The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 20:58:02 -

The Distant Joke

The rain fell in sheets, cold and relentless, washing the mud from the cobblestones of the old market square. I had walked for three days. My boots were soaked through. The weight of the chain around my ankle had worn a red groove into my skin, a constant, hot reminder of my crime. I was a thief. That was what they said. A thief who stole the King’s heart. I stood before the high archway of the...

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