<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight’s Welcome – Version 1" data-color="red"> Frederick guided Thunder into the stable yard, the stallion’s flared nostrils misting in the cool evening air. A tall figure in silver-embossed armor approached, his crimson cloak brushing the cobblestones. Sir Roland bowed, his helm tucked beneath one arm. “Welcome to Castle Avelorn,” he said, his voice warm yet commanding. “I am Sir Roland of the Red Lance. I’ve heard of your skill with the sword—come, let us see if rumor matches reality.” With that, he offered Frederick a gauntleted hand, the firelight dancing across his polished breastplate. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight’s Welcome – Version 2" data-color="green"> Frederick tethered Thunder outside the stables and wiped sweat from his brow. From the shadows emerged Sir Roland, his emerald-green tabard shining beneath the torchlight. He clapped Frederick’s shoulder with an easy grin. “By my troth, you look every bit the knightly type,” he teased. “I’m Sir Roland, keeper of these grounds and occasional bearer of bad jokes.” He gestured toward a barrel of ale perched on the stable ledge. “First order of business: a drink to stoke your courage. After that, we’ll see if you can hold a lance as well as you can ride.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight’s Welcome – Version 3" data-color="blue"> Thunder snorted softly as Frederick led him past lantern-lit stalls. From between two oaks stepped Sir Roland, his azure cloak swirling like a wave. The knight’s gaze was sharp, yet not unkind. “You’ve come far, young squire,” Roland observed, voice low enough for only Frederick to hear. “Castle Avelorn is no idle place; it tests the heart as much as the blade.” He placed a gauntlet on Frederick’s arm, eyes meeting his. “Trust in your steed and in your instincts. Tonight, your true training begins.” </nc-section>