Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFK5M12QSV20BNFXCXBAHF5

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Iron Welcome" data-color="red"> Frederick tied his horse to the hitching ring, breathing heavily from the exertion of the gallop. Before he could even polish his spurs or straighten his tunic, a heavy armored figure emerged from the shadows of the stable lanes, a longsword resting comfortably against his thigh. This was Sir Roland, the Lord's champion. His presence was as imposing as the dragon scales he had supposedly slain, though his face bore the fatigue of years rather than scars from them. "You arrive sooner than accounted for," Roland rumbled, his voice like grinding stone. "Remember this, boy. This castle does not care for your youth. It cares only for your steel. Do not disappoint me, and do not get scratched by a beast. That is a warrior's first talent." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Shepherd's Path" data-color="green"> While Frederick tied his horse Thunder to the wooden post, green hay littering the ground, a voice called out, polite and familiar. It was Sir Roland, a knight whose reputation for kindness rivaled his skill with a lance. He watched the boy's movements, his eyes scanning Frederick's shield and sword for anything out of place. He wore a cloak left over from a tourney more than enough years ago, suggesting he had seen a world beyond the castle walls. "The road to House Roland is long, Frederick," Roland said, adjusting Frederick's helmet for a better fit. "I fear you are not quite dressed for war yet. But you are here. As long as the sun rises over the stables, you have potential." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Messenger" data-color="blue"> The stables loomed ahead, a massive structure of grey oak and shadow, when the leather boots of the knight stopped the boy short. It was Sir Roland, his blue armor reflecting the fading light of the sky above. There was no warmth in the greeting, only a cold precision that suggested duty more than duty of the boy's service. "The ground is damp near the river," Roland noted, inspecting Frederick's knee without looking at him, "if you run too fast, you will bleed to the horses. Not recommended." The knight turned his back, the sound of his ringing sword against his armor echoing off the stone walls. "Follow me to the armory. We have much to prepare for tonight." </nc-section>