Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ6YZXMQK098JW5B8YSD3VAK

<nc-section data-title="The Knight's Challenge" data-color="red"> I reined Thunder in near the low, sprawling stone structure of the stables. A figure emerged from the shadows, clad in polished steel that gleamed like fresh blood in the twilight. It was Sir Roland, the castle's master of arms. He didn't bow; instead, he strode forward, his gauntleted hand resting heavily on the pommel of his broadsword. "You're late, boy," he grunted, his voice like gravel. He looked Thunder up and down with a critical eye, noting the sweat gathering on the stallion's flank. "Mounts and squires alike must be disciplined. Step down and earn my respect, or be gone before dawn." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Steadfast Groom" data-color="green"> Thunder's hooves crunched softly on the gravel as I approached the stables. There, tending to a mare with a scarred flank, stood Sir Roland. He wore no armor here, only a tunic of mossy green and leather breeches, his silver hair tied back. He looked up, his eyes sharp and bright like a hawk's, welcoming me with a nod that felt more like an appraisal of a seedling. "You ride well for a stranger," Roland said, his voice soft yet carrying the weight of old roots. He wiped his hands on a rag and approached, smelling faintly of herbal salves and damp earth. "The stables are a sanctuary, boy. Treat them so, and they shall shelter your soul as well as your beast." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Eyes of the Old Guard" data-color="blue"> The shadow of the castle grew long as I dismounted near the iron-bound doors of the stables. Sir Roland stood waiting, his silhouette framed by the dying light. His armor was etched with the azure runes of the First Guard, silent and cold like winter ice. He did not speak immediately, allowing the silence to stretch until I felt the weight of my own insignificance. Finally, he turned his gaze upon me, blue eyes piercing through the gloom. "So, the Last Dragon's heir arrives," he murmured, the title sounding more like a curse than an honor. He gestured for Thunder to be led away with a flick of his wrist. "Come, Frederick. The world is changing, and there is no time for idle greetings within these walls." </nc-section>