The first Minister’s motorcade swept into Burry Port like a ghost in the night. The fifty strong mini-army glided past fishermen’s cottages and retirement homes with cat like stealth. The motorcycle outriders, a mysterious and silent force, powered by technologies unleashed by the Rosetta stone text, drew the five ton armoured limousine behind them. SAS veterans to a man, the fiercely loyal force worked as one to ferry their leader safely to his chosen destination.
Burry Port lay sleeping as First Minister The Rt Hon Carwyn Jones AM drew up plans to wake the nation from it’s centuries long slumber. He stepped onto the quayside and was immediately surrounded by a swarm of security. Each knew their job and would gladly stop a bullet for the man they knew in their hearts was the saviour of the nation they loved. Brushing them aside he clambered down towards the water. As he did so he ripped strands of wild rocket from the bank and sniffed at them. This was the place. His hands alone could find the gravel of destiny. He alone could decipher the clues that would take them to their next destination.
Gesturing for his security detail to stand back, he inched towards the water. They shifted nervously and eyed the surrounding buildings. One shot, one lone gunman could end the hopes of a nation. An age past as they waited and waited. After what seemed like hours Carwyn emerged from the shadows and spoke. The words echoed around the quay and struck terror into the hearts of men who had seen the worst that war had to offer.
“We must seek out The Golden Badger of Wrexham“.