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PRINCE OF BOURBON BOROUGH

In the end, they renounced activating a core in Philly but Rowan did trigger the one they claimed from the Eldritch Dungeon in Louisville. Being able to teleport between Elkins and Kentucky offered a faster way to scout for dungeons, and it also meant protecting one of the highest masterpieces of mankind: Bourbon, and his friends.

The System-assisted voting and tracing boundaries took all day because Rowan's wanted to incorporate as many and as good Bourbon distilleries as he could. When it was done, it was night, so they stayed with Jim and Gwen, also ensuring there were orcs and Italian military patrols all over the town, for security.

Nevertheless, instead of being able to leave early in the morning, the new polity's Council had scheduled a meeting to debate their future, and basic politeness demanded they stay. So, their sojourn prolonged into the early afternoon or the next day, with interminable debates and arguments held inside a conference room rented in an old but elegant hotel.

For what Rowan cared, it was a waste of time. At first, he wanted to appoint his friend as his representative and be rid of it. After all, if he was smart enough to run a distillery, Jim could run a small country, right? What could go wrong? But Jim had refused, settling for an advisory job in the Council, and Rowan had understood. Running a distillery was a dream job, running a bloody polity meant dealing with boring problems.

“They're ready,” Cora elbowed him.

“Uh?” he jerked, stirred from his half-slumber.

"The debate is finished. They're ready to present you with the new Constitution."

"Oh, my God… is it long?" Rowan's shoulders sagged.

"Just the basics," Cora reassured him.

“Purrfect…” Rowan yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“If you allow me to summarize, your Highness,” the president of the assembly rose, bowing toward Rowan, "we propose the name of our new country should be Bourbon Borough and your title Prince. After all, Bourbon and princes are related.”

“Mind not losing your head,” Isla joked, swinging her chair back and forth on the rear legs.

“I agree with your proposition," Rowan nodded his head. It was a good name and a good title, so he could start by showing magnanimity and accepting the suggestion.

Rowan Allinder, you are now Count of Cora County, Suzerain of Rome, Warchief of Goblin Town, Honorary Godfather of Calveor, Thane of The Swarthy Elves, and Prince of Bourbon Borough.

"We all want to thank you for choosing us. The situation was desperate. Bands of renegade military extorted us every other day, and… sorry, I will not burden us with our past problems. Does Your Highness have any suggestions for how we’re to proceed with governance?” the woman continued talking, keeping her respectful posture.

“Look, I’m a big fan of delegating, and not of all of micro-management. Do what you think is best. Except for the most important thing. Hear me out, people," Rowan raised his voice, getting on his feet. "This is a blessed place, hosting one of the masterpieces of humankind: Bourbon. As such, we should rise to the occasion and defend this legacy. Things cannot go on like before. Bourbon Borough will confiscate all multinationals' property and transform them into independent producers…

"Err… except if there's some multinational based in Rome or Vegas, 'cause it's ours… never mind. The rules will be tight. Any proof below eighty-six is to be illegal. No, make it ninety-two. No… it's too harsh… eighty-six it is, but that's it. We'll offer subsidies for non-chill filtering, barrel strength, and niche stuff. It goes without saying that sourcing should be prohibited.”

"For goodness sake, Rowan, you're turning Stalin on us," his friend, Jim, erupted. "Half my production is sourced from Indiana. There's nothing wrong with it, as long it's aged well here."

"I'm sorry…" Rowan sighed, "I got ahead of myself… I don't want to be a tyrant. Very well," he energized again. "Sourcing will not be prohibited but has to be mentioned on the label. And throw them in prison anyone who doesn't."

“Why don’t we allow Jim and the local people to sort it out?” Cora insisted, gently touching his arm to interrupt Rowan's dreams of Bourbon greatness. “We have to give the news to Viscardi, eventually.”

“True, true… well, sort it out but give me a report in a week. This is important. Ah… one more thing. Where’s Isla?” he turned his head around.

“I’m here,” the blonde snorted, five feet apart. “I just talked to you a moment ago.”

“Oh, you’re here… true… but you changed so much since you’re an artist… for a moment I thought you’re a fairy descended from heaven," Rowan awkwardly tried to dress up his mistake. "Listen, people, I would appreciate if Bourbon Borough's Council finds a central spot in town for my talented, and classy wife here to build a work of art, a sculpture or something. She's new at her job but she can't do worse than that modern stuff, right?"

“S-sure, your Highness.”

"Young man, can I say something?" an elderly gentleman interjected. "I'll be candid. I'm not into highnessing people, but I have the utmost respect for your achievements. Now, maybe I don't look my age, but I could be your grandfather and have been married for sixty years. If you want to offer your wife a gift, think big and choose it yourself. You know the town well, right?"

"That's genius!" Rowan exclaimed. "Thank you so much, sir! I'll ask one of my friends to bestow you a class, such wisdom should live long and spread to the next generations. Butler, make a note and remind me of this. Cora!"

"Sorry, can you repeat what you just said?" the Nekojin said. "I was texting with Viscardi, told him we'll visit."

"They have a lot of modern ugly buildings here. Why don't you and Isla work together to build some nice castles instead, sculptures and all?"

"I can?" The Nekojin clasped her hands together in a prayer-like gesture, her hair all fluffy and her tail up to the sky.

"It will be gorgeous," Isla promised. "I'll ask Dmitri for advice. And your father. And Lepastrina."

"Your Highness, but… err… we have commissioned those buildings to renowned architects, and—"

"No problem," Rowan waved his hand. "Butler, launch a System plebiscite in Bourbon Borough. Do you agree to replace all the ugly modernist shit in town with castles and nice pretty buildings? Offer a choice between Art Nouveau style, Romantic German, and… err…"

"Georgian colonial," Isla interjected.

"Brilliant. And Georgian colonial. My cute wife Cora will take care of the design and construction. I and my talented wife Grace will sing at the inauguration and the sculptures will be made by my wonderful wife Isla Culloden, legendary class The Artist."

Both Isla and Cora were beaming, and he kissed them on the cheek.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

[The Butler to all]: I'm pleased to announce that His Highness has won the vote with an impressive margin.

"See, guys, we have everything under control," an enthused Rowan said toward the Council, who, for whatever reason, was unanimously slack-jawed. "You're safe under our protection, and we'll build you the most exquisite center town you can dream of. Art Nouveau is the new art again. We really have to go now, but I can't wait to be back… Prince of Bourbon Borough… I'm so happy!"

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A WHIFF OF DECAY

Half an hour later, they entered a luxurious private lounge in Viscardi’s Casino-Castle. The Vampire Lord was playing poker with Victoria and her younger sister, Vera, plus a few men that couldn’t be anything else than Italian Mobsters, Rowan decided. One of them, in his thirties, had a weird empty stare. Like a dead fish, only menacing.

“Nice to see you, join us,” Viscardi offered. "Meet my friends, and Vito, my son-in-law, Vera's husband," he gestured at the blank-eyed mobster, who sketched a short nod, barely half an inch deep.

Rowan and his two wives took seats around the table, but the newly appointed prince shook his head, refusing the offer for a poker hand. “Sorry. Took a vow never to play poker again, after losing a bet and running naked around the factory… I was fired, of course.”

“You have to tell us more of your stories at some point," the Vampire smiled, leaning back on the sofa "Nice job, awakening Louisville. I have a feeling we'll do a lot of business together. Booze and the Cosa Nostra work hand in hand."

"As long you respect our new purity and proof law," Rowan said amiably, but with firmness and crisp clear wording. Bourbon was not to be messed with.

"A snack, a drink?” the Vampire said, gesturing to the plates on a nearby table and the bar.

“We're OK. Viscardi. I have bad news. Somebody stole the Detector.” Rowan said directly, and his mood plunged, losing all the enthusiasm he had gained over making Louisville an Awakened Town.

“Tell me more,” the Vampire Lord said.

“We were clearing a mini-dungeon and got dragged into an ambush. The Neeks kidnapped a couple of my friends to blackmail us, so we were a little… sloppy. The scouts who discovered the dungeon vanished, after replacing the Sensor with a real sparkplug.”

“Human scouts or Elves?” The Vampire inquired, frowning slightly.

“Humans, low level. We sent the police and checked their homes, but they were nowhere. We asked the families a few questions, analyzed their social media, emails. They didn't act strange or have any contact with third parties that we know about.”

“Hm… Do you still have it?”

“Yes, it’s in my inventory,” Cora said.

“Give it to me,” Viscardi forwarded his hand. The Vampire took the object, examining it with attention. He sniffed it twice, with each nostril, then took a cigarette lighter and held the object under the flame, inhaling the smoke. “As I thought. The scent is there.”

“What scent?” Cora asked.

“You see, my dear Engineer, I had a suspicion. Human scouts would not have been able to pickpocket someone with Nekojin perception and dexterity, I assume you’re ninety-nine in DEX, right?”

“Yes.”

“By the way, baby, you never showed me your stats,” Rowan said.

“I—”

“She didn’t show you her stats because they're pretty standard,” Viscardi interjected. “She’s one hundred in her main stat, which is INT, of course, and ninety-nine in the rest. That’s how youngsters role these days, farming APs in places like the Traipenent."

"It's true," Cora nodded. "Nevertheless, I worked hard to farm points not only in the Dungeons but from crafting quests too. This is how I developed my Interfacer subclass, and in the end, linked myself to Elkins's core.”

Rowan fondled her hand. "I'm lucky to have you, baby… I love you very much."

She melted, gluing herself to his shoulder. “I love you too, since the moment you guessed my real name, being miles apart, with me locked inside the bridge… No… I loved you even before that.”

“I applaud your acumen in finding a perfect husband, Lady Shemeows," the Vampire said, after clearing his throat to get their attention to the matters at hand. "Now, let’s return to our predicament. There was foul play. There’s a whiff of decay on that object, and the smoke’s scent is waxy… Those guys who stole the Sensor—”

“An old lady and a young man,” Rowan said.

“They were dead. The wax is a Necromancer's signature. Undead rot and that is easy to detect. But a freshly revived corpse, if coated in a special wax, can go on for years, and most of it, those who raised them can use the dead as an extension of their own body, enhancing their skills. That leads to another question. Necromancy is a forbidden lore only acquired on planets with wild Systems.”

“We had an Undead dungeon on the Traipenent,” Cora leaned her head, looking up like trying to remember something. “I don't know much about it. Never run it, my mother didn’t allow me.”

“She was wise. Dealing with the undead is emotionally challenging. We have to assume the Necromancer escaped from that dungeon.”

“And what do we do now?” Rowan asked. “Any way to track the Detector, baby?" he looked at Cora."

"Not so far I know...” she lowered her eyes.

“I'm confident you'll figure something out," Viscardi said. "You always do. Unfortunately," he sighed, "we have some bad news of our own. Victoria, why don't you tell them?”

The blonde Vampire grimaced, leaning back on her armchair and crossing her legs. “I went to Vladivostok, as ordered," she glanced at Rowan. "They did indeed have a plan to activate as many cores as possible and make themselves a new empire. I followed the Artifact User for a few days until she left town on an expedition, which I joined under a fake name… I had several identities there, long story, will not bother you with it.

"The thing is, in Russia… don’t laugh, it’s hilarious but it is what it is, people rather trust their central government, so they had to activate cores someplace where they had a chance to win the vote. The plan was to awaken Irkutsk, and then go to Kazakhstan and the Caucasus. We left toward Irkutsk, intending to cut through Inner Mongolia.

“Anyway, I had to make my move quickly, to arrive back in Vladivostok before she Rezzed, to kill her again, and for good. Last night, we slept in a bad Chinese hotel. We had a drink in the bar, and I poisoned her vodka. She falls unconscious, I pretend she’s drunk and carry her back to her room.

Now, as long as someone's unconscious, one can access their inventory, using Rogue skills, which I have. I pull up a lot of cores from her inventory, maybe six, maybe eight, I forgot. Many. Then she wakes up and activates every single core in one go. From spite, or because of the drug? No idea. I kill her, but too late. And then the new Awakened Town throws me out of the area because it detected my violent action, and I found myself deep in a jungle… don’t laugh, face to face with a giant crocodile.”

“You’re kidding me! How did you survive?” Rowan asked.

“I ran. It came after me… and believe me, they're not so slow. I was about to light up a cigarette when somebody shot the beast. A hunting party. We talked, and I found out I was in Africa, near their great Lakes, in a small country, and the guy who saved me was none other than the local dictator. A charming person, otherwise. He wants to… do business together, maybe we give him a core, once things are settled and Earth doesn’t explode. He flew me here on a private jet.”

“One sec. He came with you?” Rowan asked.

“Yes, to speak to you and Father in person. He's touring the Casinos for now.”

“I’d say to hear him out, but make time for Harbin too,” Cora said.

“What’s Harbin?” Rowan asked.

“It’s the new polity,” Cora said. “Quite big. When you killed that woman, they must have fused together and Awakened the area on default settings. They sent a message a few hours ago, but it went into the Spam folder. Here it is: 'Hi, we’re the newest Town Core in Town. We hope we can collaborate. Sincerely, the Harbin Republic.' Want me to tell them something?”

“Yeah, tell them: Dear Harbin Republic, I’m looking forward to our collaboration. Let’s have a Zoom at a time of your convenience. I’m sorry for not replying sooner, I was in a dungeon. Best regards, Count bla bla bla.”

“Count bla bla… joking, I put Count Rowan Allinder,” Cora said, texting. “Oh, they replied already. Thumbs up and a heart emoji.”

"Great," Viscardi said. "Let's recap. Bad thing: the Detector was stolen, and Vladivostok's Artifact user is probably Rezzed. Good things: Awakening Harbin consumed more than one core, so our count is still good. Now, if only we'd have a method to detect cores—"

"What the fuck?" Rowan blurted all of a sudden, almost falling from the couch.

"What's wrong?" Viscardi asked.

“I just received a weird quest… Forwarding.”

Leadership Quest.

A leader has to maintain a circle of trusted friends and allies. Speak with the following individuals and gain their sympathy:

Mobsters’ Group (Vito and his friends)

African Dictator

Inglotal, the Swarthy Elves tribe’s war chief

Spend time with each of them and increase your reputation by at least a tier. Gain as much knowledge from them as you can.

Reward:

1 Level and 1 free AP for each successful subquest.

+3 AP if all three subquests are successful.

???