The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 14:01:14 -

The Distant Joke

The rain fell in sheets of iron. It drummed against the wet cobblestones of the King’s Road, a relentless percussion that drowned out the sound of the city’s breath. I stood beneath the eaves of the old customs house, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. The steel was cold. The leather grip was slick. I had carried this blade for twenty years. It had seen the borders of the north and the...

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