Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFHWSR82C6P7NDPE7RM6TSW

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Iron Master" data-color="red"> The heavy oak doors of the stables groaned open, admitting the night air that was heavy with the scent of hay and old iron. Standing just beyond the threshold was a figure clad in plated armor that seemed carved from obsidian in the fading twilight. It was Sir Roland, his hand resting casually on the hilt of a broadsword sheathed at his hip. "You ride a good horse, boy," Roland said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in Frederick's chest. "But horses cannot defend a kingdom. Only men can." He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the stable entrance. "The dragon's wake is coming. We must be sharpened for it." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Sage of Thorns" data-color="green"> A soft rustle of leaves accompanied the arrival of the younger knight, a squire bringing fresh water for the beasts. Unlike the imposing figure Frederick had expected, the knight who approached wore a cloak woven from leaf-green wool, signifying his role as a guardian of the land rather than just a warrior. He offered a warm, weathered smile as he approached the young squire in the study of the stables. "Welcome, Frederick," he said, adjusting his gloves. "The training will be hard, like the roots growing through the stone, but remember that the land is healed by the sap of discipline." He handed Frederick a torch, its flame bright and steady, a symbol of the warmth they would provide together through the coming winter. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Blue Ice" data-color="blue"> The air in the stables grew suddenly cold as if the fire itself had been doused. Standing near the corner, waiting in a silence that was unnervingly absolute, was Sir Roland. His armor reflected the blue light coming from high above—the moon beginning to rise. "Come," he commanded, his voice stripping the warmth from the air. "The dragon is not a beast we hunt with swords alone." Roland turned his hand over, revealing a strange, crystalline ring that hummed with a faint vibration. Your destiny is not just to learn, Frederick, he whispered to the squire, his breath visible in the chill. "You are to learn how to fly." </nc-section>