The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 03:09:57 -

The Distant Joke

The iron bowl sits before you. It is heavy. Cold. The metal drinks the light of the candles and gives back none. You sit at the high table in the Great Hall of Alderford Keep. The air is thick with the smell of roasted boar and stale ale. Around you, the lords laugh. Their voices boom like distant thunder. You do not laugh. You stare at the bowl. It was a gift. Your father’s gift. He pressed it...

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