Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PY7HZ806MJG27ANAJXYWY

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, a tall figure emerged from the shadows of the archway. Sir Roland, the local knight, regarded me with eyes as cold and sharp as a drawn blade. His armor, though polished, bore the scars of a hundred battles. "So, you're the new squire," he said, his voice like gravel. "Let's see if you have what it takes to serve under me." There was no warmth in his greeting, only the weight of expectation and the silent challenge of a man who had seen too many young men fail. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome" data-color="green"> I handed Thunder's reins to a stable boy and turned to find a broad-shouldered man striding toward me, a smile creasing his weathered face. "Frederick! You made it before nightfall—good lad," Sir Roland boomed, clasping my forearm in a grip like iron wrapped in kindness. "Your father spoke highly of you, and I see his spirit in your eyes. Come, you must be hungry after your journey. Tomorrow we begin your training, but tonight, you eat at my table as a guest." His warmth was like a hearth fire after a long ride through the cold. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome" data-color="blue"> The stables smelled of hay and horse sweat as I led Thunder inside. A lantern flickered near the far stall, and beneath its amber glow sat Sir Roland, mending a worn leather saddle with practiced hands. He looked up without surprise, as if he had been expecting me for hours. "The dragons have been restless lately," he said quietly, setting aside his needle. "That's why you're here, though I doubt they told you that at your village." I froze. Dragons? Sir Roland rose, his joints creaking like old timber, and studied my face. "Get some rest, boy. Tomorrow, I'll show you why the last dragon matters to us all." </nc-section>