The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 09:09:04 -

The Distant Joke

The rain did not fall so much as it was hurled, a horizontal lash of grey sleet that turned the moor into a churning sea of mud and thorn. Silas Vane did not look up from the map, though the parchment was soaked through, the ink running in black rivers that bled into the topography of the valley below. He was a cartographer by trade, a man who had spent his life measuring the distance between...

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