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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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He pulled out the stacks of cash and dropped them onto the polished mahogany counter with a heavy, highly authoritative thud. Charles stared at the mountain of cash, his eyes bugging out of his head. He quickly counted the bands. Seeing this, Charles immediately began to panic, thinking he had somehow offended the Don by giving a discount.
"Don McLaughlin! S-Sir, please!" Charles stammered, pushing some of the money back toward Caleb. "You have given me thirty five hundred dollars! That is far too much! The bill is only eighteen hundred! I cannot possibly accept this! You have overpaid!"
But Caleb magnanimously raised a hand, stopping the tailor's frantic protests with a calm, absolute gesture.
Caleb says, his voice carrying the calm, reasonable, yet utterly unshakeable tone of a true king, that he is paying the fair market value.
"Keep it, Charles," Caleb instructed smoothly, looking the terrified tailor dead in the eye. "I am a businessman, just like you. I know exactly what imported French velvet costs. I know what it costs to keep your seamstresses working until dawn. I am paying you the fair market value for your exceptional goods and your expedited labor."
Caleb leaned in slightly, his Max Level Persuasion and Business Skills blending into a devastatingly effective diplomatic maneuver. He let the tailor know that he wasn't a fool to be manipulated, but a patron to be respected.
"I know exactly what you are trying to do, Charles," Caleb said softly, a knowing smirk touching his lips. "You are trying to curry favor. You are expecting me to operate like the old regime, to bleed you dry and demand tribute in the form of free silk."
Caleb patted the stack of bills. "I am extremely grateful for the gesture of loyalty, Charles. Truly, I am. But I do not need that. I do not need to steal from my own city to clothe my Madam. You run a legitimate, highly respected business. You provide a flawless service, and under my administration, exceptional service will always be met with exceptional, fully compensated payment. We are partners in the prosperity of this city, not enemies."
Charles, hearing that profound, earth shattering declaration of fair commerce, was completely stunned. The philosophy was so entirely alien to the way the Italian mafia had operated for the last decade that it took a moment for his brain to process it.
When it finally sank in, Charles nodded his head, profound relief and genuine, unadulterated respect flooding his system.
"Thank you... Thank you, Don McLaughlin!" Charles gasped, tears of genuine relief pricking his eyes. "You are... you are incredibly generous! I apologize for the presumption! I will have my staff work through the night! The coronation gown will be delivered to the estate by first light, perfectly altered!"
Caleb nodded his head when he heard that and also waved his hand dismissively, "Think nothing of it, Charles. Just ensure the stitching is flawless."
The financial transaction complete, the logistics of transport were initiated. Caleb turned and snapped his fingers toward the front doors.
Silvio and the guards immediately stepped deeper into the shop, where. Caleb had them to bring the massive haul of dresses, the heavy hat boxes, and the elegant gowns alongside their myriad of accessories that could be brought now, to be put directly inside the carriage.
The heavily armed mobsters looked slightly ridiculous carrying delicate pink parasols and silk shoeboxes, but they handled the Madam's property with terrified reverence, loading the carriage until the plush velvet interior was practically overflowing with high fashion.
After that's entirely done, Caleb offered Mary-Beth his arm once more. Mary-Beth, clutching a small, beautiful velvet reticule she had absolutely fallen in love with, linked her arm through his, her face glowing with pure happiness.
"Until tomorrow, Monsieur De Coursey," Caleb nodded.
"A pleasure, Charles," Mary-Beth beamed, perfectly playing the role of the gracious aristocrat.
They left the tailor store, stepping back out into the cooling evening air of the commercial square, and boarded the black-lacquered carriage once again, Antonio closing the door behind them and taking his seat.
The guards mounted their horses, the driver cracked the whip, and the heavy carriage rolled away, heading back toward the fortress of the Garden District to prepare for the massive banquet.
Back inside the quiet, opulent sanctuary of the tailor shop, Charles De Coursey stood behind his mahogany counter, staring down at the thirty five hundred dollars in crisp cash.
As the heavy rumble of the carriage wheels faded into the distance, Charles began to feel a profound, fundamental shift in his understanding of the city's power dynamics.
He realized that the new Don is, at the very least, incredibly "reasonable." It was a terrifying realization, but also a deeply comforting one. The new Don was undeniably dangerous, the aura of absolute violence surrounding him and his men was suffocating, but he did not abuse his power indiscriminately. He didn't just smash things and take what he wanted like a brute.
Charles realized that there is a way to genuinely talk to him. As long as you are honest, as long as you provide genuine value and do not try to deceive him, the new Don operated like a highly logical, extremely wealthy corporate tycoon.
Charles scooped up the stacks of cash, a massive, genuine smile breaking across his face. He felt a deep, urgent responsibility to his fellow merchants. He felt this profound realization should be shared to the other business leaders in the commercial district immediately. He needed to talk to the jewelers, the bank managers, and the shipping foremen.
He needed to tell them so that they knew the new Don could be negotiated with. They needed to know that as long as they are absolutely honest, transparent, and respectful, they could thrive under this new regime.
Unlike with Angelo Bronte, who ruled through unpredictable terror and arbitrary extortion, Don McLaughlin ruled through absolute, terrifying fairness. The era of starving under the mafia's boot was over, and maybe the era of highly profitable, strictly regulated corporate loyalty had officially come upon them.
Meanwhile, back to Caleb and Mary-Beth, the atmosphere on the inside of the carriage was completely intoxicating. The tension and the underlying threat of violence that usually accompanied a mafia Don's movements had entirely evaporated, replaced by a pure, unadulterated domestic bliss.
Mary-Beth was practically glowing. She leaned back against the plush velvet cushions, humming a happy, lighthearted tune that she had heard an accordion player playing on the streets of Valentine weeks ago.
She couldn't stop looking at the towering stacks of elegant, striped hat boxes and crisp, white clothing parcels stacked meticulously around her on the opposing seats. They completely filled the available space, creating a fortress of high fashion.
She looked at the boxes around her, which were filled with the spectacular stuff that she had just bought. Well, technically, Caleb had bought them for her, and she had just chosen which ones she liked. But the sheer volume of the purchase, the rustling tissue paper, the scent of fresh silk, and the weight of the expensive jewelry, made her feel like royalty. She ran her gloved fingers lightly over the top of a particularly large hat box, a dreamy, completely contented smile fixed on her beautiful face.
Caleb watched her, his heart swelling with a profound, deep seated satisfaction. He leaned back, shifting slightly to reach into his vest pocket, and pulled out his heavy, gold pocket watch. He popped the engraved lid open with a soft click. Caleb meanwhile looked at the time, his sharp mind immediately calculating the remaining logistics of the day. And it's already 5:30 PM.
The sun was beginning its final descent toward the western horizon, and the heavy, humid heat of the Louisiana afternoon was finally starting to break. The grueling, hours long fitting at the tailor had taken up the majority of their time.
It was time for them to have dinner and rest. The massive, high stakes political banquet was looming the very next day, and they both needed their stamina at absolute peak levels.
And so, he closed the gold watch, sliding it back into his pocket, and turned his attention to the head butler sitting quietly across from them amidst the towering wall of shoeboxes.
"Antonio," Caleb instructed smoothly, his voice a low, commanding rumble that effortlessly cut through Mary-Beth's happy humming. "Tell the driver to take the most direct route back to the Garden District. We don't need to drive around the city for a scenic tour this evening."
Caleb reached over, gently taking Mary-Beth's hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We can continue the trip around town tomorrow, or whenever you wish, sweetheart. But tonight, we need to eat and we need to rest. Tomorrow is going to be incredibly demanding."
Antonio nodded his head swiftly, accepting the logistical command with his usual, flawless grace. "A wise decision, Don McLaughlin. The kitchens are already preparing a substantial evening meal for your return."
As he then goes to tell the driver through the small sliding wooden compartment behind the driver's box, conveying the specific routing instructions to avoid the evening rush hour traffic, Mary-Beth simply leaned her head against Caleb's broad shoulder. She doesn't care much about ending the tour early, as she is already very, very happy.
The dizzying heights of the tailor shop and the overwhelming generosity he had shown her were more than enough excitement for one day. She closed her eyes, letting the gentle rocking motion of the carriage soothe her.
So the carriage was driven back through the winding, increasingly quiet streets of the wealthy northern sectors, bypassing the smog and the noise of the docks, heading directly to the mansion.
When the imposing, high stone walls of the estate finally came into view, the perimeter guards were already on high alert. The heavy wrought iron gate immediately opened when they saw the black lacquered carriage approaching, the guards snapping sharp salutes as the four white horses trotted through the entrance.
And then, after Silvio and the four heavily armed perimeter guards entered into the courtyard, their dark bay horses practically prancing with nervous energy, the gate was quickly closed behind them. The loud, definitive clank of the iron locking mechanism engaging signaled that the Don was safely back inside his fortress.
The carriage ground to a smooth halt near the sweeping marble steps of the main entrance.
Then the door for the carriage opened from the outside by the driver. Antonio came down first, stepping smoothly onto the pristine crushed white gravel. The butler immediately turned and stood at attention, ready to assist.
He was followed by Caleb, who stepped down with the effortless, powerful grace of a seasoned gunslinger. Caleb immediately turned back toward the cabin.
He extended his strong hand for Mary-Beth to use, offering her a solid anchor so that she could step down from the high carriage step safely in her heavy velvet traveling skirts. She took his hand, stepping down lightly, her cheeks flushed with the lingering excitement of the afternoon.
And after that, the real work began. Silvio, slinging his repeating shotgun securely over his massive back, and the four elite guards immediately swarmed the carriage.
They took out the massive haul of boxes from the carriage, working with synchronized, terrifyingly efficient precision.
They hauled the heavy hat boxes, the thick clothing parcels, and the delicate jewelry cases, carrying the mountain of high fashion, and then brought it to the inside of the mansion.
They moved through the grand marble foyer and deposited the initial load at the edge of the sprawling, opulent living room. Where the household staff was already waiting.
The maids, dressed in their crisp black and white uniforms, were already present, and they immediately went to help in bringing the boxes up the sweeping mahogany staircase, carrying them directly into Caleb and Mary-Beth's private master bedroom on the second floor.
Meanwhile, Caleb stood at the base of the marble steps in the courtyard. He looked at the five heavily armed men who had just spent the entire afternoon maintaining a flawless, highly stressful security perimeter in the middle of a crowded commercial district. They looked exhausted, their dusters coated in a fine layer of city grime.
Caleb, recognizing their hard work and unwavering loyalty, told Silvio and the four guards that they could go and wash up, and then join him alongside Mary-Beth for a lavish dinner inside the main dining hall.
"You boys did excellent work today," Caleb praised them, his voice carrying the warm, brotherly authority that made men willing to die for him. "The perimeter was tight. Put the horses away, wash the dust off, and come inside. Eat at the main table with us tonight."
Silvio and the guards exchanged quick, deeply respectful glances. It was an incredibly high honor for the likes of them to be invited to dine at the Don's personal table, especially when the Madam was present.
But they, of course, said no. They knew their place, and they possessed an intense, protective respect for their leader's private life. "With all due respect, Don McLaughlin," Silvio rumbled, bowing his massive, scarred head deeply. "We cannot accept. We smell like horse sweat and gun oil, and we absolutely don't want to disturb your private time with the Madam. You two deserve a quiet evening."
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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: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 282,992 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, 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, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -