In reality, this was the norm in the American West. In this era of rising capital and a nascent America, chaos was the only main theme.
Gunshots echoed daily, and gang fights and drug dealers selling opium on the streets were common sights.
It was incredibly normal for ordinary people to be killed when they went out.
The game's perspective, focusing on Arthur, the West's most formidable outlaw, might make it seem like the West wasn't that chaotic. But from an ordinary person's perspective, traveling far often meant potential death.
The man Arthur was holding looked at his dead companion beside him, feeling the pain in his fingers. All his arrogance vanished. He looked at Arthur and pleaded, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Please let me go! Please, for the sake of me working for Mr. Bronte, let me go!"
"Oh! Alright, sir... Ah, for our people, I actually can't do that!" Arthur stabbed the man through the neck and then threw his body to the ground.
Only then did his gaze turn to Dutch.
"Oh, Dutch, this shouldn't count as causing trouble, right?"
Dutch chuckled and nodded, "Yes, Arthur, it doesn't count as causing trouble. But I think we might have a little bit of trouble, but it's alright. We can only hope Mr. Bronte is sensible enough not to bother us."
Dutch was unconcerned and led the group into the city.
Not wanting to provoke Bronte was due to avoiding trouble, not out of fear of him.
They, the Van der Linde gang—a bunch of fools, madmen, and desperadoes—had never had anything that could scare them.
At worst, they would just start over.
If Mr. Bronte truly wasn't sensible, Dutch wouldn't mind making him quietly disappear on a rainy night.
Even if it affected their plans.
Arthur, Hosea, Charles, and a few girls followed Dutch's pace. Hosea walked to Dutch's left rear, Arthur walked to Dutch's right rear, and the group grandly walked through the long street.
Hosea had a slight worry. He looked at the unconcerned Dutch and asked, "Oh, Dutch, who is Bronte?"
Dutch mused for a moment, glanced at the curious expressions of the others, and then said, "Bronte? Let me put it this way, Hosea, Bronte is a member of the Italian Mafia, the representative of a Mafia family in Saint Denis.
He should control some of Saint Denis's illicit businesses, Hosea.
For example, we rob and kill, wandering the West. Mr. Bronte, however, makes a living from prostitutes, opium, and some casinos. The two who were just killed were probably Bronte's men responsible for finding prostitutes.
But clearly, they found the wrong people."
Listening to Dutch's words, Hosea visibly relaxed.
He now highly valued Dutch's plan, especially as the gang's life was clearly flourishing. So he didn't want any problems to disrupt Dutch's plans.
He had previously feared that Bronte was a big shot in Saint Denis, an official figure, or even a senator, which caused him some worry.
But now that he knew Bronte wasn't much different from them, he naturally had little concern.
Arthur, John, and Charles were completely unconcerned. They didn't care what Bronte was or what his status was; as long as Dutch said to take him on, they would definitely go straight for it.
"Actually, Hosea, if this plan of ours fails, my other plan is to transform our gang into an underground Mafia gang like Bronte's.
Times are advancing, Hosea, and civilization is developing. The life of a desperado will eventually come to an end. Brutality, slaughter, and sin can no longer represent the West. All sins and ugliness will be buried beneath the body of civilization, and can only hide within the body of civilization.
Even though sin will never decrease, it has reached a point where it must be hidden. Because rules will come with civilization."
Dutch's words prompted reflection among the group.
The people who came along this time were inherently introspective. Whether it was Hosea, Arthur, John, or even Charles, they all had a very distinct quality in the story: they reflected on things.
In contrast, Bill, Javier, Micah, and even Mac and David, never reflected on themselves or their problems.
This point was very thought-provoking in the story.
It took the group half an hour to arrive at the coffee shop arranged with Ms. Dorothea.
When Dutch led the group in, Ms. Dorothea and three other ladies were already waiting for their arrival inside.
"Oh, Mr. Arthur! Dear Mr. Arthur, you've finally arrived!" Ms. Dorothea greeted him with a smile.
"Oh, and Mr. John and Mr. Hosea, hello, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Ms. Dorothea greeted Arthur and Hosea, while also looking at Charles and the girls behind Dutch.
Dutch smiled and gently shook hands with Ms. Dorothea, then introduced, "Oh, Ms. Dorothea, I apologize for keeping you waiting. You know, my factory has been under construction recently, but thankfully it's now completed, and I can fulfill my promise to you.
These girls behind me are here to communicate with our female workers. Oh, this is Miss O'Shea, my... wife. Miss O'Shea is also a strong supporter of the women's rights movement, and I think you'll have more to talk about.
Oh, these three ladies behind you are..."
Dutch's gentlemanly demeanor and grace made the eyes of the three ladies behind Ms. Dorothea sparkle.
Although Dutch was already forty-one, his bearing and charm were truly evident at all times. Even if he wasn't particularly handsome, he clearly stood out in a crowd.
Such men were most favored by these ladies, because they immediately knew such a man must be capable.
Ms. Dorothea smiled and extended her hand, pointing to the three ladies behind her to introduce them to Dutch.
"Oh, Mr. Arthur, this is Miss Camille, Camille Morgan."
Miss Camille looked noble and elegant. She appeared to be the youngest among the four ladies, with typical white woman features: deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, and no freckles on her face, whether due to good skincare or naturally clear skin.
She looked to be in her twenties, very well-preserved, but her actual age was likely over thirty, as she already wore a wedding ring.
At this moment, her beautiful face watched Dutch with interest. Although the man's attire and demeanor exuded a hint of elegance, both he and the people behind him carried a strong aura of violence that even their appearance and behavior couldn't conceal.
This kind of aura was something she had never encountered in her previous life.
Those in high society were either supposedly gentlemen, or gentlemen who subtly revealed a hint of ruthlessness and vulgarity, or else they were pot-bellied, disgusting, ugly, and mean-spirited, yet self-proclaimed gentlemen, appearing out of place.