Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9R3MW89HYRXGSBVGMCC04

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: A Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> As Thunder's hooves clattered to a stop on the cobblestones near the stables, a broad-shouldered figure emerged from the shadows of the hayloft. His armor bore the dents of countless battles, and a scar ran across his weathered cheek like a badge of honor. "You must be the new squire," the man said, his voice booming like distant thunder. "I am Sir Roland, sworn knight of this castle. Off that horse now—let's see what kind of stuff you're made of." Frederick slid down from the saddle, his legs still shaky from the long ride. Sir Roland's sharp eyes studied him from head to toe, missing nothing. "Well," the knight said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "at least you didn't fall off. That's more than I can say for the last boy they sent me." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Stable Encounter" data-color="green"> The stable boys scattered as Frederick led Thunder toward the water trough, the horse's sides heaving from the long journey. It was then that he noticed a man approaching—tall, weathered, with graying hair beneath a simple leather cap, and eyes that seemed to have witnessed a thousand sunsets. "Easy there, lad," the man said gently, though his voice carried an unmistakable authority. "Your horse looks winded. Walk him slow before you water him, else he'll take ill." Frederick nodded quickly, adjusting his grip on the reins. "Yes, sir. I didn't mean to push him so hard." The man chuckled, running a calloused hand along Thunder's flank. "No harm done. I'm Sir Roland. I've been told to expect a new squire today. I take it that's you?" "Yes, Sir Roland. I'm Frederick." He straightened his posture, trying to appear more composed than he felt. "Good. Settle your horse first—always the horse first, remember that—then come find me. We have much to discuss, and the sun won't wait for either of us." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Old Knight" data-color="blue"> The stables smelled of hay and leather, a comforting scent after the dust of the road. Frederick was still catching his breath when a shadow fell across the entrance. "That's a fine horse," came a voice, low and steady. "Bred for speed, if I'm not mistaken." Frederick turned to find an older man leaning against the stable door, his arms crossed and a knowing look in his eyes. Despite his age, there was something formidable about the way he stood—like a mountain that had weathered countless storms and remained unmoved. "Thank you, sir. His name is Thunder." "Fitting." The man pushed off from the doorframe and extended a hand. "Sir Roland. I've served this castle for over twenty years. And you would be the squire they've sent from the eastern provinces?" "Yes, sir. Frederick." He clasped the knight's hand, surprised by the strength still evident in that weathered grip. "Well then, Frederick," Sir Roland said, releasing his hand and gesturing toward the castle beyond, "welcome to a life you cannot yet imagine. Tend to your horse, and then we'll speak of what's expected of you. The path ahead is longer than you think." </nc-section>