<nc-section data-title="Sir Roland" data-color="red"> Sir Roland stood by the open stable doors, his armor already caked in the day's dust. His face was grim, his eyes scanning the distance like a hawk spotting a threat. He didn't offer a smile as I dismounted, Thunder huffing nervously at the stiff posture of the man. "The days are short and the shadows are long, squire," he rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "Make yourself useful, and quickly. The King has concerns that won't wait for sunrise." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Warm Welcome" data-color="green"> Sir Roland emerged from the stables, the smell of hay and sweet earth enveloping me. A rare grin cracked his weathered face, revealing missing teeth that only added to his charm. He clapped a heavy hand on Thunder's neck, then turned it toward me. "Don't let the stone walls scare you, young Frederick," he said, his voice filled with the warmth of the dying sun. "Inside these walls, we don't just train horses. We forge men. Now, come inside. Dinnertime is approaching, and the cook makes the best stew in the kingdom." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Knight's Duty" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland waited near the water trough, his tunic loose to let the evening air cool his shoulders. He looked at me with eyes that held the weight of a thousand campaigns. "The castle sleeps, but duty never does," he whispered, not to me, but to the darkening sky. He signaled to a stable boy and pointed to my saddlebag. "Your life changes in that bag, squire. Treat it with the respect due a knight, or you will never survive the night watch." He extended a gauntleted hand, offering silence instead of a greeting. </nc-section>