The Distant Joke

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2026-08-17 12:13:27 -

The Distant Joke

The feast hall smelled of roasted boar and old stone, a heavy, suffocating aroma that clung to the wool of my doublet and the iron of my breastplate. Candles guttered in iron sconces, casting long, trembling shadows against the tapestries that depicted the lineage of the Kings of Aethelgard, a lineage that I had sworn to protect with my life, a promise that now felt like a noose tight around my...

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