“Excuse me,” the barkeep returned. “I did not mean to eavesdrop, but you are Dax, son of Vyncent?” “How… that’s my father. How do you know that?” Dax felt himself growing numb, overtaken by curiosity. “I have a letter for you. I’ll be right back.” There was a wax seal on the back, but the seal had no emblem. Dax pulled out his hunting knife and in one swift motion sliced off the top of the envelope. The letter fell to the table face-up. He didn’t dare touch it, but began to read it aloud.