Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFTA5ENJ0S2H4ZY4SA3T98

<nc-section data-title="The Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> As I led Thunder towards the stables, a deep voice called out from the shadows. "Ho there, young squire! You must be Frederick, the new arrival." I turned to find a weathered knight in worn armor approaching. His scarred face bore the marks of many battles, but his eyes were kind. "I am Sir Roland," he said, clasping my shoulder firmly. "I'll be overseeing your training here at the castle." "My lord," I replied, bowing my head respectfully. "I'm honored to serve." Sir Roland laughed warmly. "None of that 'my lord' business. You'll find I'm not like the pretentious nobles who dwell within these walls. Now, let's see that horse of yours." He walked over to Thunder and ran a knowing hand along his flank. "A fine steed. You'll need one if you're to survive the trials ahead." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Grizzled Mentor" data-color="green"> The stables smelled of hay and horse sweat—comforting scents that reminded me of home. I was brushing Thunder's coat when heavy footsteps echoed through the barn. "You there! New boy!" The voice was gruff and impatient. I turned to see a knightleaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His grey hair was wild, and he carried himself with the easy confidence of a seasoned warrior. "I am Sir Roland," he said, stepping forward. "And you must be the squire everyone's been chattering about." He scrutinized me from head to toe, making me feel rather small. "Hmm. Skinny. But there's fire in your eyes. That's something." "I—thank you, Sir," I stammered, unsure if that was a compliment. He snorted. "Don't thank me yet. Training begins at dawn, and I don't go easy on newcomers. The last squire who couldn't handle my regimen quit after three days." He paused, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. "But you strike me as different. Perhaps you'll last a week." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Encounter at Dusk" data-color="blue"> Dusk had fallen by the time I reached the stable yards, the sky painted in shades of purple and gold. As I unsaddled Thunder, I noticed a figure watching me from across the courtyard. The knight approached slowly, his armor gleaming faintly in the fading light. Up close, I could see he was older than I initially thought—perhaps fifty winters—with a neatly trimmed beard touched by grey. "Frederick, I presume?" His voice was surprisingly gentle. "I am Sir Roland. I heard you'd arrived today." "Yes, Sir Roland," I said, straightening up. "I was just settling my horse before to—" "No need." He waved his reporting hand. "I've already spoken with your master. From now on, you're under my guidance." He crouched down to examine Thunder's hooves. "You keep your horse well. That's important. A knight who cannot care for his steed cannot be trusted to care for much else." I nodded, remembering my father's lessons. "My father taught me that a knight and his horse are one." Sir Roland looked up at me, something like approval flickering in his eyes. "Your father was wise. Hold onto those lessons, Frederick. They'll serve you well in the days to come."