<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted Thunder near the weathered stone stables, a towering figure emerged from the shadows. Sir Roland, his scarred face stern beneath graying hair, approached with heavy steps that echoed against the cobblestones. His armor bore the dents of countless battles, and his piercing blue eyes studied me with the intensity of a hawk evaluating its prey. "So, you're the new whelp," he growled, his voice rough as gravel. "I've seen a hundred like you come through these gates, boy. Most don't last a fortnight." He circled me slowly, like a predator sizing up its quarry. "Think you have what it takes to serve the realm?" </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Wise Mentor" data-color="green"> The gentle whinny of horses guided me toward the stables, where I found Sir Roland tending to a magnificent black destrier. Unlike the imposing figure I had imagined, he was a man of average height with kind eyes that crinkled at the corners from years of smiling. "You must be Frederick," he said warmly, extending a calloused hand marked by honest work. "I've heard much about you from your father's letters. A fine man, your father—served with him in the Border Wars." He patted Thunder's neck appreciatively. "A noble steed you have there. Come, let's get him settled, and then we'll speak of your training. There's much to learn, but we'll take it one step at a time." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Mysterious Guardian" data-color="blue"> The stables lay shrouded in evening mist as I led Thunder through the ancient archway. From within the shadows between the stalls, a figure materialized as if conjured from the very darkness itself. Sir Roland moved with an almost supernatural grace, his midnight-blue cloak seeming to ripple with its own wind. His face was ageless, neither young nor old, and his silver eyes held depths that spoke of secrets beyond mortal understanding. "The dragons whisper of your coming," he said in a voice like silk over steel. "They say you carry the old blood, young Frederick. Tell me—do you dream of fire and wings?" His gaze pierced through me as if he could see into my very soul. </nc-section>