The Story

The Legend of Jalisco.

In the heart of Jalisco, nestled among the rolling hills and dense agave fields, a legend began to take shape—a tale of a wolf named Reylobo, who became both feared and revered, a guardian of something more precious than gold, something that could only be sipped and savored—Tequila.

It all began during the reign of King Esteban I, a monarch known for his ambition and his deep obsession with rare luxuries. Among the many treasures that adorned his royal palace, the king harbored a singular passion—Jalisco’s agave fields, which he had cultivated for years in secret. No one outside his inner circle knew, but the king had discovered a unique strain of agave that grew only in the highlands of the region, a plant with rich, earthy flavors that made the finest tequila in the world. He had given it a name—*El Elíxir Real*—and vowed it would be the crown jewel of his dynasty, the drink of kings and emperors.

But there was a problem. The agave used for El Elíxir Real was rare, and the plants grew slowly, only producing enough to fill a few bottles every year. No one in the kingdom knew how the king managed to produce such an exclusive liquor, but rumors swirled that he had a secret ally—an ancient guardian of the land, a wolf.

Reylobo, as he was called, was no ordinary wolf. He was a creature of the mountains, a spectral beast with eyes that gleamed like molten silver under the moonlight. It was said that Reylobo had lived for centuries, his fur a mixture of silver and midnight black, his body built for agility and strength. His loyalty, however, was to the agave fields, and he would do anything to protect them. Farmers and villagers had long whispered of a mysterious wolf who appeared out of nowhere when poachers came near the agave plantations, driving them away with howls that sounded like the wind itself.

One fateful night, the king invited a select group of nobles to his palace for a rare tasting of *El Elíxir Real*, the tequila he had been brewing in secret for decades. It was the first time he would unveil his treasure to the world—his finest creation, an elixir that could command untold fortunes.

But as the royal entourage gathered in the grand hall, something unexpected happened. A blood-curdling howl echoed through the night, and the doors to the palace were flung open. Reylobo had arrived, but this time, he was not there to protect. He was there to claim.

The guests froze as the massive wolf, eyes gleaming with ancient fury, stepped into the room. His fur shimmered in the candlelight, and his presence filled the space with an unearthly weight. The king, who had always seen himself as untouchable, stepped forward, declaring, "This is *my* kingdom, and no beast shall take what is mine."

But Reylobo was no ordinary wolf, and the king was no match for him. With one swift leap, Reylobo lunged at the king, knocking him to the ground. The nobles screamed, but they were paralyzed with fear. The beast was swift, and before anyone could react, the king was gone—devoured in a single, brutal strike.

The palace descended into chaos, but Reylobo remained, his eyes scanning the room. He moved to a hidden cabinet where the king’s personal stash of *El Elíxir Real* was kept, the bottles carefully stored in velvet-lined crates. Reylobo sniffed the air and, with a graceful paw, nudged one of the bottles closer to his mouth. He took a slow, deliberate drink from the bottle, savoring the richness of the agave nectar, its smoothness, and its depth.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The nobles who had witnessed the horror of the king’s demise now saw a new king in the form of Reylobo, the wolf who had protected the agave fields and, in doing so, had claimed the king’s most coveted treasure.

Reylobo’s actions that night were not just about the king. They were about the land, the agave, and the future of Jalisco itself. He had protected the secret of the rare agave for generations, and now, he had claimed his due. The king’s personal reserve, *El Elíxir Real*, would no longer belong to a human dynasty. It belonged to the land, to the spirit of the agave, and to the wolf who had guarded it for so long.

As dawn broke, the nobles found the palace in ruins. The king’s body was gone, and in his place, a single bottle of tequila remained on the throne, its label now bearing the mark of Reylobo—a wolf’s pawprint, stamped in wax.

The story of Reylobo spread like wildfire, becoming a whispered legend that transcended generations. It was said that on the nights when the full moon rose high over Jalisco’s hills, if you stood in the agave fields, you could still hear the howls of Reylobo echoing through the air, a reminder that the agave was sacred, and that it would always be protected by the spirit of the wolf.

The tequila, too, became legendary. Though produced in limited quantities, it was considered the ultimate symbol of rarity and prestige. Those fortunate enough to taste it felt as though they had glimpsed the spirit of Jalisco itself—wild, untamed, and timeless.

And so, Reylobo, the wolf who ate a king, became a myth, a protector of the land, and the living embodiment of Jalisco's most precious treasure: its agave. The *El Elíxir Real* was no longer just a king’s reserve—it was a drink worthy of the gods, and it was forever tied to the legend of Reylobo, the wolf who guarded Jalisco’s agave and drank the king’s spirit.