As the various festivities wore on, through the afternoon and into the evening, the sun could barely be seen sinking below the horizon, though one would be hard pressed to find a place in the city where the horizon was visible.   While several customers came and went, one certain young man stood out from the rest.  He was covered in dirty rags that barely passed as clothing, and looked like he hadn't bathed in days, if not weeks, but in his hand was a white envelope with very a very clear wax symbol.  "Message for the guild owner!" he called out as he held the letter outward, looking around for anyone that looked like they were in charge.