Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA1T6WJXER4QBFPH0GTKNP

<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 misting in the cool evening. Sir Roland stood near the door, his armor gleaming under the fading light, his broadsword resting against the wall. He was a man of quiet strength, his dark eyes sharp as they locked onto Frederick’s. "You’re late," he said, voice rough but kind. "The training hall is waiting." Frederick swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around Thunder’s reins. "I—I apologize, Sir Roland. I was delayed by the roadside." Roland chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. "A squire’s delay is a squire’s lesson. Come, let’s see what the old dragon has in store for you." As they walked toward the castle, Frederick noticed the way Roland’s movements were precise, each step deliberate. The knight’s presence carried an aura of quiet authority, and Frederick felt a flicker of respect—something he hadn’t expected so soon. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 3: The First Lesson" data-color="green"> The stables echoed with the clatter of hooves and the distant murmur of servants. Frederick adjusted the straps of his tunic, his heart pounding as he approached the stable door. There, leaning against the wall, was Sir Roland, his armor polished to a high sheen, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "You’re here," Roland said, voice low and measured. "Good." Frederick hesitated, his boots scuffing against the stone floor. "Yes, Sir Roland?" The knight’s gaze flicked to the young squire, his eyes sharp with something like amusement. "The dragon’s hoard is not just gold and jewels," Roland began, his tone turning serious. "It’s knowledge. And you, Frederick, are the first to walk into its heart." Frederick’s stomach twisted. "What do you mean?" Roland stepped forward, his shadow stretching long across the floor. "You’ll learn soon enough. But for now, you must prove you’re worthy." With that, he turned and strode toward the castle, leaving Frederick standing there, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him like a storm cloud. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 4: The Knight’s Shadow" data-color="blue"> The stable door creaked open, revealing the silhouette of a man clad in polished steel. Sir Roland stood there, his presence commanding even in the quiet of the evening. Frederick’s pulse quickened as he stepped forward, Thunder’s hooves barely making a sound on the stone. Roland’s voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder. "You’ve arrived," he said, not a question. Frederick swallowed, his fingers digging into Thunder’s mane. "I—I was delayed." Roland’s gaze didn’t waver. "The dragon’s hoard is not a place for those who fear the unknown." Frederick’s breath caught. "What does that mean?" Roland’s expression darkened, his voice turning colder. "It means you’ll learn what it takes to face the last dragon. And if you fail, you’ll leave here with nothing but your name." The words hung between them, heavy with consequence. Frederick looked down at his hands, then back at Roland. The knight’s shadow stretched long across the stable floor, a silent sentinel. "I’ll do my best," Frederick said, his voice barely above a whisper. </nc-section>