The Distant Joke

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2026-08-23 11:16:23 -

The Distant Joke

The fog that rolled off the River Ouse did not merely obscure the world; it erased it, swallowing the jagged spires of the ruined Abbey of St. Jude until only the wet, black stone of the gate remained visible in the grey murk. Sir Aldous stood before it, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that felt heavier with each passing minute, not because of its weight, but because of the cold that...

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