Run: 2026-05-10-01KR8VX5SPAANPXBC6CRF6ZH8P

<nc-section data-title="The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, the scent of hay and unwashed metal filled the air. A massive frame stepped from the shadows, blocking my path to the stalls. It was Sir Roland, his armor scarred by a thousand skirmishes and his eyes as cold as flint. "You're late, boy," he growled, not bothering to offer a hand. "I don't care who your father is or what pedigree your horse boasts. In my yard, you are nothing but manure-shoveler until I deem you fit to hold a blade." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Mentor's Assessment" data-color="green"> The heavy oak doors of the stables creaked open, revealing Sir Roland. He leaned casually against a support beam, watching me with an unreadable expression as I struggled to unsaddle Thunder. He didn't rush to greet me, but there was a faint, approving nod when I finally managed to secure the cinch. "Steady hands, squire," he called out, his voice gravelly but not unkind. "A knight is only as good as the mount he keeps. You treat that beast well, and perhaps you’ll survive the week." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Shadow of Expectations" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland emerged from the gloom of the stable master's quarters, his gauntlet-clad fingers tapping rhythmically against the pommel of his sword. He looked at me, then up at the darkening sky where the first stars were beginning to prick through the velvet blue. "You’ve arrived just as the shadows lengthen," he remarked, his gaze lingering on the distant mountain peaks. "There are whispers in the valley, Frederick. If you’ve come here seeking glory, turn back. But if you have come to face the final embers of an old fire, then stable your horse and follow me." </nc-section>