The Distant Joke
The blade was red. It was red up to the hilt. Elias held it tight. His knuckles were white. The blood was not his. It was the blood of the courtier who had laughed. The laugh had been sharp. It had cut deeper than steel. "Stop," Elias said. His voice was low. It was a rumble in his chest. It was the sound of a bell in a storm. The courtier fell. He hit the marble floor with a soft thud. The...
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