The Distant Joke

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2026-08-22 17:28:06 -

The Distant Joke

The count was precise, a ritual of penance performed in the freezing air before the gate of the Obsidian Keep: four hundred and twelve steps from the river’s edge to the iron portcullis, each one a debt paid in the ache of his knees and the burning in his lungs. Eamon counted them aloud, the numbers a dry rattle against the silence of the moor, for he was a man who had learned that the only way...

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