Here are three alternate prose sections to continue the story: **Version 1 (Red)** As I rode up to the stables, Sir Roland turned to me with a look of stern approval. His eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed me, his gaze lingering on the leather on my armor. "What brings you to our humble abode, squire?" he asked, his deep voice booming through the calm evening air. I stood tall, trying to gauge his reaction. I had heard stories of his stern demeanor, and I aimed to keep a low profile. "Just seeking to learn the ways of combat, sire," I said, trying to hide my eagerness. "My father was a knight before the illness took him, and I aim to follow in his footsteps." **Version 2 (Green)** I climbed down from Thunder's back, my boots kicking up dust as I approached Sir Roland. He was standing near the stables, his piercing blue eyes gauging me with a practiced intensity. "Ah, young Frederick, excellent timing," he said, his deep voice like a rumble of thunder on a summer day. "I see you're eager to begin your training. I approve." As I approached, he handed me a stack of parchment and a quill, and I accepted it with a gesture of respect. "Your father was a good knight, was he?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with a hint of pride. "I hope you'll live up to your name's reputation." **Version 3 (Blue)** I slowed Thunder to a stop and approached Sir Roland, the only sound the clink of leather on the stone wall. He stood at the stables, his broad shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed slightly, as if sizing me up. "Ah, a new face," he observed, his voice like a slow, measured beat. "I've never seen much of the city's young nobility, so I consider this the first step to becoming a true knight." He stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword at his side, its blue-green gleam catching the fading light of the sun. "Tell me, child, what makes you think you're ready to take on the challenges that lie ahead?"