The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 21:53:47 -

The Distant Joke

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended gray curtain that blurred the edge of the world into a single, indistinct smear of stone and shadow. Thomas Bradshaw sat alone in the upper gallery of the Great Hall, his back against the cold stone of the pillar, watching the water drip from the eaves into the moat below. He was a man of letters, a scholar of the old tongues, yet in this...

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