The Distant Joke

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2026-08-23 00:49:01 -

The Distant Joke

The feast was loud, a cacophony of clattering pewter and shouted toasts that vibrated in my teeth, but I sat rigid at the edge of the table, my hands white-knuckled around a cup of stale ale. The air in the great hall of Oakhaven’s night market hung thick with the scent of roasted fat and damp wool, a suffocating blanket that seemed to press against my lungs. I was looking for the Iron Compass,...

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