<nc-section data-title="Section 1: The Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> Near the bustling stables, a figure of imposing stature awaited me. Clad in burnished steel that gleamed even in the fading light, Sir Roland emerged from the shadows. His face, etched with the lines of countless battles, softened into a stern nod as I dismounted. "Welcome to Castle Greystone, young one," he boomed, his voice like the grinding of stones. "I am Sir Roland. Your training begins at dawn." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Section 2: A Sturdy Handshake" data-color="green"> As Thunder snorted, settling by the horses' trough, a man with a weathered face and a kind smile approached. He wore the sigil of the kingdom on his tunic. "You must be Frederick," he said, extending a calloused hand. "Sir Roland, at your service. Glad to have you here. The squire's life isn't an easy one, but it's an honorable one." His grip was firm, a promise of the challenges to come. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Section 3: An Observant Eye" data-color="blue"> I led Thunder toward the stables, the scent of hay and horseflesh filling the air. A knight, his armor reflecting the twilight, stood by the stablemaster's post, his gaze sharp and assessing. He stepped forward as I approached, a man who seemed carved from the very stone of the castle walls. "Frederick, I presume," he stated, his voice a low rumble. "Sir Roland. The king has high hopes for you. Let us hope you do not disappoint." </nc-section>