Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBHEYXDMYS0TFXMJKW2THE5

<nc-section data-title="Scene: The Stable Gate" data-color="red"> Thunder snorted, kicking up straw as Frederick slid from his saddle. Before he could untie the reins, a figure emerged from the gloom of the wooden stalls. It was Sir Roland, his mail armor glinting red in the dying light of the sun. The knight’s eyes were sharp, fixed on the young squire with an intensity that made Frederick shift his weight uncomfortably. "Your name?" Roland asked, stepping into the lantern light. The iron greaves clanged against the stone path. "Frederick, my lord," the boy stammered, bowing low. "Frederick," Roland repeated, the word tasting heavy on his tongue. "Your horse is good, but your bearing is weak. In this yard, weakness is a sin. Welcome to the castle, but know this: I do not coddle squires." Roland turned, his cape sweeping wide like a warning banner, and disappeared back into the shadows of the stable aisle. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Scene: The Stable Gate" data-color="green"> Frederick patted Thunder's neck to calm him, the white stallion snuffling warmly at the squire's hand. A soft voice interrupted him. "Careful with the reins, lad; he smells the fear in your sweat." Frederick looked up to see Sir Roland standing by the feed troughs, his face lined with the smiles of a dozen years. The knight held a lantern that cast a soft, verdant light through the wooden slats of the barn. "I couldn't find the grooms at first," Frederick admitted, smiling back nervously. "Nonsense," Roland laughed, patting Frederick on the shoulder. "The castle breathes, even when we are away. Come, show me the beast. We have much work to do before dawn breaks." The stables felt less like a cage and more like a warm embrace under the watch of a gentle mentor. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Scene: The Stable Gate" data-color="blue"> As Frederick guided Thunder into the shadows of the stable, the air grew still and heavy. Sir Roland stood there, a statue of steel and silence. The knight's armor was polished to a deep, midnight blue luster, blending with the twilight that filtered through the open doors. "The sun sets," Roland said, his voice a low hum that seemed to vibrate in the empty barn. "When the sun sets, duty begins. You have arrived as commanded, but you must prove you are not merely a boy playing at knighthood." Frederick nodded, unable to find words. Roland stepped closer, the chainmail ringing softly, like icicles cracking in winter water. "Take your horse. I will be watching your every step." The cold gaze lingered for a moment before the knight turned away, leaving Frederick alone with the quiet, blue-lit dark. </nc-section>