<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight’s Welcome (Version 1)" data-color="red"> Frederick led Thunder into the lantern-lit stable courtyard, his heart pounding at every distant clang of steel. At the far end, a tall figure in gleaming plate leaned against the stone wall, one gauntleted hand resting on the pommel of a longsword. The knight’s crest—a coiled dragon above twin spears—glinted in the torchlight. “Welcome to Ironhold,” the knight said, voice warm but edged with authority. He strode forward, snow-white cloak billowing behind him. “I am Sir Roland of House Valen. I trust your journey was not too arduous?” Frederick lowered himself from Thunder’s back and offered a respectful bow. “My lord, I—” “Call me Roland,” the knight interrupted, extending a scarred hand. “There’s no need for titles among comrades. Tell me of your training, and afterwards I’ll introduce you to Master Blackthorn. He’ll see you to the yard come dawn.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight’s Welcome (Version 2)" data-color="green"> The big bay stallion snorted happily under Frederick as he led him toward the lively stable corridor. Laughter echoed from a group of squires mucking out stalls. Suddenly a tall knight appeared, boots crunching on gravel. He tipped his helm back to reveal an easy grin and warm brown eyes. “Well met, lad!” the knight called, clapping Frederick on the shoulder so heartily Frederick nearly lost his balance. “I’m Sir Roland. You must be the squire that rode in this afternoon. And this must be Thunder—he’s a grand mount.” Frederick returned the smile, brushing a lock of hair from his brow. “I am, sir. It’s an honor.” Roland laughed and swung an arm toward the open courtyard. “Enough ceremony! Come with me—there’s ale in the mess hall and plenty of tales waiting by the hearth. You’ll want to fuel up before tomorrow’s drills.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Knight’s Welcome (Version 3)" data-color="blue"> Moonlight danced on polished armor as Frederick led Thunder down the shadowed lane beside the stables. At its end stood a lone knight, his helm under one arm, face half-hidden beneath a dark hood. His eyes flickered like embers when he spoke. “You must be the new squire,” he said softly. “Sir Roland, at your service.” He bowed, then studied Frederick with unsettling intensity. “This castle holds more than just laurels and banners. Keep your wits about you. Darkness stirs beyond these walls.” Frederick swallowed, heart thudding. “Sir Roland, I—” “Fear not,” Roland interrupted, replacing his hood. “By dawn, you’ll join the others in the practice yard. But heed this: the last dragon’s shadow is long. And I will be watching you, Frederick of Thornhaven.” </nc-section>