Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H572J48P5X4BFFXMQD9NZH

<nc-section data-title="The Knight's Greeting" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, a towering figure in gleaming armor approached. "You must be Frederick," Sir Roland said, extending a gauntleted hand. "Your reputation as a rider precedes you, young squire. Thunder is a fine beast." I bowed deeply, my heart pounding. "I look forward to serving under you, Sir Roland." The knight's eyes crinkled with a knowing smile. "Then let us not waste the fading light. There is much to teach, and the dragons will not wait for us." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Warm Welcome" data-color="green"> The stables smelled of hay and oiled leather. Sir Roland was already there, brushing down his own warhorse as if he were a common groom. "Squire Frederick," he said without turning. "Good. A knight who tends his own horse can trust it in battle. Remember that." I hesitated, unsure whether to bow or fetch a brush. He turned and laughed. "Take off that travel-worn cloak, boy, and grab a brush. We'll see what you're made of before supper." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Shadows at the Gate" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland was waiting at the stables, but he was not looking at me. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where dark clouds gathered beyond the mountains. "You arrived at a dangerous time, Frederick," he said quietly. "The last dragon has been sighted near the northern passes." He turned to face me, and I saw worry carved into his weathered features. "Your training will not be gentle, and it will not be slow. Come. We have much to discuss before nightfall." </nc-section>