Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5NW3BE9D90DS490JPPZ52

<nc-section data-title="A Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> The clatter of Thunder's hooves on the cobblestones announced my arrival in the castle yard. Before I could even dismount, a figure emerged from the shadow of the stable arch. Sir Roland was a mountain of a man, his plate armor scarred and dull, not polished for show. His gaze, as grey and hard as the castle stone, swept over me and my horse with a dispassionate assessment that made my stomach tighten. "Frederick of the Western Vale," he stated, his voice a low rumble. "You're late. The stables are there. Tend to your beast. Then you will report to the armory. We do not coddle daydreamers here." His welcome was as cold as the coming night, a stark baptism into the life I had chosen. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Knight's Welcome" data-color="green"> As I slid from Thunder's back, my boots sinking into the soft earth of the bustling stable yard, a man with a kind, weathered face approached. His armor was well-kept but practical, a green surcoat worn over it. "Well met, lad!" Sir Roland's voice was warm, carrying over the whinnies and chatter. He offered a gauntleted hand, which I shook, feeling the strength in his grip. "Frederick, isn't it? Saw you coming across the field. That's a fine animal. Let's get him settled together. A squire's first duty is to his horse, and a knight's first lesson is to share it." His smile was genuine, turning the daunting castle into a place of potential fellowship. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Knight's Welcome" data-color="blue"> The castle yard was a stage of ordered activity at dusk. I had barely dismounted when a knight in immaculate blue enameled armor stepped forward, his movements precise. Sir Roland did not offer his hand. Instead, he offered a shallow, formal bow, which I hastily returned. "Squire Frederick," he said, his tone measured and clear. "I am Sir Roland, master of the squires. Your arrival is noted. The tradition is that a new squire presents himself and his steed at the stable trough for a blessing of water and steel. Please, follow me." He turned, expecting obedience. His welcome was not one of warmth, but of ritual, immediately weaving me into the ancient tapestry of the castle's ways. </nc-section>