Istvan,
I received your letter. Thank you for your wishes; my health is good despite the drainings, thank you. As for your thinly veiled requests for money, my answer is simple: no.
I don't care about your woes, I don't care about your troubles. I told you in no uncertain terms that, should you enlist with the vrakhiri, you'll no longer be a part of our family. Now it's official: I have amended my will and disowned you. I no longer have a son and you no longer have a father.
Don't write ever again. I will tear up any further letters without opening them.
Stibor
