The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 23:15:39 -

The Distant Joke

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pork and wet wool. It was a heavy, cloying scent that clung to the stone walls of the Guild Hall in Ashworth, a city of narrow streets and taller spires. Master Elias Thorne sat at the head of the long oak table, his hands resting on the polished wood. He was a man of letters, a scholar of the old texts, but here he was a guest at the table of the Wardens....

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