Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9H4P7DY7DXKF884XYA44P

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Greeting" data-color="red"> As Thunder's hooves clattered against the cobblestones of the stable yard, a broad-shouldered figure emerged from the shadows of the hayloft. Sir Roland's armor caught the last rays of sunlight, and his weathered face broke into a welcoming grin beneath his graying beard. "You must be the new squire," he called out, striding forward with the confident gait of a man who had spent decades in service to the crown. "Frederick, is it? I am Sir Roland, and I've been expecting you." He extended a calloused hand, his grip firm as he helped Frederick dismount. "That's a fine horse you have there. Thunder, you say? A name that suits him well." Roland's eyes twinkled with something between amusement and appraisal as he looked the young squire up and down. "Come, let's get you settled. We have much to discuss before your training begins at dawn." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: An Unexpected Welcome" data-color="green"> The stable doors creaked open just as Frederick swung down from his saddle, boots hitting the packed earth with a soft thud. A voice, gruff but not unkind, called out from within the dim interior. "Well now, what have we here?" Sir Roland stepped into the fading light, his chainmail glinting softly. He was younger than Frederick had expected, with sharp eyes that missed nothing and a scar that traced his jawline like a badge of honor. "The new squire, I presume? Word travels fast in these halls." Frederick straightened his posture, suddenly aware of the dust covering his traveling clothes. "Yes, sir. Frederick, son of—" "I know who your father is, lad." Roland's expression softened slightly as he took Thunder's reins, running a practiced hand along the stallion's flank. "Fine horse. He'll need rest and water after that ride." He gestured toward the stable's interior. "Come, I'll show you where to bed him down. You and I have quite the journey ahead of us—training a squire is no small task, especially one who arrives riding like the wind itself." The knight's laugh was warm, breaking the tension of the long journey, and Frederick felt, for the first time since leaving home, that he might belong here after all. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Knight's Welcome" data-color="blue"> The stables smelled of hay and leather, familiar scents that reminded Frederick of home despite the unfamiliar surroundings. As he led Thunder toward an empty stall, a tall figure clad in polished steel stepped from the shadows, torch light dancing across an ornate breastplate emblazoned with the kingdom's crest. "Halt there, young traveler," the knight commanded, though his tone carried more curiosity than threat. "State your business at this hour." "Frederick, sir. I've come to begin my training as squire." He fumbled for the sealed letter his father had given him, hands still trembling slightly from the long ride. The knight took the parchment, breaking the wax seal with practiced ease. As he read, his stern expression melted into something more approachable. "Ah, so you're the one Lord Aldric spoke so highly of. I am Sir Roland, master-at-arms for this castle." He clasped Frederick's shoulder with surprising gentleness for a man of his size. "You've traveled far, and the hour grows late. Let us tend to your horse first—a good squire always cares for his mount before himself. Then we shall discuss what awaits you in the coming days." There was something reassuring in the knight's manner, a steadiness that made the vast castle feel slightly less daunting to the young squire standing in its shadow. </nc-section>