The Distant Joke

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2026-08-23 05:48:40 -

The Distant Joke

The wine was sour, and the Duke was shouting about the yield of the northern vineyards, his voice booming off the vaulted stone ceiling of the great hall. I stood in the shadows near the service door, my hands trembling not from fear but from the weight of the leather-bound folio tucked against my ribs. It was a heavy thing, bound in calfskin that had begun to rot at the corners, smelling of...

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