There were dignitaries of other calibers, from corporation to military, think tank to charitable organization, the latter who were yet funded well enough to pay for the drinks all by themselves. Or is someone else buying them?
Maze mused as she sipped from her own. She was seated at the bar, enjoying the company of a bartender who asked no questions and needed none asked. He simply obliged the request, poured the brandy and let his patron drink in peace.
She sucked on the nectar, lingering on the subtle sweet taste of oak and fruit. There was no burn to this grade, not that the drinker had her qualms about a burn, but why settle for getting burned when you could control the fire?
It was a motto that her father had taught her throughout life, along with many mottos and mantras more, and here his daughter was: Mazeryl Xiron, Governor of Karazak, in the flesh. Pour the brandy, shut up and thank you very much.