Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFJ9J4MZ3Y2VYJ3DB2H36AX

<nc-section data-title="The Red Welcome" data-color="red"> As Thunder slowed to a trot in the cobblestone yard, a figure detached itself from the shadows of the stables. He was a broad-shouldered man in his middle years, with a thick, dark beard trimmed to a point and a scar that cut a pale crescent from his left temple to his jaw. This was Sir Roland, the castle’s master-at-arms. His eyes, sharp and evaluating, swept over Frederick and his horse with a professional detachment. “You’re the new one,” he stated, not as a question, but as a verdict. His hand rested casually on the pommel of his sword. “Your father’s horse. Good animal. Let’s see if the rider is worth the same.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Green Welcome" data-color="green"> A warm, earthy smell of hay and oiled leather filled the air as Frederick approached the stables. A man with a kind, craggy face and a thatch of hair the color of straw leaned against a stall door. He offered a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Frederick, is it? I’m Sir Roland. We’ve been expecting you.” He gestured to a sturdy bay mare munching contentedly inside. “Your father wrote ahead. Said you had a good seat and a better heart. That’s the right starting order for a squire. Welcome home, lad.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Blue Welcome" data-color="blue"> The evening air grew cooler as Frederick swung down from his saddle. A man in a surcoat of deep blue, bearing the castle’s silver tower emblem, stepped forward from the archway of the stable. His bearing was one of quiet, unshakable authority. He inclined his head, a gesture of respect. “Squire Frederick. I am Sir Roland. The castle is yours to learn, and my charge to see you do so with honor.” He placed a firm hand on Thunder’s neck. “Your journey ends here, and your true work begins. We shall ensure you are equipped for it.” </nc-section>