<nc-section data-title="Version 1" data-color="red"> As Frederick dismounted, a figure emerged from the deepening shadows of the stable archway. He was a mountain of a man, encased in dented, soot-blackened steel that had clearly seen its share of battles. A thick, grey-streaked beard covered a jaw that looked as though it were carved from granite, and his eyes, like chips of ice, missed nothing. &quot;You must be the new whelp,&quot; his voice was a low growl, like stones grinding together. &quot;I am Sir Roland. Don&#x27;t expect any coddling here. Your horse is your life, second only to your sword. See to it before you even think of finding your own supper.&quot; He didn't offer a hand, merely a curt, dismissive nod before turning his gaze to the towering castle walls, as if Frederick were already a forgotten detail. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2" data-color="green"> A hearty laugh echoed from the stables as Frederick swung his leg over Thunder's saddle. A knight with a warm, weathered face and a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes strode forward, his hand outstretched. His armor was well-kept but practical, and he moved with an easy, confident grace. &quot;Welcome, lad! You must be Frederick. I&#x27;m Sir Roland,&quot; he boomed, his grip firm and reassuring. &quot;That's a fine beast you've got there. Come, let&#x27;s get him settled in. The stable boys will see to his needs. You look like you've had a long ride; the cook's kept a hot meal waiting for you.&quot; He clapped Frederick on the shoulder, a gesture of genuine welcome that instantly eased the young squire's nerves. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3" data-color="blue"> Frederick had just taken the reins to lead Thunder into the stables when a voice, smooth and quiet as polished steel, cut through the evening air. &quot;The sun sets on your old life, boy.&quot; Leaning against a wooden post, almost one with the shadows, was a knight. He wasn't as large as the legends described, but he possessed a coiled stillness that was far more intimidating. His face was sharp, impassive, and his gaze was unnervingly direct, seeming to weigh and measure Frederick in a single glance. &quot;I am Sir Roland,&quot; he said, pushing himself off the post without a sound. &quot;They say you have a quick mind. We shall see. The stables are this way. Do not be late for supper; punctuality is a courtesy, and here, it is also a virtue.&quot; He turned and walked away, not looking back to see if Frederick followed. </nc-section>