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Caleb nodded and reached into his satchel, though in truth, he was pulling the items directly from his system inventory, careful to make it look natural. One by one, he laid them on the counter. twelve silver rings, two large bags of assorted jewelry, five gold rings, six silver pocket watches, three silver buckles, three gold buckles, one gold pocket compass, and two platinum pocket watches.
The fence's eyes widened slightly. He wasn't fool enough to ask where these came from, but even for his trade, this was quite the haul. Still, he hid his surprise well and began to examine each piece carefully.
"Fine craftsmanship," he murmured, lifting a pocket watch to the light. "And the gold's pure. I'll admit, you've brought me quite the collection, mister."
Caleb stayed silent, just watching him count and inspect, his calm never wavering.
After a few minutes, the man looked up and nodded approvingly. "Alright, I can offer you 255 dollars in total for the lot of valuables. Fair price for quality like this."
Caleb considered it for a second, then gave a small nod. "Fair enough. You've got yourself a deal."
"Excellent," the fence said, clearly pleased. He opened the drawer under the counter, took out neat stacks of bills, and began counting them in front of Caleb, tens and twenties, crisp and precise. Once finished, he slid the money across the counter. "255 dollars even, not a single was left. Always a pleasure to do business with a man who brings quality."
Caleb took the cash, folding it neatly into his inner pocket. "Appreciate the honesty."
"Anytime," the fence said smoothly, his smile returning. "And if you happen upon more fine goods like these, my door's always open. A pleasure doing business with you, Mister...?"
"McLaughlin," Caleb supplied, tucking the money safely into his satchel, which then transferred it to his secure inventory. "The pleasure was mine, and I'll keep that in mind."
With that, he turned and made his way toward the door. As he stepped out into the daylight, he took a deep breath of the market air and allowed himself a satisfied grin. Things were going smoothly, just as planned.
He adjusted his hat, glanced around the busy street, and muttered under his breath, "Now, next stop, that clothing store."
He'd need something sharp, something that would let him blend into the city's upper circles when the time came to make his move toward the Grand Korrigan. He pictured Mary-Beth, too, her eyes lighting up when she saw the fine dress he'd get her. It was a small thing, maybe, but one that mattered.
He leaves the market and mounted Morgan once more, the city's morning bustle around him alive and vivid, as he then flicked the reins and directed Morgan toward the next destination on his list, his eyes sharp, his purpose clear.
Leaving the bustling market behind, Caleb guided Morgan back toward the city's opulent heart. The streets of Saint Denis shimmered under the mid-morning sun, the light reflecting off the polished carriage wheels and freshly washed windows of the city's wealthier districts.
Caleb guided Morgan through the bustle with an ease that came from experience. He'd long since learned that this city wasn't like the frontier towns or backwater settlements, here, people watched everything.
From the bankers and brokers in their high collars to the women in their wide brimmed hats and parasols, every pair of eyes that turned toward you was calculating, measuring who you were and what you were worth.
He wasn't here to impress them, not yet. But he'd need to look the part soon enough.
As he passed through the central suburb, the architecture shifted. The muddy cobblestone gave way to clean, even stonework, the buildings grew taller, their windows decorated with flower boxes and ornate railings. Horse drawn carriages replaced wagons, and the air itself smelled less of the market's dust and sweat, and more of perfume and tobacco.
Eventually, he reached familiar ground, the Bastille Saloon loomed to his left, its polished wooden sign gleaming in the sunlight. He slowed Morgan as he rode past, tipping his hat toward the familiar building where laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses drifted through the open doors. He didn't stop though. Not yet. His destination lay further north.
He continued riding until the road opened into a three way intersection, where the sound of hooves, carriage wheels, and the tram bells echoed between stately rows of houses. Here, to his right, a series of elegant mansions stretched along the boulevard, pristine lawns trimmed to perfection, marble fountains glittering under the sun belonging to Saint Denis's elite. Caleb couldn't help but smirk faintly. "So this is where the real money sleeps. "
The kind of people who never saw mud on their boots or blood on their hands, though they often profited from both.
He knew that one of those belonged to the mayor. Another, He suspected one of those grand estates belonged to none other than Angelo Bronte himself, the self styled king of Saint Denis. But that wasn't his concern, not yet. His focus lay on preparation, building his own path before the storm Dutch would one day drag them into.
For now, Caleb's focus stayed on the task before him.
He stopped near a hitching post by a wide set of stairs leading up to Harris Square. The square was clean, elegant, a quiet corner of luxury tucked away from the busier commercial avenues. Dismounting, Caleb gave Morgan an affectionate pat on the neck. "Stay here, girl. Won't be long."
He tied her reins securely, adjusted his coat, and climbed the marble steps.
At the top, the street opened into a broad terrace lined with white pillars and decorative lamps. To his right stood the De Coursey Tailor, a fine establishment with polished glass windows displaying mannequins dressed in immaculate coats, vests, and tailored trousers. A small brass sign by the door read "De Coursey Tailor: Purveyors of Elegance Since 1868."
Caleb pushed open the door, and a small bell above it jingled brightly. The air inside was cool and smelled faintly of pressed linen and lavender oil. The interior was exactly as he remembered from the game, spacious, spotless, and quiet, save for the faint sound of a phonograph playing a soft waltz.
Rows of finely tailored suits hung neatly along the walls, each labeled with elegant script. A few customers browsed quietly, their polished boots barely scuffing the marble floor.
Behind the counter stood a middle aged man with a pencil thin moustache, his posture impeccable. He wore a crisp white shirt, a black vest, and a deep red tie, with a tape measure draped neatly around his neck. When his eyes met Caleb's, his practiced smile appeared instantly.
"Welcome to De Coursey Tailor, sir," he greeted, his voice carrying the refined lilt of a man well versed in charm. "I am Charles De Coursey, owner and tailor of this fine establishment. What might I assist you with today?"
Caleb returned the smile with a polite nod. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. De Coursey. Name's McLaughlin. Heard this was the place to come for a man lookin' to blend in with Saint Denis's high society and do it in style."
Charles's eyes brightened, the sort of gleam that came when a tailor spotted a man with both taste and money. "Ah, Mr. McLaughlin, you've heard correctly. You've certainly come to the right place. The gentlemen of Saint Denis and quite a few from New York and Boston, I might add, entrust their appearance to none other than De Coursey Tailor."
He reached for a large catalog book resting on the counter and flipped it open, revealing neatly illustrated plates of various suits. "If you're seeking to blend with the city's upper circles, allow me to recommend three of our finest collections, the Bretagne, the Saint Denis, and the Deauville. Each ensemble is a statement of refinement and class, designed for the discerning gentleman."
Caleb leaned in, pretending to study the pages with interest. In truth, he remembered these outfits vividly, he'd purchased them himself back when Saint Denis was nothing more than a map on his old TV screen.
The Bretagne was a distinguished dark purple suit with black and purple striped pants, the Saint Denis, a bright red vest with white and blue stripe buttoned long sleeve shirt perfect for evening events, and the Deauville, sleek black with understated trim, though, if memory served, its plain long sleeve shirt always looked just a touch too dull for his liking.
Still, he played the part of the curious customer. "These three sure are fine," he said thoughtfully, his tone casual. "But tell me, Mr. De Coursey, this Deauville one here, fine suit, no doubt, but that shirt…" He gestured lightly to the drawing. "Bit too plain, don't you think? You reckon you could make it into a proper buttoned black long sleeve instead?"
Charles tilted his head, momentarily surprised by the suggestion. Then his brows lifted, and a smile tugged at his lips. "Ah… a gentleman with an eye for detail. Yes, I could make such an adjustment. The Deauville's simplicity was meant to highlight the cut of the jacket, but I daresay your idea could add a touch of distinction. It would not be difficult to tailor accordingly."
Caleb nodded approvingly. "Then let's do that. I'll take the Bretagne, the Saint Denis, and the Deauville with that change you mentioned." He paused, glancing back through the catalog before adding, "And the Corson outfit as well. Not quite as fancy, but I figure it'll do nicely for casual wear."
Charles's smile widened as he closed the book. "An excellent choice, sir. The Corson may lack the grandeur of our premium line, but it carries a sturdy elegance perfect for travel or day to day errands. I shall have them all prepared immediately."
Within minutes, he returned with several finely wrapped brown paper bags, each embossed with the De Coursey seal. "That will be 429 dollars and 50 cents, Mr. McLaughlin."
Caleb nodded, reached into his satchel, and began counting out the bills. He made sure the motion looked natural, not too fast, not too careful. In reality, the cash came directly from his system inventory, but to De Coursey's eyes, he was just a man with deep pockets and fine taste.
Once the payment was handed over, Charles accepted it with a graceful bow. "A pleasure doing business with you, sir. May your new attire bring you every success among Saint Denis's finest. Should you ever require further adjustments or new commissions, my door is always open."
Caleb tipped his hat politely. "Appreciate it, Mr. De Coursey. I'll be sure to come back."
He turned and left the store, the bell chiming once more as the door closed behind him.
Outside, the sunlight was brighter than before, and the square was still empty. Caleb descended the steps quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. When he was sure the coast was clear, he crouched slightly and, with a faint shimmer of blue light only visible for a heartbeat, transferred the paper bags into his system inventory.
"Perfect," he murmured. "No sense lugging these around."
He straightened up and strode toward Morgan, untying the reins and mounting in one smooth motion. "Alright, girl. Let's get movin'. Next stop, Kuo Chao & Co."
He turned Morgan southeast, heading back toward the district near the Bastille. The streets grew busier again as he approached the industrial blocks, wagons hauling crates, dockworkers shouting orders, and the smell of oil, metal, and gunpowder hanging in the air.
It didn't take long before he spotted the familiar red painted door of Kuo Chao & Co., Gunsmiths and Importers, the gleam of rifles and revolvers catching in the display window. The shopfront stood out proudly amid the brick buildings, its signage painted in gold trimmed letters.
...
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: 2,144 dollars and 96 cents
Inventory: 103,846 dollars and 72 cents, 7 gold nuggets, 58 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, and land deed (Parcel)
Bank: -