Run: 2026-05-10-01KR93GNGZFXD92NCACAKGKF7T

<nc-section data-title="The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> The heavy oak doors of the stables creaked open, and Sir Roland stepped into the twilight, his plate armor clanking with every movement. He didn't offer a smile, only a piercing gaze that seemed to weigh every ounce of my resolve. "You’re late, squire," he rasped, his hand resting firmly on the pommel of his sword. "Dragons don't wait for sunset, and neither do I. Stabling that beast is your first duty—don't expect a groom to coddle you here." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Mentor's Assessment" data-color="green"> I swung down from Thunder’s back just as a towering figure emerged from the shadow of the stables. Sir Roland possessed a rugged, weathered face, etched with the scars of a dozen forgotten wars. He looked over the stallion with an appraising eye before nodding toward me. "A sturdy mount, lad," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for a man of his stature. "Learning to care for the creature that carries you is the foundation of all we do. Welcome to the training grounds." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Weight of Duty" data-color="blue"> "Frederick, is it?" Sir Roland’s voice echoed against the cobblestone courtyard. He stood by the stable entrance, his cape billowing like dark smoke in the evening breeze. He gestured toward the flickering torchlight inside the building. "The king has whispered rumors of scales appearing in the Northern Crags. If you are to be the one who faces them, you must understand that the life of a dragon-slayer begins with the dirt beneath your fingernails. Handle your horse, then report to the armory." </nc-section>