Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY93R0DPX2J5S5B7PMB4Q9S

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Knight’s Welcome" data-color="red"> The stables groaned under the weight of hooves and the scent of leather and hay filled the air. Frederick dismounted Thunder, his breath steady despite the exertion. As he stepped closer to the stable door, a deep voice rumbled behind him. *"You’re late."* Frederick turned to see Sir Roland, his armor gleaming under the fading light, his sword resting against the wall. His dark eyes locked onto Frederick’s, sharp with amusement. "The king’s messenger arrived early," Roland said, gesturing toward the stable’s entrance. "He said you’d be here by now." Frederick swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around Thunder’s reins. "I—I apologize, sir. The roads were… treacherous." Roland chuckled, the sound rough but warm. "Treacherous? Or just slow?" He stepped forward, his boots thudding against the stone floor. "Come inside. The king’s orders are clear: you’ll train here, under my watchful eye. And if you’re lucky, you might even earn a place in the king’s guard by the end of the year." Frederick’s pulse quickened. This was his chance. His chance to prove himself. Roland’s gaze lingered on him, assessing. "You’ve got the fire in you, boy. But fire without steel is just smoke. Now, let’s get you cleaned up before the rest of the knights start grumbling." <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Knight’s Challenge" data-color="green"> The stable door creaked open, and Frederick stepped inside, Thunder’s hooves echoing softly against the wooden floor. Before he could take more than a step, a towering figure emerged from the shadows—Sir Roland, his broadsword already drawn. *"You’re late,"* Roland growled, his voice a low rumble that made Frederick’s spine prickle. His armor was polished to a mirror sheen, the scars on his knuckles hinting at battles fought. Frederick swallowed. "I—I’m sorry, sir. The roads were… difficult." Roland’s eyes narrowed. "Difficult? Or just slow?" He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "The king’s orders are clear: you’ll train here, under my supervision. And if you want to keep your head, you’ll listen." Frederick’s heart pounded. This was his trial. His chance to prove himself. Roland’s gaze was unyielding. "You’ve got potential, boy. But potential without discipline is just a liability. Now, let’s see if you can handle a lesson—or if you’ll end up in the dungeon." <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Knight’s Shadow" data-color="blue"> Frederick’s horse stood still as a statue, its ears twitching at the distant clatter of hooves. The stable door swung open, and a figure stepped out—Sir Roland, his cloak billowing behind him like a storm cloud. His voice was a low, commanding growl. *"You’re late."* Frederick turned, his breath catching. The knight’s presence was electric, his presence alone making the air thick with expectation. Roland’s sword was sheathed, but the weight of it seemed to hang between them, heavy with unspoken challenge. Frederick’s fingers tightened around Thunder’s reins. "I—I apologize, sir. The roads were… rough." Roland’s gaze darkened. "Rough? Or just lazy?" He took a step forward, his boots leaving no trace on the stone floor. "The king’s orders are simple: you’ll train here, under my guidance. And if you want to survive, you’ll listen." Frederick’s pulse raced. This was his moment. His chance to prove himself—not just as a squire, but as something more. Roland’s voice dropped to a whisper. "You’ve got fire in you, boy. But fire needs a spark. Now, let’s see if you can handle the first lesson—or if you’ll burn before you even start."