Run: 2026-04-24-01KPZV68AF8431YXKFSKKC0NSG

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, the scent of hay and leather filled my nostrils. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, his armor gleaming faintly in the dying light. Sir Roland, the castle's most celebrated knight, strode toward me with purposeful steps. His weathered face bore the scars of countless battles, yet his eyes held a surprising warmth. "You must be Frederick," he said, his voice deep and resonant. He clapped a gauntleted hand on my shoulder, nearly buckling my knees under its weight. "Your father spoke highly of you before he fell at Ravenspire. I see much of him in your bearing, lad. Come, there is much to discuss before nightfall." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: An Unexpected Meeting" data-color="green"> The stable boy took Thunder's reins with practiced ease, whispering soothing words to my travel-weary steed. As I turned to retrieve my satchel, I nearly collided with a broad chest clad in chainmail. I stumbled back, looking up into the amused face of a man whose dark beard was streaked with silver. "Easy there, young squire," he chuckled, steadying me with a firm grip. "I am Sir Roland, Knight-Commander of this castle, and you must be the boy we've been expecting." His gaze traveled over me with the practiced eye of a man who had trained many before. "A bit scrawny, perhaps, but we'll remedy that soon enough. Tell me, Frederick—have you ever held a real sword?" </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Measure of a Squire" data-color="blue"> I had barely set foot upon the cobblestones when a voice like rolling thunder called out from the stable doors. "Ho there! You'd be the new arrival, I wager." A knight stepped into the lantern light, tall and lean, with hair the color of autumn wheat and a sword at his hip that looked older than the castle itself. This, I knew from the tales my father had told, could only be Sir Roland the Steadfast. He did not smile, but neither was his expression unkind. He studied me for a long moment, taking in my road-stained cloak and the nervous tremor in my hands. "Training begins at dawn, Frederick. Not a moment later. A squire who cannot rise with the sun is no squire at all." He nodded once, sharply. "See to your horse first. A man who neglects his mount neglects his soul." </nc-section>