidential suite has been fully prepared for your arrival, precisely to your specifications."
"Thank you, Mr. Sterling," Caleb returned the greeting with a polite, charismatic smile. He glanced over his shoulder at the men fanning out behind him. "And the additional suites I reserved for my associates? Are they also prepared?"
"Immediately adjacent to your floor and fully serviced, sir," the manager assured him instantly. "Every room requested for your entourage is ready and waiting."
Mr. Sterling pulled a small, leather bound ledger from his coat. "Regarding the initial deposit for the suites, sir—"
Caleb didn't even let him finish the sentence. He simply waved his hand, dismissing the concern with the effortless, unbothered grace of a man whose wealth was absolute.
"Do not trouble yourself with deposits, Mr. Sterling," Caleb said smoothly. "Keep a running ledger of every expense, every meal, and every service my party requires. I will settle the entire bill in full prior to our departure."
The manager didn't argue for a fraction of a second. The tailored cut of Caleb's suit, the terrifying presence of the men behind him, and the sheer confidence in his voice were all the credit required. "Of course, Mr. Thorne. Everything is in perfect order. Please, allow me to escort you upstairs."
Leaving the capos and the rest of the gang to settle into their respective rooms, the manager personally guided Caleb and Mary-Beth to the private, gilded elevators. They ascended to the highest floor of the hotel, stepping out into a quiet, plush carpeted hallway. The manager unlocked a set of heavy, polished mahogany double doors and swung them open, stepping aside so the newlyweds could enter.
Mary-Beth stepped over the threshold, and a soft gasp of pure wonder escaped her lips.
The Presidential suite was nothing short of a palace suspended in the sky. It was massive, encompassing several sprawling, interconnected rooms adorned with deep crimson silk wallpaper and rich, dark walnut wainscoting. A sprawling sitting area dominated the center of the suite, featuring plush velvet chaises, a crackling marble fireplace, and an ornate crystal liquor cabinet.
Through a set of arched doorways lay the master bedroom, anchored by a massive, custom built fourposter bed draped in the finest imported Egyptian cotton and heavy silk quilts. The private en suite bathroom gleamed with polished brass fixtures, running hot water, and a massive, clawfoot porcelain soaking tub.
But the most breathtaking feature of the suite was the wall of towering, floor to ceiling windows that offered an entirely unobstructed, panoramic view of the New York skyline and the bustling avenues far below.
Mary-Beth walked slowly toward the glass, taking in the dizzying height and the endless sea of buildings. She was genuinely amazed, looking at everything with the bright, unfiltered excitement of someone who was seeing a world much, much larger than anything she had ever known before.
"It's... it's magnificent, Caleb," she breathed, resting her hand against the cool glass. "I feel like we're standing on top of the world."
"We are," Caleb smiled, watching her with a look of profound affection.
The bellboys arrived moments later, efficiently wheeling their steamer trunks into the dressing room. Once the staff had been tipped and dismissed, Caleb took over, handling the heavy luggage himself and making sure her dresses and his suits were properly put away in the massive cedar armoires.
Once the suite was organized, Caleb walked over to Mary-Beth, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind as they looked out over the city.
"Would you like to change your traveling clothes?" Caleb asked softly, kissing her shoulder. "We have the rest of the afternoon. Let's go outside and see New York properly for the first time."
"I would love nothing more," Mary-Beth agreed enthusiastically, turning in his arms with a radiant smile.
The two of them retreated to the dressing room, changing into clothing that was comfortable for walking, yet completely respectable for high society New York. Mary-Beth chose a beautiful, tailored walking dress of soft forest green, paired with a matching coat and a delicate hat. Caleb opted for a sharp, charcoal grey three piece suit and a heavy wool overcoat to combat the biting Northern wind.
...
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: -