<nc-section data-title="Version 1: Sir Roland's Greeting" data-color="red"> As I dismounted Thunder near the stables, a towering figure emerged from the shadows of the gatehouse. Sir Roland was every bit the knight the stories had promised — broad-shouldered, clad in worn but well-maintained chainmail, with a jagged scar running from his left temple to his jaw. He studied me with steel-gray eyes that seemed to weigh my worth in a single glance. "You must be Frederick," he said, his voice deep and unhurried. He did not extend a hand. Instead, he took Thunder's reins from me with a practiced grip and handed them off to a stable boy without breaking eye contact. "Your father wrote ahead. He speaks highly of you, though I've learned that a father's praise and a squire's mettle are rarely the same thing." I straightened my back and met his gaze. "I intend to prove myself worthy, Sir Roland." The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "They all say that, boy. Come. Your training begins at dawn, but tonight you eat, and I'll show you where you'll sleep — assuming you can keep up." He turned on his heel and strode toward the castle without looking back, his boots crunching against the gravel. I scrambled to follow, my heart hammering with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: Sir Roland's Greeting" data-color="green"> The stable hands were already rushing forward to take Thunder's reins when a warm, booming laugh echoed across the courtyard. I turned to find a stout knight approaching with open arms, his red cloak billowing behind him like a sail. His armor gleamed in the fading sunlight, polished to a mirror shine, and his thick brown beard was neatly braided in the fashion of the western provinces. "By the old flames, you're the spitting image of your mother!" Sir Roland declared, clapping me on both shoulders with hands that felt like iron vises. "I served alongside her in the Border Campaign, did you know that? Finest archer I ever saw. Nearly took my ear off once during a misunderstanding, but that's a story for another evening." I blinked, caught off guard. "I — thank you, Sir Roland. I didn't know you knew my mother." "Knew her? Boy, I owe her my life three times over." His jovial expression softened into something more tender. He placed a guiding hand on my back and steered me toward the stables. "Come, let's get your horse settled and find you some supper. You've got a long road ahead of you, Frederick, but I have a feeling you'll walk it well. There's fire in your bloodline — I can see it in your eyes." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: Sir Roland's Greeting" data-color="blue"> I had barely swung my leg over the saddle when a blade whistled past my ear and embedded itself in the wooden post beside me. I stumbled backward, nearly tripping over my own boots, and reached instinctively for a sword I did not yet carry. "Dead," said a calm voice from the stable doorway. "If that had been an enemy's throw, you'd be bleeding out in the hay." Sir Roland stepped into the dying light. He was leaner than I had expected — wiry and sharp-featured, with close-cropped silver hair and the quiet, deliberate movements of a predator. He walked to the post and pulled the dagger free with a single smooth motion, tucking it back into his belt as though he'd done nothing more remarkable than pluck a flower. "You rode in with your guard down, your posture slack, and your eyes on the sunset instead of your surroundings," he continued, circling me slowly. "Pretty view, I'll grant you. But beauty is a distraction, and distractions kill squires." My pulse was still racing, but I forced myself to stand tall. "I'll not make that mistake again, sir." Sir Roland paused in front of me, his dark eyes searching mine. After a long moment, he nodded — just once. "See that you don't. Stable your horse, then find me in the great hall. We have much to discuss, Frederick, and very little time. Something stirs in the northern mountains, and I need you ready far sooner than I'd like." </nc-section>