<nc-section data-title="The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted Thunder, a figure emerged from the shadows of the stables. Sir Roland stood tall, his armor gleaming in the fading light. His face was etched with stern lines, and his eyes narrowed as they fell upon me. "Frederick, I presume," he said, his voice like grinding stones. "You're late. Training began at dawn." I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "I... I was told to arrive by sunset, Sir Roland." His lips curled into what might have been a sneer. "And you obeyed the bare minimum. That's not how we train future knights here. Every moment of daylight is precious. Every second you waste is a second your future king remains unprotected." He gestured sharply to a young stable boy. "Take this horse. And you," he turned back to me, "follow me. Your first lesson begins now, and it's about punctuality. Or rather, your lack of it." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Gracious Knight" data-color="green"> As I led Thunder toward the stables, a knight in polished silver armor approached with a warm smile. The setting sun reflected off his bald head as he extended a gauntleted hand. "You must be Frederick," he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "I'm Sir Roland. Welcome to Castle Veridian." I took his hand, surprised by his firm but friendly grip. "It's an honor, Sir Roland." "The honor is mine, young squire. We've heard good things about you from the village elder." He patted Thunder's neck, and the stallion whinnied in response. "Ah, a fine mount. You take good care of him. That's the first sign of a worthy knight." He gestured toward the castle. "Come, let me show you to your quarters. Training begins tomorrow at dawn, but tonight, you'll join us for supper. Every knight needs a good meal and a proper rest before the real work begins." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Mysterious Mentor" data-color="blue"> Thunder whinnied nervously as I approached the stables. Something felt... different. That's when I noticed him leaning against the stable wall, half-hidden in the gathering darkness. Sir Roland was younger than I expected, with a scar running from his left eyebrow to his jawline. His eyes, however, were ancient—holding secrets I couldn't begin to fathom. "Frederick of the Eastern Vale," he said, pushing off the wall and stepping into the light. "I've been waiting for you." "Sir Roland?" I asked, startled that he knew my full name. He nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. "The rumors about you are true. I saw it in your eyes the moment you rode through the gates. The same fire I once had." I frowned, confused. "I don't understand." "You will," he said mysteriously. "But not here. Not where there are ears everywhere." He glanced around the courtyard. "Meet me in the armory at midnight. There's much to discuss about your training—and about why you're really here." </nc-section>