The first letter bore the familiar handwriting of Emil.
"Hutson, I have a son! His name is Wayne Salla. And you, my friend, are his godfather. If you ever get the chance, come back and see him.
By then, perhaps Melissa and I will no longer be here, but he will be."
Hutson's fingers tightened slightly around the parchment.
Emil's words carried a weight that could not be ignored. A child. A future. And a friend who still thought of him across the vast expanse of the sea.
"Scholar Claude's health is failing. I don't know if he'll make it through the winter."
A shadow crossed Hutson's gaze.
Claude had been a guiding force—a man whose wisdom shaped their understanding of the world. The thought of his decline felt like watching an old star flicker, on the verge of being swallowed by the abyss.
"The adventurer's guild I founded is thriving. We've made a name for ourselves, and people are seeking us out for work."
