AWB Chapter 476 476: 449. The Lemoyne Unified Press Built
Chapter 476 476: 449. The Lemoyne Unified Press Built
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!)
...
Her small, trembling hand found Caleb's, and she squeezed his fingers with all the strength she possessed. Caleb squeezed back gently, a soft, loving smile meant only for her gracing his lips. The war for the underworld was won, the legitimate corporate foundation was laid, and now, the brilliant, beautiful storyteller of the Van der Linde gang was unofficially, undeniably, become the most powerful and wealthiest author of the Gilded Age.
The gentle splashing of the marble fountain and the distant chirping of mockingbirds filled the silence left in the wake of Caleb's staggering ultimatum.
While the three newly allied publishing executives tremblingly raised their crystal flutes of expensive champagne to their lips, desperate for the alcohol to calm their shattered nerves, the true emotional core of the morning was happening quietly on the other side of the glass table.
Mary-Beth leaned slightly closer to Caleb. Her posture remained outwardly poised and aristocratic, perfectly fitting the 'Alice McFarlane' persona she had adopted for the high society guests, but beneath that polished exterior, she was vibrating with an overwhelming, almost terrifying sense of joy. She kept her face perfectly composed, but her voice, when she spoke, was barely more than a breathless, fragile whisper meant for his ears alone.
"Caleb..." Mary-Beth whispered, her dark eyes searching his face, practically pleading for him to ground her in reality. "Is this real? Is this actually happening? My book... my words... they are going to be published? For the entire world to read?"
Caleb looked down at her, the cold, calculating mask of the mafia Don vanishing completely. The terrifying predator who had just bent three of the wealthiest men in Lemoyne to his absolute will was replaced by the deeply affectionate, fiercely protective man who had promised her the stars.
He nodded his head slowly, a warm, profoundly reassuring smile spreading across his handsome face. Beneath the table, out of sight of the publishers, he gently patted her trembling hand, his strong fingers wrapping around hers to anchor her.
"Yes, sweetheart. It is entirely real," Caleb murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble that sent a wave of electric warmth straight through her chest. "It will happen. And it is going to be magnificent."
Mary-Beth bit her lower lip, a sudden wave of humility washing over her. She looked at the towering stacks of the magical series sitting on the table. "But Caleb... the wizarding books. The boy who lived. That massive, incredible world... it was your idea. You came up with the magic, the schools, the plot twists. I just wrote down what you told me."
Caleb immediately shook his head, refusing to let her diminish her own monumental achievement. He squeezed her hand tighter, his blue eyes locking onto hers with absolute, unwavering sincerity.
"The initial spark may have been my idea, Mary-Beth," Caleb corrected her gently. "But an idea is just smoke until someone gives it shape. You breathed life into those pages. You added your own brilliant touch to the narrative, especially in the romance departments, giving those characters a depth and a heartbeat that I could never have replicated. You structured the prose, you painted the scenery with your words, and you were the one who sat by the lamplight for months and wrote every single letter of it."
He raised his free hand, lightly tracing the line of her jaw. "So it is yours, Mary-Beth. It is also yours by right. You earned this empire with your own two hands."
Hearing that profound, undeniable validation from the man she loved more than anything in the world, the last remnants of her anxiety completely dissolved.
Mary-Beth let out a radiant, breathtaking smile, a single tear of pure joy managing to escape and track down her cheek before she discreetly wiped it away. "Thank you, Caleb," she whispered softly, her heart soaring into the stratosphere.
Meanwhile, as the Don and his Lady shared their quiet, incredibly intimate moment, the three heads of the publishing houses were engaged in a frantic, hushed conference of their own.
Having taken a long, desperate sip of the vintage champagne Antonio had provided, Archibald Vance, Arthur Sterling, and Thaddeus Beauregard leaned their heads together.
The bitter rivalry that had almost caused them to tear each other's throats out just minutes prior was now forced into a tense, highly uncomfortable alliance. They were talking with one another, their voices hushed urgent murmurs as they tried to figure out the immediate logistics of their new, mafia-backed conglomerate.
"We need a unified front," Beauregard muttered, wiping his balding head with a silk handkerchief. "He expects a syndicate. We cannot process the raw materials or manage the distribution networks without a legally binding umbrella corporation to handle the finances."
"Agreed," Sterling whispered, glancing nervously at Caleb, who was currently occupied with his Madam. "They talked about the name of the syndicate first, since they can't just form it without a proper title. It needs to reflect the prestige of all three of our houses, or the market will think we've been victims of a hostile takeover."
"Which we have," Vance hissed bitterly, though he kept his voice so low it was practically inaudible. "But we are going to be obscenely rich victims. What do we call it? The Lemoyne Literary Alliance?"
Caleb, whose max level Perception allowed him to hear every single frantic whisper despite the splashing of the nearby marble fountain, leaned back in his wrought-iron chair. He took a slow sip of his black coffee. He genuinely didn't care about the branding.
He didn't care if they called it the Saint Denis Book Club or the Golden Goose Press. As long as they were completely on the same page, operated with absolute transparency, and didn't give him or Mary-Beth any financial losses, he wouldn't do anything but wait for the money to roll in.
"Don't overthink the stationery, gentlemen," Caleb called out smoothly, interrupting their hushed debate. "The name is entirely secondary to the product. Just pick something that looks good embossed in gold leaf."
The three men jumped slightly, realizing the Don had been listening the entire time. They quickly huddled closer, exchanging rapid fire suggestions. In the end, they agreed on a name which represented the historical weight and the combined power of the three publishing houses.
"Don McLaughlin," Beauregard spoke up, acting as the de facto spokesman for the newly minted syndicate. "We have come to a consensus. We shall operate under the banner of the Lemoyne Unified Press. It honors our heritage while signaling a new, unprecedented era of cooperation."
Caleb nodded his head, a cold, highly calculating smirk touching his lips. Seeing this, he said, "Good. Lemoyne Unified Press. It has a solid, authoritative ring to it. And this is exactly what you should do."
Caleb stood up from his chair, his tall, broad shouldered frame casting a long shadow over the glass table. He began to pace slowly behind his chair, stepping fully into the role of a visionary corporate titan.
"Because now," Caleb promised, his voice ringing with absolute, terrifying ambition, "I will help this new syndicate to become the only three publishing houses in the entire country in the future."
The executives froze, their champagne glasses halfway to their mouths. They stared at Caleb, trying to comprehend the sheer, monumental scale of what he was proposing.
"You think this arrangement stops at the borders of Saint Denis?" Caleb asked, his eyes sweeping over the three men. "No. We are creating an absolute monopoly on the industry. With the capital generated from my Madam's books, and the physical muscle of my organization, we will systematically buy out, bankrupt, or entirely absorb every other independent printer on the eastern seaboard. In five years time, anyone who wants to print a newspaper, a novel, or a textbook in this country will only be able to choose between the three of you. Because there will be absolutely no others."
The sheer magnitude of that promise struck the executives like a physical blow. A total, nationwide monopoly. It was illegal, it was ruthless, and it was the most beautiful thing they had ever heard. The fear of the mafia was entirely swallowed by the intoxicating, dizzying prospect of infinite corporate power.
Caleb then continued, bringing the conversation back to the immediate, practical logistics of the day. He gestured toward the massive, meticulously tied stacks of handwritten manuscripts sitting on the table.
"But first, we must build the foundation," Caleb instructed. "I will give all of the first manuscripts and books to you today. You will take them back to your respective headquarters to be copied by your master typewriters tonight. The typesetting process must begin immediately."
Vance reached out eagerly, his hands trembling with greed, ready to take the first stack of the magical series.
But Caleb raised a single, leather gloved hand, completely halting the executive's movement. The atmosphere on the sunlit porch instantly dropped twenty degrees.
"However," Caleb warned, his voice a lethal, vibrating hum that sent shivers down their spines. "These manuscripts represent the crown jewels of my family's empire. I will not let them out of my sight without adequate insurance. Therefore, I will also send my capos and a contingent of my elite soldiers to accompany you."
The blood drained from Vance's face. "Your... your soldiers, Don McLaughlin? Inside the printing rooms?"
"Yes," Caleb stated, his gaze unyielding. "They will stand at the doors of your typesetting rooms. They will watch your workers. They are there to make absolutely sure that no one, not a greedy clerk, not a rival publisher's spy, and certainly not any of you, dares to steal these books or copy them to make it theirs before the copyrights are formally locked."
Caleb offered a cold, highly unconvincing smile. "Rest assured, gentlemen, this is just for security matters. My men are highly disciplined professionals. They wouldn't create any trouble whatsoever... unless the interests of my family and my Madam are being taken advantage of."
The underlying threat was crystal clear. If a single page went missing, if a single unauthorized copy was leaked to the press before the official launch, the printing houses would be burned to the ground with the executives inside them.
The three men, hearing that chilling condition, could only swallow hard and nod their heads in rapid agreement. There was absolutely nothing they could say to reject it. Because the Don was merely protecting his highly valuable interests, and a rejection of his security detail would only result in them being heavily suspected by the Don of planning a theft.
"Of course, Don McLaughlin," Sterling squeaked out, wiping his sweating forehead. "We welcome your security detail. We want to ensure the absolute integrity of the Madam's work just as much as you do."
"Excellent. Then the deal is done," Caleb declared, clapping his hands together once, the sharp sound echoing across the garden.
As if summoned by magic, Antonio at this time returned to the back porch. The immaculate head butler stepped out from the mansion doors carrying a polished silver tray. Resting upon the velvet lined surface were four pieces of heavy, premium grade parchment, alongside a solid gold fountain pen and a crystal inkwell.
These were the formal, legally binding documents. Antonio had rapidly drafted them during the negotiation, utilizing the family's top retained lawyers.
The parchment contained the articles of incorporation for the approval of the Lemoyne Unified Press syndicate being built, and also, far more importantly, the exact terms of the deals belonging to Mary-Beth for the unprecedented seventy percent royalties of the books.
Antonio set the silver tray down on the glass table. "The contracts are prepared, Don McLaughlin. Madam McFarlane. Gentlemen."
On each parchment, the dense, meticulous legal jargon outlined the greatest literary heist in the history of the Gilded Age. Caleb gestured for the executives to step forward.
With trembling hands, the three heads of the publishing houses picked up the gold fountain pen. Vance signed his name first, followed by Sterling, and finally Beauregard. The scratching of the nib against the thick parchment was the sound of history being made. They were signing away their independence, but they were signing their names to an ocean of gold.
Once the executives had finished, Caleb took the pen. He didn't sign it himself; he handed the heavy gold instrument to the woman sitting beside him.
Mary-Beth took the pen, her fingers brushing against Caleb's. She looked down at the documents, her heart hammering in her chest. She also did the same.
She leaned forward and, with beautiful, elegant cursive, signed her name on the dotted line as the primary party who got the lion's share of the royalty. The four parchments were made so that everyone could get a copy each. Antonio expertly separated the documents, handing one rolled scroll to each of the three executives, and carefully placing the final, master copy into Caleb's waiting hand.
...
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: 285,392 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: -