Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE8WEFASGQXRN9DP850HXJD

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight's Welcome (Version 1)" data-color="red"> As Thunder's hooves clattered against the cobblestones near the stables, a broad-shouldered figure emerged from the shadows of the timber archway. His armor caught the last light of dusk, and a scar ran across his weathered cheek like a badge of old battles won. "You must be the new squire," he said, his voice carrying the gravel of a thousand shouted commands on training fields. "I am Sir Roland. Dismount, boy, and let's see if you know how to properly tend a horse before we speak of swords." Frederick swung down from the saddle, his legs unsteady after the long ride. "Yes, ser. Frederick, son of Aldric the smith." Sir Roland's eyes narrowed with sudden interest. "Aldric's boy? I knew your father. Good man. Strong arm, stronger heart." He clapped a heavy gauntlet on Frederick's shoulder, nearly knocking him into the hay. "Let's see if you inherited either." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight's Welcome (Version 2)" data-color="green"> The stable boy came running first, but it was the man who followed—tall, silver-haired, with the calm bearing of someone who had faced death and made peace with it—who caught Frederick's attention immediately. "Easy on the reins, lad. Thunder's earned his rest." The man's tone was gentle, though his presence filled the courtyard like a rising tide. "Sir Roland, at your service. I daresay the castellan mentioned you'd be arriving today." Frederick fumbled with the stirrups, nearly stumbling as he dismounted. "F-Frederick, ser. I'm to begin my training." Roland chuckled, a warm sound that eased the knot in Frederick's stomach. "Training starts the moment you arrive, not when the bell tolls for it. Look at your horse—exhausted, lathered in sweat. First lesson: a knight cares for his mount before he cares for himself." He took Thunder's reins with practiced ease. "Come. We'll walk him together, and you can tell me why a boy from the lowlands wants to learn the way of the sword." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight's Welcome (Version 3)" data-color="blue"> "You're late," came a voice from beside the stable door, though there was no real edge to it—more amusement than reprimand. Frederick turned to see a knight leaning against the wooden post, arms crossed, watching him with the faint smirk of someone who had seen a hundred nervous squires arrive at these gates before him. His armor was plain but well-kept, the mark of a man who valued function over show. "Sir Roland," the knight said, pushing off from the post and extending a hand. "And you'd be the smith's son from Ashford, unless I'm mistaken." "I—yes, ser. Frederick." He shook the offered hand, surprised by the firmness of the grip. "Good. Thought I'd have to wait till morning." Roland glanced past him toward the darkening horizon, then back to Thunder, who stamped impatiently. "Your horse is a fine one. Get him settled, then find me in the west hall. We start early tomorrow, and I don't tolerate excuses for tardiness twice in one week." He turned to go, then paused, glancing back with something almost like warmth in his eyes. "Welcome to the castle, Frederick. Try to survive your first month—most don't leave so easily after that." </nc-section>