Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBHJAF30Q2V3PC1QZTAEQ3A

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Iron Welcome" data-color="red"> Frederick pulled Thunder’s reins tight as the stallion snorted, sensing the stone walls closing in. The stable doors stood open like a dark maw, but from within emerged a figure clad in rusted mail. Sir Roland was a mountain of scarred muscle and silent judgment, his eyes catching the last dying embers of the sun. He did not smile as he approached, but instead reached out a gauntleted hand to inspect Frederick’s grip on the bit. "The road is red with blood tonight," the knight rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "But your horse breathes easy. That is good. Welcome to the barracks, squire." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Quiet Welcome" data-color="green"> Frederick guided Thunder into the shadowed aisle of the stable, the scent of hay and earth filling the air. The evening light was soft, filtering through the cracks in the wood to paint the floor in emerald hues. Sir Roland appeared from behind a stack of feed bags, his green cloak blending with the twilight garden beyond the walls. He had a gentle face, marked not by battle scars, but by years of watching the world grow. "Take your time, boy," Roland said, patting the warm flank of the horse. "The castle will wait for no man, but a horse needs rest. Here, you will grow as well." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Shadow Welcome" data-color="blue"> As the sky turned a deep, bruising blue, Frederick dismounted at the stable steps. The air had grown cold, biting at his cheeks. Standing before him was Sir Roland, a silhouette carved against the fading twilight, his steel breastplate gleaming like a mirror of the night sky. There was no warmth in his greeting, only the steady, unyielding presence of a guardian. He took Thunder’s bridle with a practiced ease. "The dragon sleeps," Roland murmured, his voice low. "And so too must you, squire. The training begins at dawn." </nc-section>