<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the bustling stables, a figure detached himself from the shadows of a large oak tree. "Frederick, I presume?" the man's voice boomed, deep and resonant. He was a powerfully built knight, his armor gleaming faintly in the twilight, though it was worn with the honest scars of many battles. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, were sharp and assessing. "I am Sir Roland. Welcome to Oakhaven." He offered a gloved hand, his grip firm and reassuring. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="green"> I led Thunder towards the stables, the earthy scent of straw and horseflesh filling the air. Just as I was about to enter, a man stepped out from one of the stable arches, wiping his hands on a rag. He was tall, with a kind, weathered face framed by a neatly trimmed beard. "You must be Frederick," he said, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable authority. He wore a simple, undorned tunic beneath a sturdy leather jerkin, but the sword at his hip and the easy confidence in his stance spoke volumes. "Sir Roland, at your service. Let me help you with your steed." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="blue"> The stables were a hive of activity, stablehands rushing about with buckets and bales of hay. I dismounted, my legs a little stiff from the long journey, and began to unbridle Thunder. Before I could finish, a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see a man standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. He was a knight, though his armor was less ornate than I'd imagined, practical and well-maintained. A friendly smile touched his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Good evening, Frederick," he said, his voice a warm baritone. "I am Sir Roland. I trust your journey was uneventful?" </nc-section>