Epilogue

Epilogue:

An internal letter from Montero’s Malt. Written on the back of a shipment manifesto of recent received goods. Undated.

Maggie Montero,

I keep getting creeps about our newest investor. I know that he has been bringing us the best amount of profit in 10 years, but does he always have to use our vats at night? Even with the newest lights, one match strike will put a hole deeper than hell into Mammon’s Gulch.

His requests are getting weird as well. First it was unusual ingredients that were tracked down back from Louisiana, but now he wants freshly flayed pigs? We aren’t butchers, we’re distillers. When I’m placed on watch for the night, I can hear our vats churning and making groans that don’t sound normal. And the smell, god it’s enough to make me go back to Oro Gordo. 

Just promise me that this “Mr. Chary” you keep talking about will be done by the end of the year. Him and his strange companions have now place to run us out of business. 

Sincerely,

Matthew Clarke