<nc-section data-title="Version 1: A Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> Sir Roland stood by the stables, his armor gleaming despite the fading light. His weathered face bore the scars of countless battles, and his steel-gray eyes fixed upon Frederick with an intensity that made the young squire's stomach tighten. "So, you're the whelp they've sent me," he growled, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. "Late on your first day. Tell me, boy, what excuse do you have for keeping a knight of the realm waiting?" Thunder whinnied nervously, sensing the tension in the air as Frederick dismounted, his legs trembling slightly from both the long ride and the intimidating presence before him. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: A Warm Reception" data-color="green"> "Frederick!" called a hearty voice from near the stables. Sir Roland emerged from the shadows, a broad smile creasing his sun-bronzed face. Despite his imposing stature, there was a warmth in his hazel eyes that immediately put Frederick at ease. "Welcome to Castle Drakenhold, lad. That's a fine horse you have there." He reached out to stroke Thunder's muzzle with practiced gentleness. "I remember my first day as a squire—nervous as a cat in a thunderstorm. Come, let's get Thunder settled in the stables, and then we'll see about getting you some hot food. You must be famished after your journey." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: A Mysterious Encounter" data-color="blue"> A figure materialized from the shadows of the stable entrance, moving with the fluid grace of a predator. Sir Roland was younger than Frederick had expected, perhaps only a decade his senior, with raven-black hair tied back and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through him. "Frederick," the knight said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying clearly across the courtyard. "I've been expecting you." He glanced around cautiously before stepping closer. "Tell me, boy—on your journey here, did you notice anything... unusual? Any strange birds following you? Shadows that moved when they shouldn't?" His hand rested casually on the pommel of his sword, but Frederick noticed the white knuckles betraying his tension. </nc-section>