Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ09Q26YBM3JDHWJ24KSEJ1M

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> Thunder slowed to a trot as we entered the shadow of the outer wall. The stables were a bustling hive of activity, grooms shouting as they led weary horses to water. I dismounted, my legs stiff from the journey, and nearly stumbled into a broad figure in polished steel. "New blood, eh?" The knight's voice was a low rumble. Sir Roland, I presumed, stood with arms crossed over his chest, his gaze sweeping over my worn traveling cloak and the simple sword at my hip. "You have the look of someone who's spent more time with books than with battle-axes. We'll see if that changes." He gave Thunder a cursory glance. "Your beast looks well-tended. That's something. Follow me. The Stablemaster needs your mount's details, and the Master-at-Arms is waiting to see what you're made of." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Watchful Eye" data-color="green"> The courtyard's clamor faded behind me as I led Thunder into the cool, straw-scented dimness of the stables. Before I could call for a groom, a figure detached itself from the shadows of a nearby stall. He moved with a quiet, deliberate grace that seemed at odds with his heavy plate armor. "Squire Frederick?" The voice was calm, measured. Sir Roland stepped into a shaft of lantern light, his face unreadable. "I was told to expect you. You made better time than the last recruit." He didn't smile, his eyes dark and assessing, missing nothing. "You chose a strong mount. A good sign. Many come here on broken-down nags, dreaming of glory they can barely walk toward." He paused, then nodded once, as if to himself. "Let's see if your spirit matches your horse's stamina." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Welcome Hearth" data-color="blue"> The scent of hay and horse sweat was a welcome homecoming as I guided Thunder into the bustling stable. A hearty laugh boomed above the whinnies and clattering buckets. A tall, grinning knight with a thick, rust-colored beard strode towards me, his gauntleted hand extended in greeting. "By the old gods, you must be Frederick! We've been expecting you since the midday bell." Sir Roland clapped me on the shoulder with a friendly force that nearly sent me stumbling. "Look at that fire in your eyes! Good, good. You'll need it. I am Sir Roland, and I will be overseeing your initial training." He took Thunder's reins, giving the horse a fond pat. "Don't you worry, young squire. We'll make a knight of you yet. First things first, let's get your fine fellow here settled, then I'll show you to the barracks. Supper's soon, and the cook makes a stew that can chase away any homesickness." </nc-section>