<nc-section data-title="A Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted, a towering figure emerged from the shadows of the stables. Clad in burnished steel, with a grizzled beard and eyes that missed nothing, Sir Roland regarded me with a mixture of appraisal and impatience. "You're late, boy," he grunted, his voice like pebbles grinding together. "The sun shows no mercy, and neither will the training yard." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Knight's Appraisal" data-color="green"> Near the scent of hay and horse sweat, a knight of formidable presence awaited. Sir Roland, his armor bearing the scars of many battles, stepped forward. He studied me from head to foot, his gaze sharp and discerning. "Frederick, they call you," he stated, less a question and more an acknowledgment of my arrival. "Let's see if there's more than just eagerness in your step." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Encounter by the Bales" data-color="blue"> Thunder’s hooves finally stilled beside a stack of fresh hay bales. A knight, his silhouette framed by the fading light, approached with a measured tread. Sir Roland, known throughout the realm for his skill and stoicism, offered a curt nod. "Squire Frederick," he acknowledged, his voice carrying a gruff authority. "You've made it. Now, let's get your gear sorted. Daybreak waits for no one." </nc-section>