The Crossroads

[Azan27]

Somewhere in Dublin, a Templar sat, a long distance away from any orbital body, its engine killed, and running on minimal power. It was there that Richard Hastings was seated in his Sunday best, waiting for the right moment...
*Beep...* *Beep...* His neural net schedual had just signaled that an event was about to start.
*That'd be Clay's wedding,* he though to himself. *The ceremony must just be starting.*
*No matter...* though Richard. He hadn't planned on making it to the ceremony anyways. He intended to arrive unfashonably late, in the true Hastings manner. Besides, he had a job to do; that ment he had at least some sort of excuse for his tardyness.

It had been just a few days earlier, at Capitan (now Commodore, as Richard had to remind himself) Clay's Stag party. It was a little thing, just a few of the Armed Forces chaps who had happened to be in the bar that night... One thing had led to another, and eventually Richard had ended up shirtless, hugging Clay vigorously, and promising to do him a "favor." That favor consisted of one bottle of #607 "Expansionist" Whiskey.

"Expasionist" whiskey, or "Ol' Black" as it was fondly known on Cambridge, was hands down the rarest and most sought after whiskey in western Bretonia. During its time, only 1000 bottles had been produced, and the last remaining crate had resided in the personal residence of one Edmund Graves, the now famously deceased Lord of Graves station. The main problem with procuring a bottle of Ol' Black laid in the fact that the Molly rebels, when they had first risen up against Lord Graves, had decided to make off with the stuff, presumibly for "celebration" later on in the day. Three hours and one minefield later, and the crate been lost amongst a freighter's debree, leaving it to be looted, scavanged, and scattered across half of Sirius. Richard had been lucky enough to pick up a tip that one of the mythical bottles was currently residing in a Junker outpost, some ways north of the Battleship Hood.

Richard looked down, adjusted his scanner, and checked his bowtie. He might miss the ceremony, but by all that he held sacred, Richard swore that he would have the bottle for Clay before the party was out.

---

Let it burn.