Run: 2026-09-03-01M1K9Q22KYAAJ3SY8E9B6G8HB

<nc-section data-title="The Stern Greeting" data-color="red"> I reined Thunder to a halt just inside the courtyard, the clatter of hooves echoing off the cobblestones. A tall figure emerged from the shadow of the stables, his armor dull but meticulously kept. Sir Roland’s gaze swept over me like a blade being drawn. “You’re late,” he said, his voice flat as iron. “The sun is already down, and a squire who cannot keep time will not keep his head in battle.” I opened my mouth to explain the wind had slowed us on the ridge, but he raised a gauntleted hand. “Stable your horse. Then find me in the armory. We’ll see if your hands are good for more than holding reins.” He turned and walked away before I could answer, leaving me with the cold certainty that I had just met a man who would not suffer weakness—or excuses. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Warm Welcome" data-color="green"> I had barely dismounted when Sir Roland appeared from the stables, a bucket of oats in one hand and a broad smile on his weathered face. “So you’re Frederick,” he said, setting the bucket down and clasping my shoulder with a grip that felt like a promise. “The whole castle’s been whispering about the young squire who rode in with the sunset. Thunder, is it? Fine beast.” He reached up and stroked the stallion’s neck, and Thunder nickered softly. “Come, let’s get him fed and watered. Then I’ll show you where you’ll sleep.” He paused, his eyes crinkling. “It’s not all sword drills and shining armor, lad. But if you work hard and keep your heart true, you’ll do well here.” I found myself smiling back, the knot of nerves in my chest loosening for the first time since I’d left home. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Cryptic Warning" data-color="blue"> As I led Thunder toward the stables, a voice drifted from the half-open door—low, measured, and strangely sad. Sir Roland stepped out, and though he was only a few years older than my father, his eyes seemed to carry the weight of centuries. “You came after all,” he said, more to himself than to me. “The ravens said you would.” He took Thunder’s reins from my hand, his gauntlet cold against my skin for a brief moment. “There is a mark on you, boy. I can see it now, even in this fading light.” He glanced toward the castle walls, where the first stars were pricking the purple sky. “Train hard, but do not trust every kind face. The last dragon’s shadow is long, and it has already found this place.” He walked into the stable, and I followed, my heart thudding with questions I did not yet know how to ask. </nc-section>