novelraw Chapter 442: 417. Moving The Riches To The Mansion
Chapter 442: 417. Moving The Riches To The Mansion
If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
...
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The logistical reality of the situation rapidly set in. This chapel was isolated, yes, but it was also highly vulnerable to the elements, to rot, and to the sheer unpredictability of the swamp. Now, his only thinking was to move all of this from the chapel immediately. He could not leave the foundation of his new empire sitting out in the mud, guarded by men who had just proven their loyalties could be swayed.
He needed all of this capital secured behind his own walls. So he could have much easier access to it for his rapid corporate expansion. And more importantly, also when he wanted to move the most valuable assets, the bonds, the deeds, and the gold bars, personally through his system inventory, then it will be much easier for him to do so without drawing the suspicious eyes of his own men.
If he started making chests of gold vanish into thin air out here in the swamp, Vincenzo and Silvio would start asking questions he couldn't answer. He needed to move it to a place only he knew perfectly, a controlled environment where he could slowly and invisibly absorb the wealth into his dimensional space.
Caleb walked out of the cell room, the heavy iron keys clinking in his pocket. He looked at Vincenzo, Silvio, and the newly recruited swamp guards who were staring at him with absolute reverence.
"Listen to me," Caleb barked, his voice echoing in the rafters of the rotting church. His tone was sharp, commanding, the voice of a CEO directing a massive logistical operation.
So he ordered everyone to put all of the lockboxes, chests, and crates inside the carriage.
"We are evacuating this chapel," Caleb declared. "Leave the contraband liquor and the cheap smuggled tobacco. We only take the hard assets. Grab the lockboxes from the inner vault first. Then move to the iron banded chests and the marked crates in the nave. Load them into the carriage."
Vincenzo blinked, looking at the sheer volume of wealth. "Boss, the carriage is built for luxury, not heavy freight. It won't hold all of this. The suspension will snap."
"Then load as many as they can," Caleb ordered ruthlessly. "Pack the cabin to the ceiling. Pile the lockboxes on the velvet seats. Tie the heavy chests to the roof racks and the rear luggage board. We push the horses to their limits. Whatever we cannot fit today, Lucan, you and your men will guard with your lives until I send a fortified wagon detail back for the rest tomorrow morning."
"Yes, Don McLaughlin!" Lucan shouted, immediately snapping into action, eager to prove his newly sworn loyalty. "You heard the Don! Get moving! Grab the heavy boxes first!"
The chapel erupted into a flurry of frantic, heavily sweating labor. Vincenzo, despite his wounded arm, barked orders and directed traffic.
Silvio, utilizing his massive, bear like strength, hauled heavy crates of silver and antiques onto his shoulders, carrying them out the front doors single handedly. The swamp guards worked tirelessly, hauling the heavy iron lockboxes filled with bearer bonds and land deeds out into the humid air.
Caleb stood by the carriage, overseeing the loading process with a critical eye, ensuring the most valuable assets from the inner cell were loaded first, packed securely onto the floorboards of the plush cabin. The pristine, velvet lined interior of Angelo Bronte's personal transport was quickly transformed into a heavily armored bank vault on wheels.
They packed it until the carriage groaned under the immense weight, the chassis sinking low over the axles.
Before they transported it back to the city, Caleb pulled Vincenzo and the driver aside to give them their specific routing instructions.
"We do not take this to the Garden District mansion," Caleb instructed, his voice low. "The perimeter there is still too exposed, and there are too many servants with loose lips. We take this back to my mansion in the north of the city."
He was referring to the heavily fortified Martelli estate, the fortress he had first claimed. It was secure, staffed only by his most deeply vetted loyalists, and entirely removed from the chaotic political center of Saint Denis.
"When we arrive," Caleb continued, giving precise logistical orders, "you will unload everything and put it on the second basement on the left side of the mansion."
The Martelli estate had a sprawling, subterranean cellar system. The second basement on the left side was a windowless, stone lined room with a heavy oak door, perfect for temporary, highly secure storage.
"Where it will be placed in my mansion first," Caleb finalized, his mind already churning through the next phases of his grand design. He would keep the bulk of the wealth there, safely hidden behind his own walls and his own loyal guards. And over the next few weeks, in the dead of night, he would quietly filter the most valuable items directly into his system inventory.
"As I will think of a safe place inside the city to legally store it later," Caleb added aloud, providing a plausible cover story for Vincenzo and the men. "I am going to purchase a legitimate bank. But until then, it stays in the dark, under my roof."
"Understood, Boss," Vincenzo nodded, his eyes wide with the sheer scale of the operation. "The northern estate. The second basement."
"Let's move," Caleb ordered, climbing up into the front box to sit beside the driver, as the interior of the carriage was completely packed floor to ceiling with iron boxes and treasure chests. Silvio climbed up to sit on the roof, his heavy repeating shotgun resting across his lap, scanning the tree line for any threats.
The driver cracked the whip. "Hyah!"
The four white horses strained violently against their harnesses, their muscles bulging as they pulled the incredibly heavy, treasure laden carriage out of the mud of the graveyard.
They left the rotting chapel behind, rolling slowly but steadily back through the twisting, moss draped paths of the bayou.
Caleb sat on the driver's bench, the humid wind whipping against his face, feeling the immense, physical weight of the gold and bonds riding right behind his back.
As the dense trees of the swamp finally broke, revealing the distant, smog stained skyline of Saint Denis, the era of the Thorne corporate empire was about to begin, and he had all the capital in the world to fund it.
The heavy, groaning carriage, pushed to the absolute limits of its suspension, made a grueling, painfully slow ride back toward civilization. Every rut in the mud track threatened to snap an axle, but the driver, sweating profusely under the pressure of his cargo and his passengers, navigated with desperate, white knuckled precision.
Eventually, the soft, treacherous mud of the bayou firmed up into the packed dirt roads of the city's outskirts, and finally, onto the solid, unforgiving cobblestones of Saint Denis proper. They bypassed the bustling, chaotic center of town, taking the wider, quieter avenues that led west.
They headed toward Caleb's mansion at the west part of the city. As the imposing, high stone walls of the Martelli estate finally came into view, a collective sigh of relief seemed to pass through the vehicle.
When they reached there, the heavy iron gates were immediately opened for them by the perimeter guards, who quickly stepped aside, saluting as the overburdened carriage entered through the archway.
The wheels crunched loudly over the circular gravel driveway, the exhausted white horses practically staggering as the carriage finally rolled to a complete stop near the grand marble steps of the main entrance.
Caleb got off first, swinging down from the driver's bench with practiced ease, his boots hitting the gravel. He stretched his back, leaning heavily on his silver tipped cane, before turning to open the cabin door.
Vincenzo and Silvio followed through, spilling out of the velvet lined interior like men escaping a collapsed mine. They were sweating heavily, gasping, and clearly relieved to get some fresh air.
Considering that inside the carriage it was very hot, combined with the humid Louisiana sun beating down on the black lacquered roof, it had been a suffocating oven. And also, the space was incredibly small.
The cabin was packed so densely with iron lockboxes and rigid wooden chests that the two large capos had been forced to contort themselves into agonizingly uncomfortable positions.
Throughout the brutal, bumpy ride, the two of them had made sure to compress themselves against the doors so that their Don would have received the biggest sitting area possible, ensuring none of the heavy cargo shifted and crushed him.
"Christ," Vincenzo muttered, ripping his tie loose and wiping his slick forehead with his good arm. "I'd rather take another bullet than ride in that box again."
Silvio groaned, stretching his massive arms above his head, his joints popping loudly. "I think a chest of silver was bruising my kidney for the last three miles."
Caleb offered them a rare, genuine smile of appreciation for their endurance. He didn't waste time on pleasantries, however. The cargo was vulnerable while it sat in the open courtyard.
Meanwhile, Caleb at this time turned and called for the guards. His voice cut sharply across the manicured lawns.
Almost instantly, around five people immediately gathered. They were the hardened, loyal soldiers stationed at the estate, men who had proven their worth during the transition of power.
When they heard being called by their Don, they broke into a light jog, arriving at the base of the marble steps and standing at attention, their weapons slung securely over their shoulders.
"Don McLaughlin," the lead guard acknowledged respectfully.
Caleb, seeing them lined up, pointed his cane toward the groaning carriage. He goes to order them to go and take out all of the lockboxes, chests, and crates inside.
"Unload it," Caleb commanded, his tone brisk and absolute. "Every single piece. And have it be moved to the basement on the left side of the mansion."
Caleb stepped closer to the lead guard, his blue eyes hardening into a cold, terrifying glare. He needed to ensure absolute compartmentalization. "Separate from the cellar where Angelo Bronte is currently being held. Do not take it anywhere near him."
He lowered his voice, letting his maxed out Leadership and Persuasion Skill enforce the deadly seriousness of his next instruction. "And understand this perfectly, you are to move them, stack them, and lock the door. You are to never open a single box or chest. If a latch is broken, if a single hinge is lifted, I will know. And you will not live to see the sunset. Am I understood?"
Hearing that chilling order, the five guards didn't hesitate for a microsecond. They immediately nodded their heads rapidly, the blood draining slightly from their faces. Receiving their order with absolute clarity, they replied in unison, "Yes, Don McLaughlin! Not a single box will be opened!"
The guards immediately broke formation and rushed to the carriage, hauling the heavy doors open and beginning the grueling process of manhandling the immense wealth out of the velvet interior and carrying it toward the secure subterranean entrances.
Meanwhile, Caleb turned his attention back to his two exhausted capos. The job was far from finished.
"I need you to make several trips," Caleb instructed, his mind operating like a relentless logistical machine. "Take the carriage back into the swamp. Keep pushing until the vault is entirely empty. I want to ensure that everything there is cleared out before nightfall. I don't want a single gold nugget left in that mud for scavengers."
Vincenzo sighed, rubbing his sore shoulder, but nodded dutifully. Silvio just cracked his knuckles, ready for the heavy lifting.
Before they departed, Caleb added one final, crucial tactical order regarding the men holding the line at the rotting church.
"And also," Caleb told them, "tell Lucan and the guards there that they are officially relieved of swamp duty. When the last box is loaded, they are to ride back with you. Tell them that they will be stationed as my personal guards now, inside this mansion."
Caleb looked around the sprawling estate. "Their skills are definitely top notch. They survived three years of isolation and paranoia. They are disciplined. And for securing this mansion against any remaining Bronte loyalists or ambitious rivals, that level of discipline is exactly what is needed."
Both Vincenzo and Silvio nodded their heads, agreeing with the strategic assessment. Bringing the hardened swamp guards into the inner circle was a brilliant move, it rewarded their new loyalty instantly and fortified the Don's personal safety with men completely disconnected from the city's corrupting politics.
They boarded the carriage immediately, squeezing back into the velvet interior, which now felt vastly more spacious without the mountain of gold.
The driver, having taken a long pull from his canteen, grabbed the reins once more. He drove the carriage out from the mansion, the wheels crunching loudly as the empty vehicle bounced lightly over the gravel, heading back out toward the grueling western tracks.
With the first massive haul secured on his property, Caleb, of course, went to the basement to personally oversee the storage.
He walked down the narrow, stone lined steps into the cool, subterranean depths of the estate. The air down here was dry and smelled faintly of aged stone and dust.
He arrived at the second basement on the left, a large, windowless room with thick foundation walls. The guards were currently placing the items there, grunting under the immense weight of the iron banded chests and the lockboxes filled with bearer bonds. They stacked them neatly in the center of the room, far away from any damp walls, treating the cargo with terrified reverence.
...
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: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 286,492 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: -