The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 09:27:45 -

The Distant Joke

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, cold mist that clung to the stone walls of the manor and seeped into the marrow of everything it touched. Silas Vane stood in the center of the Great Hall, his back to the heavy oak doors, watching the embers of the hearth die. He was a man of few words and fewer smiles, a soldier of the King’s own guard, clad in armor that had once been...

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