Run: 2026-05-29-01KSSJZ9SSXYVNHD1RXJNSCJ5V

<nc-section data-title="A Gruff Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, a towering figure emerged from the shadows. Sir Roland, the castle's most renowned knight, stood with arms crossed, his weathered face scarred from countless battles. His armor bore the dents of war, and his eyes, sharp as a hawk's, studied me with unmistakable scrutiny. "So you're the new squire," he grunted, his voice like gravel. "Let's see if you've got more between your ears than the last three who came crawling here. Hand me those reins, boy, and don't drop them." I fumbled with Thunder's reins, my fingers trembling under his gaze. Sir Roland snorted, unimpressed, but I caught the faintest flicker of something behind his stern expression—perhaps a memory of his own first day, long ago. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="An Unexpected Kindness" data-color="green"> I had barely slid down from Thunder's saddle when a warm, booming laugh echoed across the courtyard. Sir Roland approached with an easy stride, a broad smile splitting his bearded face. Though his frame was that of a seasoned warrior, his manner was as gentle as a summer morning. "Welcome, young Frederick!" he called, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. "We've been expecting you. Your father wrote to me, you know—spoke highly of your courage and your kind heart." He took Thunder's reins himself, stroking the stallion's neck with practiced affection. "A fine horse you've brought. Come, let me show you around before supper. There's much to learn, but there's no rush tonight. Tonight, you simply rest." His warmth eased the knot of nerves in my chest, and for the first time since leaving home, I felt I might truly belong. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Test from the Start" data-color="blue"> As Thunder slowed to a halt by the stables, a knight stepped into my path so suddenly that my horse reared. Sir Roland, lean and quick-eyed, said nothing at first—he simply watched as I struggled to calm the panicked animal. "A knight who cannot master his own steed," he finally said, his tone cool and measuring, "will never master a blade, nor a battlefield, nor himself." I steadied Thunder at last, my breath ragged, and looked up to find Sir Roland already turning away. "Stable your horse. Then meet me in the training yard. We begin immediately—the kingdom does not wait for squires to find their feet." There was no warmth in his words, but there was no cruelty either. Only expectation. And I realized, in that moment, that my training had already begun. </nc-section>