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Caleb gave a quiet chuckle. "Fair enough. Let's say I'm the kind of man who knows how to keep his mouth shut." He took another sip, watching Ezra's reaction. "I've been hearin' a name floating 'round since I got here. A man who... facilitates things. Bronte. Angelo Bronte. They say if you want real work in this city, you go through him. Sounds like he's the one with real power."
Ezra's polite smile faltered. He glanced to both sides before leaning closer. "I don't know who told you that, but you'd best keep that name off your tongue. Mister Bronte's got eyes everywhere in this city. Police, politicians, bankers, you name it. You don't deal with him unless you're invited."
Caleb met his gaze calmly. "Relax, friend. I ain't lookin' for trouble. Just information. You got my word this stays between us."
His voice softened, but there was an edge to it, a persuasive undertone bolstered by his System's Persuasion Skill subtly flickering to life. A faint shimmer crossed his vision, and he felt that slight shift in energy, the kind that made people just a little more willing to trust him.
Ezra hesitated, then sighed. "You didn't hear it from me, alright? Bronte's the kind of man that runs this place like it's his own kingdom. Lives in a mansion over by the riverfront. Got the mayor eatin' out of his hand. They say if you need something, anything, he's the man to see. But you don't go knockin' on his door uninvited unless you want to disappear."
Caleb nodded slowly, absorbing every word. "Sounds like a man worth knowing… or at least understanding."
"Maybe," Ezra said, his voice low. "But he's dangerous, Mister McLaughlin. The kind of dangerous that don't need to shout about it. He's got men everywhere, inside the law and outside it."
Caleb smirked faintly, taking another sip of his drink. "Appreciate the warning."
Ezra leaned in slightly again. "If you're really lookin' to get around, talk to the boys at the docks. They hear everything. Riverboat captains, smugglers, warehouse hands, they all answer to someone, and most roads lead back to Bronte anyway."
"That's good advice," Caleb said, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink. "And don't worry, Ezra. I'll make sure no one knows we talked about this."
Ezra gave a relieved nod. "Much obliged, mister. Word of advice, watch your back out there. Saint Denis shines bright, but its shadows run deep, and decent job is hard to find. So I like to still have my job, Mister McLaughlin if you don't mind."
Caleb lifted his glass again, finishing the whiskey. "You and me both." He placed another dollar on the counter, earning a grateful nod from Lewis, before turning to glance across the saloon.
The conversations continued, laughter rolling through the air as the pianist shifted into a livelier tune. But Caleb's thoughts were elsewhere, running through what he'd just learned, mapping out connections, possibilities.
Bronte wasn't just a crime lord, he was a keystone, the link between Dutch's ambitions and the gang's eventual downfall. But this time, Caleb intended to control that link.
He turned back toward the counter briefly. "One last thing, Lewis. You ever heard of anyone bein' invited to meet Bronte?"
Ezra tilted his head thoughtfully. "From what I hear, if you make enough noise or show enough worth, word tends to reach him quick."
Caleb nodded thoughtfully at Ezra's words, the final hint he needed clicking into place like a well cut gear. He reached into his satchel, pulling out a small stack of bills. "Tell you what," he said, placing 10 dollars neatly on the counter. "I'll be stayin' in town for a bit. Five days oughta do. That's for the room and the rest," he tapped the spare 5 dollar bill closer to Ezra, "that's a tip. For sharin' what you did. I know it ain't easy talkin' about certain names around here."
Ezra blinked, then broke into a warm, slightly nervous smile. "Well now, much obliged, Mister McLaughlin. That's mighty kind of you." He slid the bills discreetly under the counter, his tone lowering. "Room for five days, comin' right up."
He turned to the wooden key rack behind the counter, his fingers brushing past a dozen numbered brass tags before selecting one. With a small metallic jingle, he handed the key to Caleb.
"Your room's on the second floor," Ezra explained. "Once you're up the stairs, turn right down the hallway. It's on the right side, opposite the bathin' room. You'll see a little sign hangin' beside the door, so you'll know which is yours. Fine place, too. We keep it clean."
Caleb chuckled softly, nodding his thanks. "Appreciate it, Ezra. For both the room and the talk. You didn't have to, but you did."
Ezra's expression softened, sincerity flickering through his usually composed face. "You seem like the kind that knows how to mind his business. That's a rare thing in this city, Mister McLaughlin. Enjoy your stay and watch your step."
Caleb smiled faintly, tipping his hat before turning to make his way across the saloon.
The polished wooden floor creaked softly beneath his boots as he passed between tables where Saint Denis locals laughed, gambled, and drank in excess. The air was a haze of cigar smoke, perfume, and the faint sweetness of whiskey.
Male patrons leaned in close to working girls dressed in corsets and lace, laughter bubbling like champagne. Caleb moved through it all like a shadow, his eyes quietly scanning faces, taking in details the way only someone who'd lived through chaos could.
To his right, a poker table was in full swing, cards snapping against felt, coins clinking into small piles. The sound almost pulled him in, but he kept walking, for now.
He reached the staircase, its railings polished to a dark shine. Just beside it, the pianist's small stage took up a corner of the room. The man at the piano, dressed in a fraying vest and fingerless gloves, played a lively tune that filled the saloon with an energy that bordered on frantic joy. Caleb slowed for a moment, offering a half smile.
"You're playin' real fine, friend," Caleb said as he passed.
The pianist, surprised but pleased, nodded quickly without missing a beat. "Thank ya kindly, mister!"
Caleb turned left and began to climb the stairs. The first set was short, leading to a small landing where two tables stood just behind the piano's backdrop. A pair of patrons sat there, one snoring into his drink while a woman rolled her eyes and continued smoking. Caleb took the second flight of stairs, his boots thudding softly on the carpeted steps.
When he reached the second floor, the air changed, quieter, but not silent. The scent of tobacco and perfume still lingered, but up here it mixed with the faint tang of soap and polish.
The space opened into a lounge area with three green velvet sofas arranged in a circle, a low table in the center with an ashtray overflowing with cigar butts. A few patrons reclined there, talking low and lazy, while two working girls in corsets shared giggling whispers with a drunken businessman.
Caleb barely spared them a glance. He turned right down the hall, counting doors until he found the one matching Ezra's description. The polished brass number gleamed softly in the gaslight. Across from it, he saw the small sign beside the bathing room, exactly as Ezra had said.
He unlocked the door with a soft click and stepped inside.
The room that greeted him was far more luxurious than anything he'd slept in since being dragged into this world. It was spacious and warmly lit, the floor covered by a deep red rug. On the left, two double doors stood with frosted glass windows, framed by heavy drapes.
Through them, he could just make out the faint shimmer of the balcony overlooking the saloon's street below. Between the doors stood a vanity table with a mirror, a shaving kit laid neatly beside a woman's unused makeup set, likely part of the room's amenities for more… profitable guests.
In the center of the room, a king-sized bed with red linens looked soft enough to drown in. A large yellow sofa sat near the foot of the bed beside a wooden chest, the kind meant for luggage or valuables.
Caleb exhaled slowly. "Well, hell," he murmured, stepping further inside. "Nicest damn room I've had since I got transmigrated in this world."
He unbuckled his gear carefully, first removing the Lancaster Repeater from his back, then the Pump-Action Shotgun, placing both atop the wooden chest. His hat followed, and then he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, soft, but supportive, like something out of the civilized world he'd left behind in the wilderness.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, letting his mind wander.
"Alright. Think."
The day was slipping toward evening. The glow through the balcony glass was softening, sunlight melting into the haze of approaching dusk. If he left now, he might reach the fence's shop in the Saint Denis market, but it'd likely be closed by the time he got there. Most merchants here didn't stay open after dark, not in this part of town.
And while Caleb could handle himself just fine, he didn't much care for walking the slums or docks at night. Not because of fear, but because every unnecessary fight risked drawing law attention, and that was a headache he didn't need.
"So much for selling trinkets tonight."
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes drifting toward the empty whiskey glass he'd brought up from the bar. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, tired eyes, the faint trace of stubble, the hardened calm of a man who'd lived through too much yet still managed to find small moments of peace.
"Guess there's only one thing left to do," he muttered, a small smirk forming. "Poker."
His Poker Skill, leveled all the way to Level 4 which a step before the max level, gave him a very huge confidence. He didn't even need the System prompts anymore, just instinct and reading people's tells. If luck favored him tonight, he might walk away with more money than he'd started with.
Decision made, Caleb lay back on the bed, just for a short nap. He'd earned it.
The soft hum of the city outside and the faint muffled laughter below lulled him quickly into light sleep. When he awoke, it was darker, the gas lamps outside glowing gold through the frosted doors. He checked his pocket watch. 6 o'clock. Evening had settled in fully.
He stood, straightened his coat, made sure his sidearm sat snugly in its holster, and gave himself a quick once over in the mirror. Satisfied, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the hallway.
Downstairs, the saloon had come alive.
The energy had doubled, maybe tripled. The piano played a jaunty tune, louder and faster than before, trying to compete with the rising din of laughter and shouts.
Patrons filled every table now, men and women leaning over drinks, deals, and flirtations. Smoke curled in the lamplight, and the air carried the scent of whiskey and perfume thick as fog.
Caleb descended the stairs, his boots landing softly against the wood. His eyes went straight to the poker table near the back, a round one surrounded by six chairs, five of which were occupied.
He made his way over, weaving between servers carrying trays and patrons boasting about cards or winnings.
"Mind if I join, gentlemen?" he asked, voice carrying the kind of easy calm that immediately drew glances.
The man nearest to him, a portly fellow in a fine brown waistcoat with gold buttons, looked up from his hand. "Buy in's 5 dollars mister," he said. "If you're game for that, pull up a chair."
Caleb smiled faintly. "That'll do just fine." He counted out five dollars, laid them on the table, and received a small stack of chips in return. The dealer, a clean shaven man with sharp eyes and steady hands,nnodded as Caleb took the last empty seat. The game began.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 4)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 3)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 3)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 2)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 1)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 3)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1,799 dollars and 46 cents
Inventory: 104,021 dollars and 22 cents, 7 gold nuggets, 58 gold bars, 7 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, 5 gold rings, 5 silver rings, 6 silver pocket watches, 3 silver buckles, 3 gold buckles, 1 gold pocket compass, 2 platinum pocket watches, 2 Colm's Schofields, and land deed (Parcel)
Bank: -