<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Dashing Knight" data-color="red"> I glided back in the saddle with a swift motion, my steed jackknifing to a stop before the impressive gates. Sir Roland approached, his shiny armor glistening in the fading light. "Well met, young Frederick," he said with a weary smile. "I trust your journey was uneventful." I nodded, trying to contain my excitement as I dismounted, the heavy reins dangling limply from my grip. He grasped my arm and led me to a rustic inn were more knights were gathered, awaiting their welcome feast. "The professor is eager to see you," he added, giving me a conspiratorial wink before heading for the hall. The sight of so many armored men sent my heart thumping faster. This was it, I thought, an opportunity I had trained for my whole life. I followed the impressive crowd into the well-lit halls of the inn, the delicious smells of roasted meat thick in the air. I tried to take it all in, the atmosphere charged with laughter and jest, the fire crackling companionably with the larger throng gathered to welcome Sir Roland back from his final campaign. I had mixed feelings, I must admit. Part of me was thrilled at the thought of the experiences that lay ahead, the history yet to be made, but another part of me harbored doubts. What if I could not rise to the challenge that awaited me? What if I failed? One glance at the eager, like-minded faces around me and I knew I could and would confront those doubts head-on. I gave a small nod as an acknowledgement to presume Sir Roland had told them I had arrived, and I prioritized keeping my composure. I had chosen this path, I reminded myself. Now I would venture forward with fire in my gut and determination in my heart.