Here are the alternate prose sections: **Version 1 (red)** As I approached the stables, I spotted Sir Roland, the local knight, standing near the entrance. He was old and weathered, with a thick beard and a helmet that seemed as black as coal. He eyed me with a keen gaze, his Expression unreadable, but his piercing blue eyes seemed to bore into my very soul. "Ah, Frederick, you must be the new squire I've heard about," he said in a deep, rumbling voice. "I trust you're prepared for the hard work ahead?" **Version 2 (green)** The local knight, Sir Roland, gazed at me with an unreadable intensity, his eyes narrowing as I approached the stables. His rugged features told tales of countless battles fought and fought again, and his strong, weathered features struck fear into my heart. Yet, as he spoke, his voice carried an air of dignified experience, tempered and cool as the morning dew on the moors. "Ah, Frederick, a new face, no doubt. I trust you're ready to prove yourself worthy to serve as my squire, despite the treacherous path that lay ahead." **Version 3 (blue)** I dismounted Thunder, my horse's steady rhythm a soothing companion on a long day ahead. The stables loomed in the distance, a rusty shadow cast by the fading sun. As I approached, Sir Roland emerged from the entrance, his eyes piercing and distant. His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his sword, its worn leather grip telling stories of countless battles won and lost. "So, you're the one I've heard rumors about, Frederick. A young one, eager to prove yourself," He spoke with a measured tone, his expression unreadable, like a page filled with unspoken secrets.