<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="red"> I reined Thunder to a halt just outside the stables, the scent of hay and horseflesh thick in the air. As I swung down from the saddle, a figure detached itself from the shadows of the large oak doors. He was a mountain of a man, his plate armor scarred and dinted from a hundred battles. A grimace, not a smile, twisted his lips. "So, you're the new boy," he grumbled, his voice a low rumble like shifting stones. "Another squire who thinks glory is won on a sunny afternoon ride." He stepped closer, and I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. "I am Sir Roland. Around here, you'll do as I say, when I say it. Your first lesson is learning that the stable needs mucking more than the kingdom needs saving. Now, get to it." He gestured with a gauntleted hand towards a pitchfork leaning against the wall, his eyes cold and appraising. There was no welcome in them, only a challenge. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="green"> I brought Thunder to a gentle stop by the stables, his flanks heaving slightly from the ride. An older man with a neatly trimmed grey beard and kind, crinkled eyes was currying a dapple-grey mare. He looked up as I dismounted, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face. "You must be young Frederick," he said, his voice as smooth as aged leather. "We've been expecting you. I am Sir Roland." He set down his curry comb and wiped his hands on his tunic before extending one to me. His grip was firm, but not crushing. "A fine animal," he nodded towards Thunder. "A knight's greatest ally is his mount, remember that. They sense fear, they sense respect. Treat him well, and he will carry you through fire and smoke. Now, let's get him settled and you can meet the others. The path of a knight is long, but it begins with a single step, and a well-bedded stall." He clapped me on the shoulder, and for the first time, the weight of my new life felt less like a burden and more like an honor. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="blue"> As I approached the stables, a man stood silhouetted against the last rays of the setting sun, his polished armor gleaming like liquid silver. He was tall and straight-backed, his posture alone speaking of a noble bearing. I recognized him from the tapestries in the great hall—Sir Roland, the Knight of the Silver Gryphon. He turned as I drew near, his face handsome but etched with a deep, unspoken sorrow. "You are Frederick," he stated. It was not a question. He had a voice that was calm and clear, yet carried the weight of great distance. "I am Sir Roland. Welcome to Oakhaven." He gave a slight, formal bow of his head. "Your training begins at dawn. The Master of Arms will see to your instruction. I trust your journey was without incident." His eyes, the color of a winter sky, seemed to look right through me, as if searching for something I couldn't see. He offered no hand, no further words, simply a quiet, solemn presence that was more intimidating than any shouted command. </nc-section>