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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Caleb nodded his head, a fierce, deeply satisfied smile crossing his face. By monopolizing the town's power grid, he had effectively made it impossible for the local government to ever cross him. After thanking the technician and handing the man a crisp fifty dollar bill as a bonus for the spectacular work he and his team have done, Caleb signaled for the group to move on.
Next, the tour continued by leaving the damp, roaring hydro facility and walking back up the paved path toward the front of the magnificent wooden fortress. It was time to inspect the interior of the hotel.
Silvio stepped forward, grabbing the massive brass handles of the double mahogany doors and pulling them wide open. Caleb, Arthur, Hosea, Vincenzo, and the capos stepped inside, leaving the cold mountain air behind.
They entered the grand lobby first.
The sheer, cavernous scale of the room was breathtaking. The ceiling soared three stories high, supported by massive, dark-stained timber pillars that had been stripped entirely from the oldest, thickest redwood trees in the region. The floor was laid with polished, smooth river stones, interspersed with rich, dark hardwood planks.
At the far end of the room stood an absolutely colossal fireplace, built from massive grey boulders, capable of holding entire tree trunks to keep the room roaring with heat during the brutal West Elizabeth winters.
Currently, the room was entirely empty, smelling strongly of fresh pine sap, wood polish, and masonry dust. It was a blank, flawless canvas waiting for Caleb's capital to fill it.
"Imagine this space, Don McLaughlin," Strauss echoed, his footsteps ringing out in the empty hall. "Massive Persian rugs imported from Saint Denis covering the floors. Thick velvet armchairs arranged around the roaring fire. Three massive, multi tiered brass chandeliers hanging from those heavy crossbeams, blazing with electric light while the rest of the town sits in the dark. It will be the very definition of modern opulence."
"It's incredible," Hosea murmured, his eyes tracking up the towering timber pillars. "I've seen the finest hotels in Chicago and New York, but they always feel so cramped and made of concrete. This... this feels alive. It feels like the mountains themselves."
From the grand lobby, Strauss led them down a wide, naturally lit corridor in the eastern wing of the ground floor. He unlocked a heavy, reinforced oak door and ushered the group inside.
This room was different from the others. It was heavily reinforced, lacking the massive plate glass windows of the lobby, and featured thick, iron barred security doors.
This was the room which would be entirely filled with the premium guns and ammunition shipped directly from the Thorne-Marlin Firearms Company.
Caleb walked to the center of the room, explaining his highly lucrative, cross promotional business strategy to his lieutenants. "This is not just a hotel, gentlemen. It is a staging ground for the wealthy elite. The tycoons, the politicians, and the European aristocrats who travel out west don't just come to sleep in a nice bed. They come for the thrill of the frontier. They come to hunt."
Caleb gestured to the empty, custom built wooden racks lining the walls. "Here, the customers could go and buy the absolute finest, top of the line weapons of their choice. High caliber hunting rifles, customized repeaters, and engraved revolvers. They can buy them here for their local hunting expeditions, or purchase them as high end souvenirs to be brought back to their mansions in the east."
Arthur Morgan's eyes lit up. As a man who appreciated the fine, deadly craftsmanship of a perfectly balanced firearm, this was a brilliant concept. He ran his calloused hand over the smooth, unfinished wood of the display racks.
"They could also test the weapons as well, I presume?" Arthur asked, looking back at Caleb. "Wealthy men don't like buying a five hundred-dollar custom rifle without putting a few rounds through the barrel first."
"Exactly, Arthur," Caleb nodded. "We are building a private, highly secure shooting range out the back doors. And if they don't want to buy, they can easily rent one of our specialized Thorne-Marlin rifles for a heavy daily fee to use exclusively for the guided hunting activities we provide here."
"It's brilliant," Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "You charge them for the room, you charge them for the gun, and you charge them for the bullets. You're bleeding them from three different ways, and they'll thank you for the privilege with a smile."
Next, Strauss led them back out into the main hall and over to the sprawling reception counter. It was a massive, intricately carved slab of solid dark oak.
Behind the counter sat a complex grid of brass keys and mail slots, and a heavy, state of the art electric telegraph machine had already been installed to allow immediate, instantaneous communication with the corporate headquarters back in Saint Denis.
From the reception, they moved to the grand, sweeping central staircase, beginning the thorough inspection of the guest accommodations. They moved systematically to the rooms on the first, second, and third floors.
As they walked down the wide, carpet ready hallways, Strauss unlocked several of the different suites to demonstrate the tiered levels of luxury. There were the standard rooms, which were still massive by any normal hotel's standards, featuring large bay windows and private access to the wrap around verandas.
Then there were the premium suites on the third floor, designed exclusively for the ultra wealthy. These suites featured private stone fireplaces, separate sitting rooms, and the absolute height of modern luxury for 1899, private, en suite bathrooms equipped with running hot water powered directly by the hydro dam's electric boilers.
During all of these exhaustive, room by room inspections, Arthur, Hosea, Vincenzo, and Silvio of course reacted to everything they saw.
Arthur and Hosea were openly appreciative, constantly pointing out the incredible craftsmanship of the woodwork and the sheer, strategic brilliance of the layout. But for Vincenzo and Silvio, the two hardened veterans of the Italian mafia, their reactions were deeply internal and profoundly, utterly staggering.
As they stood on the third-floor balcony, looking out over the breathtaking view of the forested valley, Vincenzo leaned in close to Silvio. The scarred Underboss kept his voice to a low, barely audible whisper, out of earshot of the Don.
"Silvio... do you realize what we are standing in right now?" Vincenzo murmured, his dark eyes wide with a terrifying realization.
The giant enforcer grunted, his grip tightening on the strap of his shotgun. "A very expensive wooden house."
"No, you idiot," Vincenzo hissed, shaking his head. "Look at the scale of this. The foundations, the timber, the dam. It takes months, almost a year, to build something this massive and complex. Which means... Don McLaughlin didn't start building this after he took the city from Bronte."
Silvio's heavy brow furrowed as the timeline clicked into place in his brain.
Vincenzo and Silvio were suddenly hit with the absolute, undeniable truth. They were more on the side that they didn't expect their Don to have had this massive, multi hundreds of thousands of dollara legitimate corporate project being made way before he had even become the Don.
When Caleb was supposedly just a highly skilled, rugged bounty hunter and then become the Underboss of the family running errands for Angelo Bronte, he was secretly funneling immense amounts of capital out west, hiring architects, and laying the literal foundations for an empire.
In their eyes, this revelation showed exactly how truly, terrifyingly great their Don actually was. He hadn't just seized an opportunity when Guido Martelli betrayed the family, he had been playing a three dimensional game of chess from the very beginning.
He had seen the absolute end of the game, the total domination of the state, before the other players had even sat down at the board. The level of respect and sheer, unadulterated awe the two mafia lieutenants felt for Caleb multiplied a hundredfold in that single moment. They weren't just serving a mob boss, they were serving a visionary god among men.
The tour inside the hotel lasted for quite some time, with Caleb meticulously checking the structural integrity of the floorboards, the draft of the chimneys, and the layout of the dining halls.
When they finally transitioned back outside into the crisp afternoon air, Strauss didn't stop the presentation. The hotel was only the anchor, the surrounding infrastructure was what made the resort a complete package.
Strauss led them to the edge of the property, where the dense pine forest began. He pointed out toward several freshly cut, clearly marked trailheads leading deep into the mountains.
Strauss proudly showed them the highly curated hunting tracks that had been expertly mapped out and cleared specifically for the wealthy customers to use in the future.
"We have mapped over thirty miles of pristine wilderness trails, Don McLaughlin," Strauss explained, gesturing to a detailed topographical map he pulled from his coat. "We will have experienced, local wilderness guides on our payroll to lead the tycoons directly to the prime hunting grounds for elk, grizzly bears, and bighorn sheep. It ensures they get their trophies safely, and it ensures they pay our exorbitant guide fees."
Furthermore, Strauss added, detailing the logistical transport, that several heavy duty, custom built carriages specifically designed for these rugged, multi day hunting trips were currently being made by the finest wainwrights in Saint Denis.
"They are being outfitted with heavy suspensions, gun racks, and ice boxes for the game. They will be sent down here via the freight trains the moment they are finished."
Caleb nodded, highly pleased. "Make sure Charles is brought out here to inspect the trails and the carriages once they arrive. He is overseeing all livestock and hunting operations for the family now. If Charles says the trails are good, then they are good."
"Of course, sir. I will coordinate with Herr Smith immediately," Strauss noted in a small leather ledger.
Finally, Strauss led the heavily armed group away from the main hotel grounds. They walked a short distance down the dusty main road of Strawberry, crossing a small wooden bridge over the creek, and Strauss then showed them the massive, newly constructed stable as well.
It was a sprawling, immaculate facility with dozens of oversized, premium stalls, clean hay lofts, and a fully equipped blacksmith forge attached to the side.
This was where the ultra wealthy customers could safely store their expensive, purebred Arabian and Turkoman horses while they stayed at the hotel. It was, of course, positioned perfectly down the road to keep the smell of the animals entirely away from the pristine, high society dining rooms of the main resort, while still remaining highly accessible.
As Caleb, Arthur, and Hosea walked through the clean, quiet aisles of the new stable, admiring the craftsmanship of the heavy iron stall gates, they heard the sound of hurried, heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel outside.
It was at this exact time that the absolute highest legal authority in the town decided to make his presence known.
The Mayor of Strawberry, Nicholas Timmins, had come practically running from his office the moment he heard that the terrifyingly wealthy, incredibly dangerous investors from Saint Denis had arrived in his town.
Mayor Timmins was a pompous, overly dressed man who desperately tried to project an aura of sophisticated, eastern city authority, despite governing a town comprised mostly of mud and loggers.
He hurried into the dim light of the stables, his face flushed, adjusting the lapels of his tailored suit as his eyes instantly locked onto the intimidating wall of suited mafia capos guarding the entrance. He swallowed hard, his manufactured courage faltering slightly, before he spotted the tall, impeccably dressed figure of Caleb Thorne stepping out from one of the horse stalls.
Timmins quickly wiped his sweating palms on his trousers and approached the Don. He greeted Caleb incredibly respectfully, bowing his head in a display of deep political submission.
"Mr. McLaughlin! Good heavens, sir, what an unexpected honor!" Mayor Timmins exclaimed, his voice slightly breathless. He practically tripped over his own feet to close the distance. "Welcome! Welcome to the beautiful town of Strawberry! I was entirely unaware of your impending arrival today. I simply didn't expect that you would come down here to our humble valley personally yet again!"
Timmins looked nervously at Silvio's massive repeating shotgun, then back to Caleb's calm, piercing blue eyes. "Had I known, I would have organized a proper welcoming committee! A parade, perhaps!"
Caleb looked at the sweating, sycophantic politician. He knew exactly how to play men like Timmins. They were driven by greed and the desperate need to feel important.
Caleb offered a smooth, incredibly charming, yet undeniably dominant smile.
He stepped forward, extending his hand. He shook the Mayor's hand with a firm, iron clad grip that silently reminded the politician exactly who held the true power in this region.
"There is absolutely no need for parades, Mayor Timmins," Caleb said smoothly, his voice a rich, comforting baritone that instantly put the nervous man at ease while simultaneously establishing absolute control. "I prefer to travel quietly when conducting my business."
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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, 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: -