In the halls of Crewe, where the hands of skilled craftsmen toil in quiet reverence, there was born a steed of metal and paint, a chariot unlike any that had ridden the roads of Men. It was the Flying Spur, cloaked in a mantle of shifting hue, wrought by the ancient art of Ombré by Mulliner, passed down through the ages of Bentley lore.

At its fore, the colour shone as Topaz Blue, bright as the morning sun upon the western hills. And at its stern, a deep Windsor Blue lay like the shadowed waters of a hidden lake at eventide. Between these realms, the hues met and mingled, flowing across doors and sills and roof as though the very winds had painted them, a seamless blending wrought by mortal hands but touched by the artistry of the ages.

Two masters laboured, forty and twenty hours spent in careful communion with their craft. Each stroke, each spray, was a deliberation with fate itself, for the colours, like rivers, had their own will. And yet the artisans guided them, shaping them to sing in harmony, so that no discordant shade might arise to mar the perfection.

Other combinations awaited, treasures of Sunburst Gold to Orange Flame and Tungsten to Onyx, chosen as if by the counsel of elven sages, each pair tested for balance, each transition ordained to flow without the creation of an unwanted hue.

Thus was this noble Flying Spur revealed to the world, at the Southampton International Boat Show, its passage heralded as the sun touches the sea. It followed the path of its elder sibling, the Continental GT, which had first borne this secret craft at Monterey, among the gatherings of men who love speed and beauty alike.

And lo, it is decreed that more shall come, each car a tale in itself, each paint finish a verse in the song of Bentley, that mortal hands may render eternal, and fleeting beauty may dwell a little while longer in the world of Men.