<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Gallant Greeting" data-color="red"> As I dismounted by the stables, a tall figure in gleaming armor strode toward me. Sir Roland—his reputation preceded him. His voice boomed warmly, "Welcome, Frederick! I trust your journey was fair?" He extended a strong, calloused hand in greeting. I grasped it, trying to steady my nerves. Around us, stable hands paused their work to glance, and horses whickered softly. With a nod, Sir Roland guided me toward the inner courtyard, already speaking of tomorrow’s training and the expectations that awaited me in this new chapter of my life. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Knight’s Appraisal" data-color="green"> Near the stables, the scent of hay mingled with leather and horse. Sir Roland stood waiting, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze appraising every inch of me as I approached. "You must be Frederick," he said, his tone neither warm nor harsh, but measured. "We value diligence here above all else. Are you prepared to work hard for your place?" I nodded, suppressing a shiver of anticipation and anxiety. The knight’s lips twitched into the hint of a smile as he gestured for me to follow him toward the heart of the keep. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: An Unexpected Welcome" data-color="blue"> Just as I led Thunder toward a free stall, a shadow fell across the hay-strewn aisle. Sir Roland, his cape dusted with straw, approached carrying a pail. He offered me a crooked grin. "You must be Frederick. Every great knight starts here, mucking stalls and tending hooves." He handed me a brush. The gesture surprised me, and as I accepted, he clapped me on the back. "Let’s see how well you can care for Thunder—before you learn to wield a sword." His laughter echoed warmly, and the tension eased from my shoulders. </nc-section>