The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 10:59:42 -

The Distant Joke

The wax was cold and hard, a seal of crimson that I had pressed with a ring that no longer fit my swollen finger. I held the letter in my hand, the parchment stiff with the weight of words I had spent three nights composing, and the air in the keep smelled of wet wool and the sweet, cloying rot of the dead. I was forty years old, a knight of the Order of the Silver Shield, and I was dying of a...

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