Run: 2026-03-15-01KKS2NZ8BS5XDPDNMRDX93M83

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, a tall figure emerged from the shadows. Sir Roland, the local knight, was known throughout the kingdom for his fierce demeanor and countless victories in battle. His armor was scratched and dented, telling stories of wars long past. "You must be the new squire," he said, his voice like grinding stone. He looked me up and down with narrowed eyes. "I expected someone... taller." I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "I'm Frederick, sir. I've come to—" "I know why you've come," he cut me off, stepping closer. The smell of leather and steel washed over me. "Everyone comes for glory and honor. They all think being a knight means parades and pretty maidens throwing flowers." He leaned down until his face was inches from mine. "Most of them wash out within a fortnight. I suspect you will too." He straightened up and turned away, waving dismissively over his shoulder. "See to your horse. Someone will show you to the barracks. Try not to get in my way." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="green"> As I led Thunder toward the stables, a broad-shouldered man appeared around the corner, wiping his hands on a cloth. He wore simple clothes rather than armor, and his warm smile caught me off guard. "Easy there, lad," he said, holding out his hand for Thunder to sniff. The stallion, usually skittish around strangers, calmed immediately. "Ah, he's a fine one. You've treated him well on your journey." "I have, sir. He's served me faithfully." The man laughed, a deep and genuine sound. "Sir? No need for such formality here. I'm Roland, though they insist on adding the 'Sir' when there's company about." He clapped me on the shoulder, his grip firm but friendly. "So you're Frederick. I've heard good things from the village elder. Said you were the hardest worker in your hamlet." "I try my best, Sir Roland." "Well, your best will be enough to start, and we'll build from there." He took Thunder's reins from me. "Come, let's get your horse settled, and I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. Dinner's in two hours, and you'll want to be rested. Tomorrow, your real training begins." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="blue"> The stables were quiet as I approached, save for the soft sounds of horses shifting in their stalls. A man stood alone in the courtyard, staring up at the castle walls as if searching for something in the stone. He didn't turn as I drew near. "Frederick," he said, not as a question but as a statement. It was Sir Roland, though he looked different than I had imagined. There was a weariness about him, a heaviness in the set of his shoulders that no amount of armor could hide. "Yes, Sir Roland. I've arrived for—" "For training. Yes." He finally turned to face me, and I was struck by his eyes—gray as a winter sky, and just as cold. "Tell me something, boy. Why do you want to be a knight?" The question caught me off guard. I had rehearsed answers about honor and duty, but looking at this man, those words felt hollow. "I... I'm not entirely sure, sir. It felt like the right path." Something flickered across his face—surprise, perhaps, or something deeper. "An honest answer. Rare these days." He gestured toward the stables. "Tend to your horse. Eat. Rest. We'll speak more in the morning, when I've decided if you're worth the trouble." He walked away without another word, disappearing into the gathering dusk. </nc-section>