Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DA31C5J04G7P2VGZDSA4TF

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: A Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> I had barely swung down from Thunder's saddle when a broad-shouldered man strode out from the stable doors, wiping his hands on a leather apron. His beard was grey at the chin, and a long scar ran from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. "You must be the new squire," he said, looking me over from boots to bridle. "Frederick, is it? I am Sir Roland. I trained half the knights in this kingdom, and I expect you to be better than the last one who rode through those gates." I straightened my shoulders and offered a bow. "I'll do my best, Sir." "Your best." He snorted and took Thunder's reins from my hand, running an appraising palm along the stallion's neck. "A fine beast, but he has been ridden hard. Training starts at dawn. Until then, you will muck out every stall in this stable. Do you understand?" I glanced at the long row of stalls and swallowed. "Yes, Sir Roland." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Friendly Knight" data-color="green"> The stable doors swung open, and a warm laugh rang out across the courtyard. A tall knight with sun-browned skin and a crooked smile jogged toward me, his armor clanking with every step. "Ah, you made it before the supper bell! Sir Roland's been pacing since noon, pretending he wasn't waiting for you." He clapped a hand on my shoulder and grinned. "I am Roland, and I'm glad to meet you, Frederick. Come, let's get Thunder settled. He looks like he's carried you a long way." He led the stallion gently toward a clean stall, murmuring softly to the horse as though they were old friends. I watched in surprise as Thunder's ears relaxed and his restless snorting faded to a calm breath. "You have a gift with horses," Roland said, glancing back at me. "That's a good start. The rest of the castle will be easier to learn, I promise you." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Knight's Measure" data-color="blue"> A figure stepped out of the shadows beside the stables, so still that I had not noticed him at all. He was a knight in dented steel, his cloak faded from crimson to rust, and he regarded me with eyes as grey and unreadable as a winter sky. "Frederick," he said. It was not a question. "I am Sir Roland. The king sent word that you would arrive at sundown. You are later than I expected." "I was delayed by the road, Sir," I replied, keeping my voice steady. Roland studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded once, almost imperceptibly. "Roads delay everyone. What matters is what a man does once he arrives. Leave your saddlebags in the tack room, then meet me in the training yard. I want to see how you handle a blade before supper." He turned away without another word, and I realized I had been holding my breath. </nc-section>