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He pulled his Civil War knife from its sheath and began to dig. The earth came away easily, and soon enough the blade struck something metallic. Brushing away the dirt, he uncovered a small steel lockbox. The hinges were rusted, but with a firm tug he managed to pry it open.
Expecting trinkets or maybe a pocket watch and he instead froze, because he found stacks of tightly packed dollar bills. His eyes widened. "Well, loo kat what I found bere…" he muttered with a low whistle. "Guess you were savin' for more than flowers."
He felt a brief flicker of guilt, but it faded as quickly as it came. The living had more use for money than the dead. He transferred the money into his system inventory, watching as the total on his interface ticked upward by 300 dollars. The sight brought a satisfied grin to his face. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about."
Caleb after that closed the box, buried it again just enough to leave no trace. He then straightened up, brushed the dirt from his gloves, and checked his map again.
The next marker was deeper inside the cemetery, near what looked like a small stone chapel. As he approached, the faint reflection of stained glass caught his eye, a mosaic window depicting a saint in blue and gold. Inside, the air was cooler, heavy with dust and the faint scent of incense long since burned away.
Rows of small plaques lined the walls, each marking a family name. Caleb's eyes flicked over them as he activated his Eagle Eye once more. The world shifted again, this time, one plaque blinked bright white near the far corner.
"Gotcha," he murmured, stepping closer. With careful precision, he pried the plaque loose. Behind it was a hollow compartment. He reached inside, fingers brushing something hard and smooth. When he pulled his hand back out, he froze.
Resting in his palm were six gold bars, gleaming faintly in the dim light.
For a moment, Caleb just stared, speechless. "Sweet mother of mercy…" he whispered, the corners of his mouth lifting in disbelief. "Either someone hid this from the law, or someone rich wanted to hide their fortune, or I just robbed a saint."
He quickly slipped the bars into his inventory, into his inventory with a soft hum of.
He exhaled a shaky laugh, the weight of his good fortune finally sinking in. Between the cash, the bounties, and now this, he was richer than he'd ever been since arriving in this world. "Ain't no way I'm complainin' about that," he muttered with a grin.
The final marker was still waiting, and curiosity drove him onward. He stepped back into the path outside the chapel, the last rays of sunlight now gone. The cemetery was cloaked in shadow, the lamplight flickering like watchful eyes. Crickets chirped from somewhere beyond the walls, and the wind whistled low through the graves.
As he followed the map toward the northern corner, he couldn't help but think about how strange his life had become, a man out of his own time, walking through a world that wasn't his, guided by a system that seemed half miracle, half curse. Yet for all the danger, for all the blood and fire, moments like this, finding treasure under the noses of the rich and dead made him feel like in a movie.
He stopped at the final marked location, a massive mausoleum, its iron gate rusted shut. The family name carved above the entrance had worn away with time. Caleb crouched, using his knife to pry the latch until it gave with a loud clink. Inside, the air was damp and cold. The walls were lined with stone coffins stacked in neat rows, and spiderwebs hung thick in the corners.
He activated Eagle Eye once more. The glow appeared beneath one of the lower coffins, faint but steady. Caleb knelt, pressed his palm to the stone, and noticed a loose slab along the base. After some effort, he managed to shift it aside, revealing a small recess. Inside lay an old wooden jewelry box, its hinges almost eaten through by age.
When he opened it, he found a collection of antique jewelry, silver lockets, brooches, and rings set with gemstones that shimmered faintly even in the dim light. Amethyst, sapphire, and ruby, exactly what he'd hoped for.
He stowed the treasures into his inventory and stood, giving the coffin a respectful nod. "Rest easy. I'll make sure your treasures don't go to waste."
The air around him felt different now, lighter, maybe even a little warmer, as if the spirits of the place approved of his work. "Well," he said quietly, "guess I ain't walkin' outta here empty handed."
Outside, the city lights shimmered beyond the walls, and the moon was rising over Saint Denis. Caleb stepped out of the mausoleum and glanced back once before making his way back to the gate, his boots crunching softly in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Morgan lifted her head as soon as she saw him, nickering softly. He smiled and gave her neck a reassuring pat as he mounted up.
"Let's go home, girl," he murmured, steering her toward the Bastille district once more. "Tomorrow, we'll see what other secrets this city's willin' to give."
Before leaving, he give one last look back at the cemetery. The place stood silent, eternal, a city of the dead holding its secrets close. But Caleb had learned how to listen, and tonight, the dead had spoken kindly.
As he rode back toward the heart of Saint Denis, the streetlamps shimmered in the damp evening air, reflecting off puddles like small pools of starlight. Somewhere in the distance, a jazz tune drifted from an open window, soft and mournful. Caleb exhaled, the tension finally easing from his shoulders.
He reached the main street again, mind already planning his next move. Tomorrow, he thought, he might check the bounty board again, see if there was another name worth chasing. Or maybe, just maybe, he'd take a day off. He had earned it.
For now, he and Morgan would ride through the quiet streets, pockets full of gold and the night at peace around them.
The streets of Saint Denis shimmered under the dim gaslights, the city humming its low, endless tune. Caleb rode through the quiet boulevards, Morgan's hooves clicking softly against the cobblestone, the air heavy with mist and the faint scent of tobacco smoke.
He passed the glowing windows of cafes, the laughter of wealthy patrons drifting into the street, and the distant wail of a train somewhere beyond the riverfront.
By the time he reached the Bastille, the moon had climbed high, turning the wet cobbles silver. Caleb dismounted, patted Morgan's neck. "Good work tonight, girl. You earned your rest," he said softly, untying her reins and leading her to the hitching post. Morgan snorted, dipping her head as he secured her.
He stepped into the saloon, greeted by the low hum of piano music and quiet chatter. The evening crowd had mellowed, gentlemen in waistcoats, a few ladies laughing over champagne, a haze of smoke curling through the warm air. Caleb made his way through, tipping his hat at a few familiar faces.
"Evenin', McLaughlin," one of the poker regulars called out, a cigar glowing between his fingers. "Cleaned us out good last night, still ain't forgiven you yet."
Caleb smirked faintly. "Then best you don't sit across from me or even at the poker table with me next time," he replied, voice low and easy.
A few chuckles rippled through the tables. He moved up the stairs, boots thudding softly on the wood, until he reached his room at the end of the hall. The lock clicked open, and he stepped inside.
The small but comfortable space greeted him with silence, bed neatly made, his gear lined on the desk, the faint smell of whiskey and gun oil in the air.
Caleb set his Litchfield Repeater down carefully, pulled off his boots, and sat on the edge of the bed. His muscles ached from the day, the fight, the ride, the digging through graves and exhaustion tugged at him harder than he expected.
"Long damn day," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
He lay back, eyes on the ceiling for a long moment as the world blurred and softened around him. His mind replayed flashes of the day, Doran's face when the fire caught, the flames devouring the shack, the steel box buried in the grave, the six gold bars gleaming like captured sunlight, the jewels hidden beneath the tomb.
For all the danger, all the strangeness of this life, nights like this almost felt worth it. The hum of the saloon below faded. Caleb drifted into sleep.
When morning came, the city was alive again. The muffled sound of carts and chatter seeped through the window, the call of gulls echoing from the harbor. Caleb rose with the first light, stretching his shoulders and rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"New day, new trouble," he said under his breath.
He washed his face in the basin, changed into his Bretagne outfit, crisp white shirt, navy vest, and dark trousers, polished boots to match. His reflection in the mirror looked sharp, the kind of man who could blend into Saint Denis's upper crust yet still draw his gun faster than most. He strapped on his belt, holstered his sidearm, and slung his satchel over his shoulder.
Downstairs, the Bastille was already stirring. Ezra was behind the counter, laughing with a pair of wealthy patrons. The scent of coffee and fresh bread filled the room. Caleb waved a casual hand in greeting as he walked past.
"Morning, Mr. McLaughlin," Ezra called. "You heading out early again?"
"Gonna stretch my legs around the city," Caleb replied. "See what Saint Denis has to offer besides smoke and card tables."
Ezra chuckled. "Try not to win every coin out there. Some of us gotta eat too."
Caleb smirked, then stepped out into the sunlight. The air was fresh, the streets bustling with workers, street vendors, and carriages clattering past. He made his way toward Morgan, intent on a quiet day of exploration. Maybe check a few side alleys, listen for rumors, see what else this gilded city hid beneath its civility.
But before he could reach the horse, a voice called out behind him.
"Mr. McLaughlin."
He stopped, his instincts tightening instantly. The tone was polite, but too deliberate, too sharp. He turned.
Two Italian men stood a few paces away. Both wore tailored suits, dark and clean, their shoes polished to mirrors. They looked like they belonged at a banker's desk, but their posture said otherwise, broad shouldered, hands always near their jackets. Their eyes were cold, professional.
Caleb met their gaze evenly. "Yeah, that's me," he said slowly. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"
The taller of the two stepped forward slightly, his accent thick but his words careful. "We are associates of Signor Angelo Bronte. He has… taken an interest in you."
Caleb raised a brow. "That so?"
The second man nodded. "Your reputation travels quick, Signor McLaughlin. At the poker table, and also with certain… undesirables you've brought to the law this past couple of days. Mr. Bronte appreciates men who are efficient and discreet. Doesn't leave any trail behind."
Caleb's expression flickered, the faintest trace of surprise before he smoothed it out. His heart gave a slow, measured thump. If Bronte was watching him, it meant that he had manages to caught the attention of someone powerful enough to make things dangerous.
Still, he needed to play the part. "Well, you'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe," Caleb said, his tone polite but edged. "Mr. Bronte doesn't strike me as the kind of man to take sudden interest in strangers. How do I know you two ain't just sayin' his name to get what you want?"
...
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: 2,621 dollars and 25 cents
Inventory: 104,369 dollars and 72 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 64 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, & 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box
Bank: -