Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5WKW9DWS4ZDEF2A5APMBV

<nc-section data-title="A Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> The gravel of the courtyard crunched under Thunder's hooves as we entered the main bailey. Before I could even dismount, a figure emerged from the shadow of the stable arch. Sir Roland was a mountain of a man, his chainmail hauberk dull with wear but his eyes sharp as flint. He rested a gauntleted hand on Thunder's sweat-lathered neck, his gaze sweeping over me with a silent, appraising weight. "Frederick of the Westfields," he stated, his voice a low rumble that carried over the clatter of the stable boys. "Your father sends his best. Let us hope you are more than just a name." Without another word, he turned and strode towards the keep, leaving me to scramble from my saddle and follow. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="An Unexpected Mentor" data-color="green"> As I slid wearily from the saddle, my legs stiff from days of riding, a calm voice spoke from beside the water trough. "A fine animal. He carries you well." I turned to see Sir Roland leaning against the stable wall, a simple tunic replacing the plate armor I had expected. He held out a wooden ladle of water, which I accepted gratefully. His face was lined, not with harshness, but with the kind of quiet patience I imagined the ancient stones of the castle possessed. "The journey is over, Frederick," he said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Your training begins now. First, we care for the creature who brought you here. A knight is nothing without respect for his companions." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Challenge" data-color="blue"> I was brushing down Thunder when I felt a presence behind me. Sir Roland stood framed in the stable doorway, arms crossed over a chest broad enough to belong to a bear. His expression was unreadable. "So, you're the new squire," he said, his tone flat. "I've seen a dozen like you. Full of dreams, empty of calluses." He stepped forward and took the brush from my hand, demonstrating a swift, efficient motion on Thunder's flank. "This is not a song, boy. The steel is heavy, the days are long, and I have no time for poetry. Prove to me you belong here. Start by mucking out every stall. Then we'll see if you have the spine for what comes next." </nc-section>