Run: 2026-05-10-01KR93K85HHJADDYAX0ZBEZKJE

<nc-section data-title="The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, the scent of hay and horse sweat filled the air. A towering figure stepped from the shadows of the arched doorway, his plate armor clanking with every movement. Sir Roland, his face marred by a jagged scar from jaw to temple, stared at me with eyes as cold as flint. "You're late, squire," he growled, tossing a heavy grooming brush at my feet. "The dragons don't wait for dawdlers, and neither do I. If you want to survive the night, you’ll start by scrubbing the muck from these stalls until the stone shines." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Lesson in Humility" data-color="green"> I led Thunder into the cool reprieve of the stables, only to find a man meticulously polishing a longsword. Sir Roland looked up, his expression unreadable, though there was a glint of hidden amusement in his gaze. He sheathed the blade and walked toward me, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. "A fine beast you've brought, lad," he said, his voice deep and echoing in the wooden rafters. "But remember this: in this castle, the dragon isn't just a beast to be feared; it's a test of spirit. Take care of your mount, keep your boots clean, and listen more than you speak. Your training begins at dawn." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Weight of the Blade" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland emerged from the gloom of the stable, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. He watched me settle the saddle with a critical eye, nodding once as I finished. "Frederick, I presume," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. "The King told me you were coming to claim your place in the Dragon Guard. It is a dangerous path, and one paved with more sacrifice than glory. Pick up that pitchfork—consider it your first weapon. Before you learn to face fire, you must learn the weight of the humble work that keeps this kingdom standing." </nc-section>