Estate

At precisely ten in the morning, Valentine, usually a town of sleepy routines, was buzzing. This hour typically saw the Valentine Tavern largely quiet, a haven for early-morning melancholics, and the streets noticeably less populated than their boisterous evening counterparts.

But this period, this new era, was starkly different.

Compared to its usual somnolent atmosphere, the Valentine Tavern was, shockingly, a roaring hive of activity, people constantly surging in and out, a human tide. And it wasn't just the tavern; the streets themselves were a chaotic ballet of carriages, their numbers significantly swelled. Wagons, laden with large bags and small, bulging packages, continuously rumbled in from distant, dusty country roads. Some pulled directly up to the bank, their occupants spilling out, eager to purchase property, while others headed straight for the tavern, their faces alight with anticipation, to inquire about houses for rent or sale. At this moment, the same scene, a frantic scramble for housing, unfolded in every corner of the tavern.

"A glass of whiskey!" a man roared, tossing two glinting cents onto the counter with a loud clatter, his voice cutting through the din.

"Hey, coming!" the bar owner bellowed back, wiping his hands on a surprisingly clean rag. His eyes, however, darted nervously between the overflowing counter and the impatient faces. There were simply too many people demanding drinks, forcing him to serve those directly in front first. But to preempt any dissatisfied grumbling, he added, his voice strained but jovial, "Sir, you're also here to inquire about houses, aren't you?"

"Yes," the man replied, his gaze constantly sweeping across the faces of the men around him, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "When I just arrived, I saw three large wooden houses being built at the entrance of Valentine. Are those the schools that are going to be built?" When he had first entered, he'd been bombarded by the conversations of the excited patrons. An endless stream of people in this tavern were all here for the same reason: to inquire about houses.

Damn it, he thought, a cold knot forming in his stomach, this was not a good sign. This meant that all these eager, desperate people were families, drawn here by the tantalizing rumor that Valentine was building a school. With so many people, would there even be any spots left for his own children?

The bar owner burst into a roaring fit of laughter, his face splitting into a wide, joyous grin that seemed to banish all shadows. "Oh, sir, yes, indeed! That is the school built by the respectable Mr. Van der Linde! Our very own benefactor! He wants every child in every family in Valentine to be able to attend school for free! For absolutely nothing! Oh, sir, I never thought my own son would actually be able to go to school!" Tears, actual tears of unadulterated joy, welled in the bar owner's eyes.

"Damn it, this is simply a heaven-sent surprise! A miracle! I haven't slept for the past two days because I'm so happy, I swear to God! Hahaha, my son will also be able to make something of himself, you'll see! He'll be a gentleman!" The bar owner started laughing to himself, a booming, infectious sound, his face beaming with uncontained delight. He poured a little too much liquor into the glass in his hand, oblivious.

Every time he pictured his son, an educated man, going off to those grand cities to find a good, respectable job, he felt an overwhelming surge of joy. No one, absolutely no one, wanted their children to live in this damned, chaotic, and dangerous West, not a soul! Even the Governor of New Hanover, and indeed, the entire Senate, were damnably located in civilized cities closer to the East, nestled far away from the dangers of New Hanover.

And listening to the owner's impassioned words, the man was greatly, profoundly surprised. "What?" he exclaimed, his jaw dropping. "Letting the children in Valentine attend school for free?" His voice was a shocked whisper. A group of men, who had already gathered around, their ears pricked up, urged the owner to explain every single, minute detail of this miraculous school.

"Yes, sir, yes!" the bar owner confirmed, nodding vigorously. "In order for Valentine to develop better, and for all our lives to improve, Mr. Van der Linde has freely, generously, funded a school for us! Any family residing in Valentine can send their children to school for free, and they will also receive a graduation certificate recognized by the East! Oh, gentlemen, don't rush me, I know what you want to ask! Mr. Van der Linde has now built a cluster of brand new houses to the left of Valentine, specifically so that families like yours, who want their children to attend school, can live here and take good care of their children. So, if you want to rent or buy a house, you can go to the bank or the sales office right in front of those houses to inquire. I heard the current prices are not expensive at all; the monthly rent is only five dollars! And whether you rent or buy a house, you will receive a residence permit. With this residence permit, you can go to the police station to get identification documents as a Valentine resident, and then your children will be able to attend school for free in Valentine!"

The bar owner, practically bursting with pride, revealed every piece of news he knew, causing another massive wave of exclamations and excited commotion in the tavern. The men were utterly overjoyed. Their sole, desperate purpose in dragging their families thousands of miles across unforgiving terrain was to allow their children the chance to attend school.

They had even braced themselves for a significant financial outlay to secure school spots, preparing for the inevitable gouging. But they never, ever expected the news they received upon arrival: that schooling was free? Damn it, this news was simply insane! As for the so-called issue of renting or buying a house?

That was not a problem in the slightest. They had come here to settle down, to find a permanent home, and they never expected that not only was schooling free, but even houses had already been built, waiting for them! This was simply a heaven-sent windfall! This Mr. Van der Linde, this improbable outlaw, truly was a good man!

"Oh, by the way, gentlemen," the bar owner added, a sudden thought sparking in his eyes, "Mr. Van der Linde's factory is also hiring! Female garment workers, male transport workers and gunmen, and now they've also added a brand new mechanic position! If you want a job, you can go check it out – the pay is very high! My wife works as a female laborer at Hope Ranch; they provide food and lodging, and she can save twenty-five dollars a month! I heard that the wages for transport workers and mechanics can even reach fifty dollars a month!"

As soon as he uttered those words, the tavern completely erupted.

"Oh, shit!" a man shrieked, his eyes wide as saucers. "Such high wages? Damn it, my previous monthly wage was only fifteen dollars!"

"Oh, my goodness, who exactly is this 'Van der Linde'?" another whispered, almost reverently.

"Shit! 'Van der Linde'? Dutch Van der Linde? Damn it, isn't that the one from Blackwater Town who… who…?" Before the last man could finish his damning sentence, the bar owner, the bar staff, and the burly Valentine residents sitting at several surrounding tables all swiveled their heads, staring straight at him, their expressions cold, menacing. Three burly men, their faces grim, even walked directly over, flanking him, their presence a silent, terrifying threat.

"Yes… yes, it's that big boss from Blackwater, Master Van der Linde!" the man stammered, his body suddenly trembling. He changed his words so fast, you could almost hear his spine creak.

Just then, a commotion suddenly erupted outside the tavern, a collective gasp followed by shouts.

"Wow! Is that the army?!"

"Oh, shit! Van der Linde is taking the army out to suppress bandits!!!"

Shouts rang out from outside, causing the crowd in the tavern to surge forward, a human wave. Everyone rushed either out the door or pressed their faces against the windows, straining to see.

And as they gazed, an extremely shocking and profoundly alarming sight appeared before their very eyes.

Outside the tavern, on the main street of Valentine, a long, imposing procession of carriages came from a distance, almost stretching as far as the eye could see.

With eight people per carriage, this would require 60 carriages – a truly immense convoy.

And atop this long, rumbling procession of carriages sat grim-faced gunmen, dressed in uniform, holding sleek, deadly rifles. Their expressions were serious, their aura radiating a strong, palpable sense of killing intent, or as they could also be called: an army!

If it weren't for Van der Linde himself, riding proudly at the very front on a magnificent white horse, if it weren't for Sheriff Malloy and a contingent of Valentine's police officers clearing the path ahead, their expressions a mix of awe and terror, and if it weren't for people shouting all around, excitedly proclaiming that this was Van der Linde's 'bandit suppression team,' Valentine would probably have erupted into a full-blown riot at that very moment. The sheer sight of such a force was overwhelming.