<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight’s Introduction (Version 1)" data-color="red"> Frederick guided Thunder through the yawning wooden doors of the stables, the scent of hay and horse sweat filling his nostrils. As he led the stallion toward a trough, a tall figure in polished armor emerged from the shadows—Sir Roland, the kingdom’s esteemed knight. Steel gleamed along Roland’s broad pauldron, and his cloak of crimson trimmed in silver caught the lantern light. “Welcome to Castle Ardent, young squire,” Roland intoned, his voice both warm and commanding. He extended a gauntleted hand. “I am Sir Roland, Knight of the Azure Banner. Your reputation precedes you. They say you possess unwavering courage—qualities every knight must hone.” Frederick bowed deeply, heart pounding. “Sir, I am honored to serve under your guidance.” Roland studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Come. Tomorrow at dawn, we begin your first lesson—mastering the sword and, more importantly, mastering yourself.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Friendly Jest (Version 2)" data-color="green"> Frederick led Thunder into the bustling stable courtyard, where grooms bustled about feeding and brushing horses. Suddenly, a booming laugh echoed from beneath a wooden awning. A broad-shouldered knight hefted a saddle with one hand, his sun-bronzed face breaking into a grin. “Well met, lad!” he called, tossing the saddle aside with effortless ease. “You must be the new squirt they’re grooming for glory. I’m Sir Roland—armorer by trade, knight by accident.” He clapped Frederick on the back so heartily the young squire nearly lost his footing. Frederick blinked, then forced a polite smile. “It’s an honor, Sir Roland.” Roland winked. “Honor, she says! Later tonight, you’ll share a mug of ale with me by the fire. But first—show me what you’ve got. Let’s see if your hands are as steady as your tongue.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: Shadows at the Stables (Version 3)" data-color="blue"> A low wind hissed through the eaves as Frederick led Thunder between rows of flickering lanterns. The stable lay hushed, save for the soft nickering of horses. From the far corner strode a figure cloaked in moonlight—Sir Roland, his armor dark as storm clouds, visor half-lowered. “Frederick,” Roland said without preamble. His voice carried an edge, as though he weighed every word. “You arrive at a perilous time. Reports of unrest stir beyond these walls.” He stepped closer, eyes glinting beneath steel. “Your training will not be mere drills. You must learn to read shadow and steel alike.” Frederick swallowed, meeting Roland’s gaze. “I will do whatever it takes, Sir.” A faint smile tugged at Roland’s lips. “Good. The last dragon’s prophecy speaks of a squire who walks between light and dark. We begin at dawn.” With that, he turned and vanished into the gloom, leaving Frederick’s heart racing against the silent patter of Thunder’s hooves. </nc-section>