Valentine Train Station.
Martelli was escorted over by Mac and several of his men.
"Behave yourself, kid. We're in Valentine now—not Lemoyne, and certainly not your Saint Denis," Mac said coldly.
"Once we're here, you'd better keep your head down."
Mac kicked Martelli off the train and jumped down beside him.
Just then, two trainee officers approached. Martelli's eyes immediately lit up, and he tried to call out for help. After all, he had good connections with the Saint Denis police department. The Valentine Police Department was also under federal jurisdiction, part of the same system.
However, the two trainee officers smiled as they greeted Mac, completely ignoring the fact that he had just kicked someone. One of them even pulled out a cigarette and offered it to him.
"Oh, buddy, I still need to hand this guy over to Davey," Mac said casually. "If I delay too long, that won't be good."
"Of course, Mr. Mac," the officer replied. "Since it's Mr. Callander's business, we definitely shouldn't hold things up."
Hearing this exchange, Martelli's heart sank.
He obediently followed them to Land Farm.
...
When they arrived at Land Farm, Martelli was stunned.
He had thought that what he saw around Rhodes already represented most of Davey's power. Yet here, he saw even more employees dressed in black combat uniforms, every single one of them clearly well-trained.
In Saint Denis, Bronte did have more men—but those were nothing more than city thugs. These people, by contrast, were hardened criminals surviving in the brutal West. The difference was worlds apart.
Martelli had already paid the price for underestimating that difference, and now he was their captive.
...
Inside the mansion.
Davey, having received the news in advance, was waiting with Arthur.
When Martelli appeared, Davey immediately called out to Mac,
"Oh, Mac, you crude bastard. How could you treat our honored guest like this?"
"I told you to invite Mr. Martelli over. Just look at what you've done. Hurry up and untie him."
"Elisa," Davey added, "go make a cup of coffee—the best Blue Mountain coffee. I want to entertain our honored guest, Mr. Martelli properly."
Mac helplessly drew his dagger and cut the ropes binding Martelli's hands.
The maid, Elisa, went off to prepare the Blue Mountain coffee.
Only then did Davey turn to Martelli.
"My apologies, sir. You know how they are—always like savages, not exactly the most polite bunch," Davey said with a smile.
"I'm sorry for their behavior, Mr. Martelli. If there's anything you need, please feel free to say so."
At Davey's gesture, Martelli sat down on the sofa.
Hearing Davey speak like this, Martelli wanted nothing more than to ask if he could be released. Of course, he knew that was nothing but wishful thinking. In fact, Davey's polite words only made him feel even more uneasy.
"Mr… Mr. Land," Martelli hesitated briefly before addressing Davey that way, choosing the name as a small gesture of goodwill.
"This incident was our fault. But I was only acting under Mr. Bronte's orders. I couldn't disobey him, sir."
Davey smiled faintly.
"There's no need to be so nervous, Mr. Martelli. I invited you here simply to talk about cooperation."
Martelli hesitated again.
"Well… Mr. Land, I'm afraid I can't make that decision myself. I'd have to consult Mr. Bronte."
Davey shook his head slightly.
"No, Mr. Martelli. I'm here to talk about working with you—not with that arrogant Bronte."
"As far as I know, you're the second-in-command. According to Mafia rules, if the boss—Mr. Bronte—is imprisoned, hospitalized, or even dies, then the Saint Denis Mafia falls into your hands. Isn't that right?"
"So what I'm proposing isn't cooperation for now, but cooperation for the future. What do you think, Mr. Martelli?"
Martelli never expected Davey to bring up something like this at their very first meeting.
He wanted to loudly declare his loyalty to Mr. Bronte, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in his throat. It was as if Davey had seen straight through his thoughts.
That realization unsettled him deeply, and he remained silent.
Davey continued calmly,
"It's a good idea, isn't it, Mr. Martelli? Of course, you don't have to answer me right now."
"There's no longer any possibility of cooperation between Bronte and me—not after he sent his men to attack my ranch and tried to destroy my moonshine."
"Perhaps he never intended to work with me in the first place. In his eyes, I was probably nothing more than a small fry, right?"
"But you've seen it for yourself. Sometimes, even small fry aren't so easy to deal with."
"So I need partners—real partners. If we can work together, then everyone gets what they want. Isn't that so?"
Davey's voice was like a demon's whisper, constantly tempting Martelli's heart.
After all, how could Martelli not dream of becoming the true boss, controlling the entire Saint Denis Mafia?
In the original game's storyline, Bronte was kidnapped by Dutch and his men, drowned, and then fed to crocodiles. After that, Martelli smoothly rose to power and became the boss of the Saint Denis Mafia.
If Martelli had truly been loyal, he should have mobilized all his forces to avenge Bronte, hunting down every member of the Van der Linde Gang. Yet he did no such thing. Instead, he focused on indulgence and making money.
That alone showed that the desire to seize power had always existed in his heart.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Land," Martelli finally said after a fierce inner struggle.
"I can't betray Mr. Bronte. That's the code of the Mafia, and no one can break it."
Clearly, no matter how tempting Davey's words were, it was impossible for mere talk to make Martelli betray his allegiance.