The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 12:13:36 -

The Distant Joke

The banquet hall of the old mill, now repurposed as a staging ground for the 42nd Infantry, smelled of wet wool, stale beer, and the metallic tang of fear. Candles flickered in their iron sconces, casting long, trembling shadows that danced against walls plastered with maps of the jagged northern territories. At the head of the long oak table sat Colonel Elias Thorne, a man whose face was a...

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