Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2GPRSWF5EH7FTHE1VK90V2

<nc-section data-title="A Stern Warning" data-color="red"> As I reined Thunder to a halt before the stables, a figure emerged from the shadow of the hay loft. Sir Roland, clad in darkened steel, his face set like flint. "You're late, boy," he growled, eyes narrowing. "The roads are dangerous after sunset. Did you not see the ravens circling the old gallows?" He gestured towards the distant hill, where I had indeed noticed a flock of dark shapes against the crimson sky. "They’ve been following you, I’ll wager. Whatever ill omen you carry, leave it outside these walls, or the castle will suffer for it." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the evening air. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Warm Welcome" data-color="green"> As I guided Thunder towards the stables, the scent of fresh straw and clover greeted me. A burly knight with a sun-weathered face stepped out, a broad grin spreading beneath his bushy mustache. "Ah, Frederick! The duke wrote of your coming. I am Sir Roland. I've just put down fresh water and a bucket of oats for your mount." He patted Thunder's neck with surprising gentleness. "You've ridden far. Come, let's bed him down and then I'll show you to the hall where supper is waiting. The castle is safer than it looks, and you’re among friends here." His laughter boomed across the courtyard, scattering a few chickens and my own lingering doubts. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Whisper of Old Magic" data-color="blue"> I had barely dismounted when a voice, low and resonant, spoke from the stable door. A knight of middling years leaned there, his armor chased with silver knots that seemed to shift in the fading light. "You’re the one, aren’t you? The squire who dreams of dragons." Sir Roland’s eyes were not unkind, but they held a depth that made me shiver. "I saw your arrival in the scrying pool near the springhouse. The wind carried your name to me before you ever crested the hill." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "The last dragon stirs in its slumber, and the stones of this castle tremble each night. Be careful what oaths you swear here, young Frederick. Some bonds cannot be broken." The moon rose behind the turret, and for a moment, the banner no longer bore a lion, but a coiled serpent of starlight. </nc-section>