<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 stood before me, his scarred face stern beneath graying hair, chainmail glinting in the dying light. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword as his steel-gray eyes assessed me with obvious disappointment. "So, you're the boy they sent," he growled, his voice like grinding stone. "I've seen scarecrows with better posture. Tell me, whelp—can you even lift a sword, or shall I find you a wooden stick to play with?" His words cut deeper than any blade, and I felt my cheeks burn with shame as stable boys snickered from nearby stalls. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Wise Mentor" data-color="green"> A gentle hand steadied Thunder's reins as I slid from the saddle, and I looked up to see a knight whose weathered face bore the marks of countless battles yet radiated warmth. Sir Roland's beard was streaked with silver, and his kind eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Ah, young Frederick," he said, his voice rich with experience and patience. "I've been expecting you. Your father spoke truly—you have the bearing of a future knight." He patted my shoulder reassuringly. "Come, let's see to your horse first. A true knight always cares for his mount before himself. There will be time enough for talk of swords and honor once Thunder is properly settled." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Mysterious Guardian" data-color="blue"> Thunder snorted nervously as a cloaked figure stepped from the stable's entrance, moving with fluid grace despite the heavy armor beneath his dark mantle. Sir Roland's face remained hidden in shadow, but his presence commanded immediate respect. Ancient runes glowed faintly on the pommel of his sheathed blade. "Frederick of Millbrook," his voice carried an otherworldly resonance that seemed to echo from the very stones. "The prophets spoke of your coming. You arrive at a crucial hour—the dragons stir in the eastern mountains, and old magics awaken." His piercing blue eyes seemed to see straight into my soul. "Tell me, boy, do you dream of fire?" </nc-section>