The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 09:27:30 -

The Distant Joke

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended gray mist that clung to the windowpanes of the carriage like a shroud, blurring the passing landscape into a smear of wet earth and dying hedgerows. Silas Vane sat with his back rigid against the velvet seat, his eyes fixed not on the road ahead but on the small, worn leather pouch resting in his lap, a pouch that had held, for three...

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