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!)
...
"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."
Caleb released the man's hand and gestured back toward the towering, magnificent wooden fortress dominating the town's skyline.
Utilizing his max level Persuasion Skill to cement their incredibly lucrative political alliance, "But of course I will come down here personally. I had to see it with my own eyes. Because I have seen as well that the heavy, structural construction of my hotel is finally finished. You and your town have been exceptionally cooperative during this massive undertaking, Nicholas. The family appreciates your discretion."
Timmins puffed his chest out slightly, absolutely thrilled to be on a first name basis with the billionaire investor. "We are simply thrilled to have your business in our town, Mr. McLaughlin! The economic boom this will bring is unprecedented!"
"Indeed it is," Caleb agreed, adjusting his heavy dark overcoat. "We only need to finalize the interior. We are waiting on the heavy furniture from your local carpenters, and a couple of other specialized, imported things before it is finally, officially completed."
Caleb locked eyes with the Mayor, delivering the final, capitalistic hook. "When those doors open, Mayor Timmins, Strawberry will no longer be just a logging town. It will be the premier destination for the wealthiest men in America. And you, of course, will have a permanent, complimentary table in the grand dining room to host your political allies."
Mayor Timmins looked like he was about to weep with joy. The sheer political capital Caleb had just handed him was priceless. "You are too generous, sir! Absolutely too generous! If there is anything, anything at all, that you require from the town council, you have but to ask!"
"I will keep that in mind, Nicholas," Caleb nodded, officially dismissing the man.
As the Mayor practically skipped back out of the stables, thrilled with his secured future, Arthur Morgan stepped up beside Caleb, letting out a low, amused chuckle.
"You play these politicians like a damn fiddle, Caleb," Arthur smirked, shaking his head. "You just bought the Mayor of Strawberry with a free plate of food."
"A free plate of food, and the illusion of power, Arthur," Caleb corrected smoothly, turning to lead his lieutenants back toward the hotel. "It's the cheapest investment a man can make. Now, let's go sit down with Strauss. We have a few hundred thousand dollars' worth of Persian rugs and crystal to order."
After the thorough inspection of the hotel grounds and the stables was completely done, Strauss led them away from the immediate construction zone. The former loan shark guided the Don, Arthur, Hosea, Vincenzo, Silvio, and the contingent of deadly mafia capos down a quiet, pine shaded side street of Strawberry.
They arrived at a massive, beautifully constructed, two story wooden house that Strauss had exclusively rented for the duration of the hotel's construction.
It was a premium, highly comfortable lodge, entirely bought out so that Caleb and his group could take a proper rest and eat in absolute privacy. They would be staying here in Strawberry for the night, as the journey back down the treacherous mountain passes in the dark was a foolish risk, and they would return back to Saint Denis first thing in the morning.
As they entered the spacious rented house, the sheer, exhausting reality of their long travel day finally caught up with them. The capos immediately fanned out, automatically securing the perimeter, checking the heavy wooden window shutters, and taking up discreet, tactical guard positions by the front and rear doors.
Vincenzo and Silvio took off their heavy overcoats, hanging them on the brass rack by the entrance, while Arthur and Hosea practically collapsed into the plush, leather armchairs situated around a massive stone fireplace in the center of the living room.
A roaring fire had already been built, banishing the biting chill of the West Elizabeth mountain air. A local cook, hired by Strauss and heavily vetted, had prepared a massive, hearty frontier feast for the men. There were large, steaming cast iron pots of thick venison stew, freshly baked loaves of sourdough bread, roasted root vegetables, and heavy pitchers of dark, cold mountain beer.
They sat around the heavy oak dining table, eating like kings. The rich, savory food hit their stomachs, warming their blood and loosening the tension in their muscles. Arthur let out a deep, satisfied groan as he tore into a piece of crusty bread, washing it down with a long pull of the dark beer.
"I have to admit, Herr Strauss," Arthur mumbled through a mouthful of venison, offering the Austrian a rare, genuine compliment. "You know how to set up a camp. This beats the hell out of a leaking canvas tent."
"Only the absolute best for the Don and his family, Mr. Morgan," Strauss replied, adjusting his spectacles with a proud, tight smile.
As they rested and also ate, Strauss suddenly stood up from the table, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin. He excused himself, apologizing for interrupting the meal, and returned back to the house's upper floor after being gone for only a short time, heading to his rented room to get some highly sensitive, heavily guarded documents.
When Strauss walked back down the wooden stairs, he was carrying a massive, thick leather bound ledger, groaning slightly under the weight of the paperwork. He walked over to where Caleb was sitting at the head of the table, sipping a glass of water, and cleared a space among the empty stew bowls.
Strauss opened the heavy ledger, turning the thick parchment pages. He presented the documents to Caleb, where it explicitly showed the meticulously categorized, incredibly extensive list of furnishings needed to transform the empty wooden fortress into a world class luxury resort.
"Here are the final logistical estimates, Don McLaughlin," Strauss explained, his voice taking on the rapid, highly competent cadence of a master accountant. He pointed a thin finger at the columns of neat, black ink. "I have broken the expenditures down by sector."
Strauss began to list the sheer, staggering volume of items required. He showed the list of furniture needed for all of the hundred plus rooms in the hotel, heavy, custom carved four poster beds, matching mahogany wardrobes, premium feather mattresses, and velvet armchairs.
He then flipped the page, showing the massive industrial requirements for the kitchen of the hotel, six massive, cast iron wood burning stoves, hundreds of copper pots, premium butchering blocks, and complete sets of fine china and silver cutlery for the grand dining room.
He flipped another page, detailing the heavy, reinforced gun racks, the velvet display cases, and the specialized brass lighting fixtures required for the Thorne-Marlin firearms room, and many, many more logistical necessities, down to the exact thread count of the Egyptian cotton bedsheets and the specific thickness of the imported Persian rugs for the lobby.
"And here," Strauss said, tapping the very bottom of the final page, where a massive, heavily underlined number sat in bold ink, "is the total payment needed."
Strauss looked up, his chest puffing out with immense, unadulterated pride. "I have spent the last three weeks relentlessly negotiating with the local lumber barons, the textile importers, and the craftsmen. I utilized the promise of long term contracts to drive their profit margins into the dirt. I have negotiated the price to become as cheap as humanly possible without sacrificing a single ounce of the five star quality you demanded."
Caleb leaned forward, his sharp blue eyes locking onto the dense columns of numbers. He didn't just casually glance at the bottom line. Caleb, of course, used his max level Business Skill to analyze absolutely everything on the page.
Within seconds, his supernaturally enhanced mind processed the incredibly complex mathematics. He cross referenced the cost of raw mahogany against the current freight tariffs of the regional railway.
He calculated the depreciation of the kitchen equipment, the labor costs of the installation crews, and the wholesale discounts Strauss had managed to secure from the textile mills. He looked for hidden fees, padded margins, and logistical bottlenecks.
There were none. The ledger was a masterpiece of corporate accounting. Strauss had squeezed every single penny until it bled, securing a fortune's worth of luxury goods at an incredibly vicious, highly leveraged discount.
Caleb leaned back in his heavy wooden chair, a wide, deeply satisfied smile breaking across his handsome face. He nodded his head slowly, looking up at the nervous Austrian.
As he found that everything made absolute, perfect sense, Caleb reached out and closed the heavy leather ledger with a solid thud.
"It is flawless, Leopold," Caleb praised him, his voice echoing with absolute approval. "You have secured us an incredibly beautiful, highly profitable margin. I couldn't have negotiated a better rate myself."
"Sign the contracts with the craftsmen tomorrow morning," Caleb instructed, waving his hand dismissively to alleviate any financial concerns the accountant might have. "And as for the money, you do not need to worry about drafting local lines of credit. The entire sum will be sent directly from the primary holding accounts in the Saint Denis central bank later on this week. I will have Vincenzo oversee the armed transport of the cash directly to your office here. Pay them in full, and tell them I want the hotel fully furnished and ready to open its doors in exactly thirty days."
"Thirty days. It shall be done, my Don," Strauss nodded, his hands trembling slightly with sheer relief and professional ecstasy.
But Caleb wasn't finished with the former loan shark. With the business of the hotel officially concluded, Caleb poured himself a small glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter on the table. He took a slow sip, looking at Strauss with a highly calculating, deeply psychological gaze.
"And after the hotel is finally, fully done, Leopold," Caleb began, his voice dropping into a serious, highly personal register. "After the carpets are laid, the lights are turned on, and the first wealthy guests walk through those mahogany doors... your primary task here will be finished."
Strauss swallowed hard, suddenly terrified that he was about to be discarded now that his usefulness in the mountains was over. "I... I understand, Don McLaughlin. What... what would you have me do then?"
Caleb set his glass down. He told Strauss that he had two choices waiting for him.
Hearing that, Strauss was, of course, completely surprised. Outlaws and mob bosses didn't usually offer choices; they gave orders. He blinked rapidly behind his spectacles, his mind racing, before he respectfully asked what choices the Don had for him.
"You have proven your worth a hundred times over, Leopold," Caleb said, his tone filled with genuine respect. "So I am giving you the power to dictate your own future. Choice number one."
Caleb pointed out the window toward the towering silhouette of the hotel. "You can choose to stay right here in Strawberry. I will officially appoint you as the absolute General Manager of the hotel. You will oversee the daily operations, manage the staff, and live in absolute, quiet luxury in the mountains. It is a highly respected, incredibly safe position. You will never have to look over your shoulder again."
Strauss listened, the prospect of a quiet, wealthy life in the beautiful mountains sounding like an absolute dream for a man who had spent years being beaten and chased through the mud.
"Or," Caleb continued, raising a second finger, offering the far more dangerous, but infinitely more powerful alternative. "You follow me back to Saint Denis. You leave the quiet life behind, and you continue to become my absolute, top level private accountant and chief investment looker for the entire syndicate."
Caleb leaned forward, making sure Strauss understood the sheer weight of the second option. "If you come back to the city with me, you won't be managing room service. You will be managing millions of dollars in illicit cash, laundering it through heavy industry, bribing senators, and building a nationwide corporate empire. It will be incredibly stressful, highly demanding, and you will be sitting right at the absolute center of the criminal underworld."
Strauss, hearing that massive, life altering ultimatum, didn't even have to deliberate. He didn't weigh the pros and cons, and he didn't ask for a night to sleep on it.
Immediately, without thinking for too long, Strauss stood up slightly straighter. A fierce, incredibly sharp, and utterly ruthless light ignited behind his polished spectacles.
The quiet life in the mountains was safe, yes. But Leopold Strauss had tasted true, absolute corporate power under Caleb's tutelage, and he found that he possessed an insatiable, burning appetite for it.
"I choose the city, Don McLaughlin," Strauss said, his voice entirely devoid of hesitation
"Are you certain?" Arthur asked from the armchair by the fire, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "It gets pretty bloody down there in the swamps, Strauss."
"I am absolutely certain, Mr. Morgan," Strauss nodded, his eyes locked onto Caleb. He explained his reasoning with pure, capitalistic logic. "Because the opportunities there are massive. A hotel is a wonderful achievement, but it is just one building. Saint Denis is the beating heart of the economy. The shipping lanes, the factories, the stock exchange... that is where the true wealth of this country is flowing. And since your empire will be permanently headquartered there as well, I belong where the ledger is the heaviest. I want to build the empire, Don McLaughlin."
Caleb, hearing that fierce, highly ambitious declaration, nodded his head with a wide, predatory smile. He loved surrounding himself with men who were hungry for greatness, his voice ringing with absolute approval, "That is a very, very good choice you made, Leopold. Wrap up the furnishings here, hire a competent manager to run the front desk, and then pack your bags. A massive corner office in Saint Denis is waiting for you."
...
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: -