Here are the three alternate prose sections: <nc-section data-title="The Local Knight's Greeting" data-color="red"> Sir Roland, a battle-scarred knight with a thick beard and piercing blue eyes, approached me with a firm handshake. "Greetings, young squire," he boomed, his voice like thunder on a summer day. I trembled slightly as he eyed me up and down, my heart racing with excitement and nerves. He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I see you've arrived. Let's see how you handle a warm welcome." <nc-section data-title="A Study in Calm" data-color="green"> Sir Roland's gesture invited me to follow him, and I trailed behind as we walked towards the stables. The sound of neighs and clucks filled the air, a soothing melody that calmed my racing thoughts. As we approached the stalls, Sir Roland nodded to the groom, who handed him a foaming tankard of ale. "Ah, good ser Thomas, let us speak of our new protégé," he said, his voice low and soothing, like a gentle brook. The sound of the horse's hooves clinking against the stone floor was the only other disturbance in the peaceful scene. <nc-section data-title="A Call to Arms" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland's eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity as he grasped my shoulder, his gaze boring into mine. "Welcome, Frederick, to the castle of your destiny," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "You have been chosen for greatness, and I will not tolerate weakness. You will learn the ways of combat, of strategy, of leadership. You will fall in battle, but you will rise again, stronger and more battle-hardened." His grip on my shoulder tightened, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I sensed the weight of his expectations.