The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 02:14:54 -

The Distant Joke

The road to the Hall of St. Jude was a ribbon of grey mud, stretched tight by the early frost, leading up into the white nothingness of the mountain. I walked it with the steady, dull rhythm of a man who has forgotten how to run. My name was Arthur, and I was a clerk for the Estate, a man of ledgers and dust, sent into the highlands to collect the winter tithes. The air tasted of iron and old...

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