<nc-section data-title="Version 1: Sir Roland's Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, the clang of armor made me turn. Sir Roland himself strode out from the shadows, towering above the stable boys who shrank from his gaze. His eyes, sharp as flint, assessed me in a single grave glance. "You must be Frederick," he said. His voice held neither warmth nor malice—only the weight of expectation. "Stow your things and see your horse cared for. We begin at dawn. The path to knighthood is neither easy nor gentle." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: A Knight’s Gentle Hand" data-color="green"> Near the stables, Sir Roland awaited with a reassuring smile. He stepped forward and offered his hand. "Welcome, Frederick. Thunder is a fine horse—treat him well and he will carry you far." Gesturing for a groom to help, Sir Roland clapped my shoulder, his grip steady but kind. "You are far from home, but among friends now. Tomorrow, you’ll meet your fellow squires. Tonight, rest easy—your journey begins soon." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: Shadows at Dusk" data-color="blue"> The scent of hay and horses mingled in the twilight as I approached the stables. From the gloom, a figure emerged—Sir Roland, clad in cloak and chainmail, his features set in thoughtful lines. He studied me in silence, then nodded. "Frederick, is it? You’ve courage to arrive as sunset falls. Come—let me show you where a squire finds his place in this castle." His words hinted at secrets in the stone corridors, and as I followed him, anticipation quickened in my chest. </nc-section>