Run: 2026-05-31-01KSYXFTC5YDDPRBNGZHC3F7HE

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, the smell of hay and leather filled my nostrils. A broad-shouldered man in polished armor strode toward me, his boots crunching on the gravel. "You must be Frederick," he said, his voice deep and commanding. "I am Sir Roland. I've heard much about you from the master-at-arms." He extended a calloused hand, and when I shook it, his grip nearly crushed my fingers. There was a sharpness in his gray eyes that told me he would tolerate no weakness. "We begin your training at dawn. Rest well tonight, boy—it may be the last good rest you get for a while." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: An Unexpected Friend" data-color="green"> I had barely tied Thunder to the post when a cheerful voice called out from the shadows of the stable. "A fine beast you have there!" An older man emerged, wiping his hands on a cloth, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his weathered face. He wore the insignia of a knight, though his manner was anything but formal. "Sir Roland, at your service. And you'd be young Frederick, yes?" He clapped me on the shoulder like an old friend. "Come, let me show you around. The castle can be a confusing place for newcomers, but you'll find we're not so frightening once you get to know us." His laughter was easy, and for the first time since leaving home, I felt my nerves begin to settle. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Stern Sentinel" data-color="blue"> The clang of a blade against a whetstone drew my attention as I led Thunder into the stable yard. There, seated upon an overturned barrel, was a man honing his sword with deliberate care. He did not look up at first. "You're late," he said simply, testing the edge of his blade against his thumb. Only then did he raise his eyes to meet mine. "Sir Roland," he offered, rising to his full height. He studied me for a long moment, taking in my travel-worn clothes and uncertain posture. "A squire is judged not by how he arrives, but by what he becomes. Stable your horse, then find me in the training yard. We shall see what you are made of." </nc-section>