Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQF85K5GNKGN36216E5MHC

<nc-section data-title="A Harsh Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted Thunder, my boots sinking slightly into the damp earth, a gruff voice cut through the evening air like a blade. **"You’re late, boy."** Sir Roland stood before me, his armor still gleaming despite the fading light, though his expression was as cold as the steel he wore. His scarred face twisted into a frown as he eyed Thunder with disdain. **"And that beast looks half-starved. Did you think this was a pleasure ride?"** He stepped closer, the weight of his presence pressing down on me like a physical force. **"The stables are no place for laziness. If you’re to train under me, you’ll learn that first."** His gauntleted hand seized Thunder’s reins with a sharp tug, and the stallion snorted in protest. **"Strip the saddle, brush him down, and don’t dare leave a speck of dirt. Then report to the training yard. You’ve got five minutes."** With that, he turned on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him like a storm cloud. My hands trembled—not from fear, but from the fire his words had lit in my chest. *I would prove him wrong.* </nc-section> --- <nc-section data-title="A Measure of Respect" data-color="green"> The clatter of hooves against cobblestone announced my arrival before I’d even slid from Thunder’s back. A tall figure emerged from the stable’s shadowed entrance, his polished greaves catching the last rays of sunlight. **"Sir Frederick, I presume?"** Sir Roland’s voice was deep but warm, his hand extended in greeting. **"Your reputation precedes you—the squire who tamed the wild stallion of Blackridge."** A rare smile creased the corners of his eyes as he patted Thunder’s neck. **"A fine beast. You’ve done well by him."** He gestured toward the stables. **"Walk with me. The others will be eager to meet you, but first, tell me—what brings a lad of your skill to our humble keep?"** His tone was inviting, yet his sharp gaze missed nothing. I swallowed, suddenly aware of the weight of his expectation. This was no mere greeting; it was a test. And I intended to pass it. </nc-section> --- <nc-section data-title="A Whisper of Warning" data-color="blue"> The stables were eerily quiet as I dismounted, the only sound the distant hoot of an owl from the castle’s highest tower. Then, like a ghost materializing from the dusk, Sir Roland appeared beside me, his movements unnaturally silent for a man clad in armor. **"You ride well, Frederick,"** he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. **"But skill on horseback won’t save you here."** His fingers traced the hilt of his sword, the motion deliberate. **"The castle is not what it seems. Walls have ears, and trust is a luxury we can’t afford."** He leaned in closer, his breath cool against my ear. **"The king’s enemies lurk in the shadows, even among our own. Watch your back—and your tongue."** Before I could respond, he melted into the darkness, leaving only the faint scent of polished leather and steel behind. Thunder nuzzled my shoulder, as if sensing my unease. I took a deep breath. *Whatever awaited me within those walls, I was already in the game.* </nc-section>