Run: 2026-10-09-01M4G0WM5HB9B1TC6NQ53HQ3RX

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: A Welcome at the Stables" data-color="red"> I had barely dismounted when a broad-shouldered man stepped out from the shadow of the stable doors, wiping his gloved hands on a rag. His grey beard was trimmed close, and a scar ran white across his left cheek. Behind him, a stable boy scrambled to take Thunder's reins, and the great stallion snorted, tossing his head as if he approved of the new hands. "You must be Frederick," the man said, his voice rough but not unkind. "I am Sir Roland. I have trained every squire in this castle for twenty years, and I can tell you in one glance that you have ridden hard to get here. Did the road from the north treat you poorly?" I straightened my shoulders and bowed as my father had taught me. "It did, Sir Roland. But I am glad to be here." He studied me for a long moment, his eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. "Good. Gladness is a start. Pride will get you a bruise, but gladness will get you through the first winter. Come, leave your saddlebags with the boy. Your training begins at dawn, and I would have you see the armory before the lamps are lit." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Hard Judgment" data-color="green"> Sir Roland did not smile as he approached. He walked a slow circle around me, the way a farmer inspects a horse at market, his boots crunching on the gravel. Finally he stopped before me and tapped my chest with two fingers. "Frederick, son of Alric. Your letter spoke of courage. It did not mention that you ride like a sack of grain." His mouth twitched, though his eyes stayed serious. "I jest, lad. Thunder carried you well, and I can see he trusts you. A horse knows its rider's heart. Now, the stables are your first lesson. Every squire in this castle begins by mucking stalls, grooming mounts, and learning that a knight who will not care for his own steed is no knight at all." I glanced toward the stable boy, who was already leading Thunder away with a gentleness that surprised me. "I understand, sir." "We shall see whether you understand or merely obey," Sir Roland replied. "Understanding comes later, when you are tired, cold, and wondering why you ever left home. Come. Supper is in the great hall, and you will meet the others who have survived my training before you." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Knight's Secret" data-color="blue"> When I reached the stables, Sir Roland was already waiting, leaning against a post with his arms folded. He did not greet me with words at first. Instead, his gaze drifted past my shoulder toward the distant mountains, where the last light of the sun clung to the snowy peaks. "Do you see those peaks, Frederick?" he asked quietly. "Beyond them lies the old dragon road. No one has traveled it in eighty years, and no one speaks of what waits there." I felt a shiver run down my spine. "Dragons are only tales, sir." "So said my own master, once." Roland finally turned to face me, and in the fading light his expression seemed heavier than before. "Welcome to the castle. You will learn the sword, the shield, and the lance. But there are other lessons here, older ones, and you will be asked to carry them one day. For now, rest. Tomorrow, I will show you what they mean." </nc-section>