The Distant Joke

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2026-08-23 04:58:09 -

The Distant Joke

The leather of the strap bit into my shoulder, a familiar ache that measured the hours against the miles. I had ridden for six days, counting the jolts in the saddle to keep my mind from drifting into the gray mist that swallowed the valley of Oakhaven. My name is Kaelen, and I am a warden, though the High Court no longer recognizes the title. They call me heretic. They say I saved a peasant...

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