The Distant Joke
The road to the High Court was a river of mud and iron. Thomas walked it. He walked it for three days. He walked it until his boots wore through the skin of his feet. He carried nothing but a satchel of salted pork and a vial of amber oil. The oil smelled of thyme and old blood. It was the only thing he trusted. The only thing that remained constant. He was a stranger in this land. His name...
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