Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEA32KNXDEJNKKH2JC6K1QF

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: A Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> As Thunder's hooves clattered onto the cobblestones of the castle courtyard, a broad-shouldered man in gleaming armor stepped out from the shadow of the stables. His beard was streaked with gray, and a long scar traced his jaw, yet his eyes held a warmth that put Frederick at ease. "You must be the new squire," the knight said, his voice deep and steady. "I am Sir Roland. Welcome to Castle Ashenmoor." Frederick dismounted quickly, nearly stumbling in his haste to bow. "Yes, sir. Frederick, son of Aldric the blacksmith." Sir Roland's lips curved into a faint smile as he clasped Frederick's shoulder with a firm, callused hand. "Aldric's boy, eh? Then you've got good steel in your blood. Come, let's get that horse settled before the stable master scolds us both." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Stable Introductions" data-color="green"> The scent of hay and horse mingled with the cool evening air as Frederick led Thunder toward the stables. A tall figure emerged from between the wooden stalls, his armor catching the last rays of sunlight. "Easy there, lad," the man called out, raising a hand in greeting. "That's a fine horse you've got. Not every squire arrives on a mount like that." Frederick straightened, recognizing the crest upon the man's breastplate. "Sir Roland? I was told to seek you out upon arrival." "Indeed you were." Roland stepped closer, studying Frederick with a knight's practiced eye. "You've traveled far, I can tell. Dust on your boots, weariness in your eyes. But there's something else there too—determination, perhaps." He nodded approvingly. "Good. You'll need it here. Now, let's see to your horse. Tales can wait until after supper." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Stable Yard" data-color="blue"> The stable yard was quieter than Frederick expected, save for the soft whinnies of horses settling in for the night. As he led Thunder toward an empty stall, a voice called out from behind a stack of hay bales. "You're late, squire—though I suppose the roads from the eastern villages aren't kind to travelers this time of year." Frederick turned to find a knight approaching, his armor dented from what looked like years of service, yet polished with evident pride. "Sir Roland, I presume?" "You presume correctly." The knight extended a hand, and Frederick clasped it firmly. "I've trained many squires in my time, but few arrive with a horse as spirited as yours. Thunder, is it? A fitting name." "How did you—" "The stable master sent word ahead. Little happens in this castle that escapes notice for long." Roland chuckled, gesturing toward the stable doors. "Come, let's get you both settled. Morning will bring your first lesson, and I daresay you'll want your rest before then." </nc-section>