Run: 2026-05-10-01KR8WP82DFPSQB6X57AEZZ8VA

<nc-section data-title="The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, the scent of hay and wet leather filled the air. A towering figure stepped from the shadows, his plate armor clanking with every movement. Sir Roland, his face a landscape of scars and grim determination, fixed me with a piercing glare. "You are late, boy," he rumbled, his hand resting heavily on the hilt of his broadsword. "The dragon doesn't wait for squires to finish their leisurely rides, and neither do I." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Mentor's Assessment" data-color="green"> The heavy wooden doors of the stable creaked open to reveal Sir Roland, wiping axle grease from his calloused palms onto a rag. He watched me settle Thunder with a nod of approval, his eyes scanning my posture with practiced scrutiny. "Steady hands, lad," he remarked, a rare, faint smile touching his lips. "That is the first requirement of a dragon rider. If you can handle a beast of flesh and blood, perhaps there is hope for you yet when it comes to the scaled ones." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Call to Arms" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland emerged from the twilight, his demeanor frantic rather than welcoming. He gripped my shoulder, his iron gauntlet biting into my tunic. "Frederick, stow that stallion quickly," he commanded, gesturing towards the smoking horizon where the sky had begun to bruise with unnatural purple hues. "The sentries have spotted activity near the Obsidian Crags. Your training starts now—not in a courtyard, but in the thick of the fire." </nc-section>