Run: 2026-09-02-01M1HJ1XYWPYDYFPFXNSHGW38Z

<nc-section data-title="The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> I reined Thunder to a halt near the lower courtyard, where the scent of cedar shavings, damp hay, and horse sweat hung thick in the twilight air. A hulking figure detached himself from the stable shadows. Sir Roland stood clad in boiled leather, his scarred cheek illuminated by the flickering torchlight. His piercing gray eyes took in my posture, the condition of my mount, and the nervous grip I had on the reins. "Dismount, lad," Roland commanded, his voice like gravel grinding beneath an iron boot. "A knight’s worth begins with the care of his beast, not the pride in his saddle. Let us see if your hands are meant for steel or shovel." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="An Old Friend's Embrace" data-color="green"> As Thunder trotted into the warmth of the stable yard, a booming laugh echoed over the clatter of hooves. Sir Roland strode forward, wiping grease from a whetstone onto a rag tucked into his belt. Broad-shouldered with a greying beard that crinkled with good humor, he caught Thunder’s bridle with practiced ease and clapped a heavy, armored hand onto my shoulder. "Frederick! By the heavens, look at you—sprouting up like a wild thistle," Roland chuckled warmly, his eyes dancing with memories of my father. "Your journey was long, but you made good time. Stable your mount and shake off the dust of the road; tonight we feast, but tomorrow your true trial begins." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Omens in the Stable Yard" data-color="blue"> The stable lanterns flickered erratically as I brought Thunder to a halt, the stallion snorting and shifting uneasily on the cobblestones. Out from the gloom stepped Sir Roland. The veteran knight wore a long, weathered travel cloak, his hand resting instinctively on the pommel of a broadsword inscribed with ancient runes. He did not smile. "Keep a firm hand on the reins, boy," Roland warned in a low, measured tone, scanning the darkening skies above the parapets before fixing his gaze upon me. "The horses have been skittish for three nights straight. They smell what rides upon the mountain winds. Tell me, Frederick... did you encounter any smoke upon the northern trail?" </nc-section>