Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFK6S8S8MCW345VKM06A6T3

<nc-section data-title="The Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> As I slowed Thunder to a trot near the bustling stables, a figure detached itself from the shadows of the tack room. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his black surcoat emblazoned with a silver griffin over polished chainmail. A thick, iron-grey mustache framed a mouth set in a neutral line, but his eyes, sharp and assessing, missed nothing. "I trust your journey was uneventful, young squire," he said, his voice a deep rumble like stones grinding together. He did not smile. "I am Sir Roland. The master-at-arms has assigned your duties. The castle expects efficiency, not heroics." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Knight's Welcome" data-color="green"> A friendly voice called out as I dismounted. "Mind that saddle, lad!" A knight with kind eyes and laugh lines etched around them approached, his hand resting comfortably on the pommel of his sword. His armor was well-kept but showed the honest wear of campaign. "You must be Frederick. I'm Sir Roland. Heard you were coming." He gave Thunder an approving pat on the neck. "Fine horse. We'll see if the master-at-arms is as impressed with you as you are with your steed. Come, I'll show you where you'll sleep. Try not to trip over your own boots." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Knight's Welcome" data-color="blue"> The evening air was alive with the sounds of horses and the clank of metal from the nearby smithy. A knight stood by an empty stall, overseeing the stabling of his own charger. As I approached, he turned, his expression unreadable in the deepening twilight. "Frederick," he stated, not asked. He gestured to the stall beside his. "This will be yours for the night. I am Sir Roland. By dawn, you will learn that punctuality and a well-groomed horse are the first virtues of a squire in this castle. The rest, we teach." </nc-section>