The Distant Joke

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2026-08-17 22:25:47 -

The Distant Joke

The banquet hall of the Gilded Lark was not merely a room; it was a living organism of steam, copper, and the heavy, sweet perfume of roasted pheasant and aged sherry, a place where the air itself seemed to thicken with the weight of unspoken agreements and the sharp, metallic tang of ambition. Elias Thorne stood at the center of this swirling vortex, his hands stained not with ink or soil, but...

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