Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ73QMQR7AWRCTAZSC71Z92H

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Iron Greeting" data-color="red"> Frederick guided Thunder's reins toward the rough-hewn stone of the stable walls, the stallion's flanks heaving as steam rose into the cooling air. Before he could dismount, a gauntleted hand clamped onto the pommel of his saddle, halting him in place. A figure stepped from the shadows, clad in plate armor that looked less like polished steel and more like scarred iron forged in battle. It was Sir Roland, his face a map of old wounds and grim determination. The knight's eyes, hard as flint, bored into the young squire. "Thunder carries a strong gait," Sir Roland rumbled, his voice like gravel grinding against stone. "But strength alone won't save you in the drills. I don't care where you've come from, lad; I care if you can hold a shield when the weight threatens to crush your soul. Come. Show me you're worth the grain your horse eats, and perhaps I'll teach you to be a knight worth a banner." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Ash Wood Knight" data-color="green"> As Thunder stepped onto the cobblestones, his hooves echoing softly against the stone, Frederick noticed a figure leaning casually against a hay bale near the stalls. He wore no helmet, only a cloak of worn emerald wool, and was whittling a piece of ash wood with a dagger that looked more like a tool than a weapon. The man looked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a warmth that belied his knightly status. "Easy now, lad," Sir Roland called out, his voice steady and gentle as the ancient oaks beyond the castle walls. He gestured toward the troughs with his knife. "Thunder's been restless waiting for you. I'm Sir Roland. The locals say I know the castle grounds better than the rats know the cellar. You've made good time; the road can be treacherous this close to the Shadow Fen. Come, let's get this noble steed tended to. A squire who cares for his mount cares for his oath—and that's the first lesson we'll start with tomorrow at dawn." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Azure Warden" data-color="blue"> The dying light bled into twilight, painting the stables in hues of indigo and steel. From the archway emerged Sir Roland, moving with a silent grace that seemed to silence the very air around him. His armor gleamed with a faint, azure luminescence, etched with runes that whispered of old pacts and deeper magic. He stood between Frederick and the stable doors, his presence cool as a mountain spring, watching the squire with an intensity that felt like a physical weight. "You ride with the wind in your back," Sir Roland murmured, his voice echoing slightly, as if spoken from a deep well. "I am Roland, Warden of the Western Reach. You have arrived as the stars begin to align. The castle has slept a long time, and the blood of dragons runs thin in these halls. Prepare yourself; the training here does not forge iron, but something far sharper. Step forward and claim your place, squire. The shadows are gathering, and we have much work to do before the moon reaches its zenith." </nc-section>