Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9X4T8N8C9WYY8QRCPY1EQ

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: A Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> As Thunder's hooves clattered against the cobblestones near the stables, a broad-shouldered figure emerged from the shadows of the archway. His armor caught the last rays of sunlight, and a scar ran along his jaw—a testament to battles long past. "You must be the new squire," the man said, his voice deep and steady as a war drum. "I am Sir Roland. I've been expecting you, boy." Frederick swung down from his horse, nearly stumbling as his travel-weary legs met solid ground. He straightened quickly, trying to muster the composure befitting a future knight. "Yes, sir. Frederick, son of—" "I know whose son you are," Sir Roland interrupted, though not unkindly. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Your father spoke of you often. Come, let's get that horse settled before we discuss what lies ahead." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Stable Encounters" data-color="green"> The stable boys scattered as Frederick approached, whispering amongst themselves. He caught only fragments of their words—"new squire," "Sir Roland," "test of worth." A tall knight stepped out from between the stalls, wiping his hands on a cloth stained with horse liniment. His eyes, sharp and assessing, swept over Frederick from head to toe. "So you're the one Lord Aldric sent for," the knight said. "Sir Roland, at your service—though I suspect you already knew that." Frederick nodded, unsure whether to bow or extend a hand. He settled for an awkward half-bow that made Sir Roland chuckle. "Relax, lad. We'll have plenty of time for formalities later. Right now, I care more about how you handle a horse than how you handle a curtsy." He gestured toward Thunder. "Fine animal. Let's see if you know how to care for him properly—that'll tell me more about your character than any letter of introduction." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Stern Instructor" data-color="blue"> The scent of hay and horse sweat filled the air as Frederick led Thunder toward the stables. He hadn't expected to be met so soon, but there, leaning against a wooden post with arms crossed, stood a knight whose reputation had clearly preceded him—armor slightly worn, posture unmistakably disciplined. "You're late," Sir Roland said flatly, not bothering with pleasantries. "I expected you before sundown." Frederick's heart sank. "My apologies, sir. The roads were—" "Excuses are for those who don't intend to improve." Sir Roland pushed off from the post and circled Thunder slowly, inspecting the horse with a critical eye. "But you made good time despite the terrain, I'll give you that. Perhaps there's potential in you yet." He finally met Frederick's gaze directly, his expression unreadable. "I am Sir Roland, and for the foreseeable future, your training falls to me. Tomorrow, we begin at dawn—not a moment later. Tonight, see to your horse. A squire who neglects his mount neglects his duty." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Frederick alone with Thunder and the weight of expectation settling on his shoulders. </nc-section>