<nc-section data-title="The Crimson Watch" data-color="red"> The weathered timber of the stables loomed ahead like the maw of a sleeping beast, silhouetted against the bruising purple of the twilight. Sir Roland stood waiting by the heavy oak door, his scarlet tabard catching the dying ember of the sun. He didn't offer a smile, his visage carved from stern stone and hardened by countless campaigns, but his grip on my shoulder was firm as he steadied me when I dismounted from Thunder. "You've arrived just in time," he rumbled, the gravel in his voice sounding like rolling boulders. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Vigilant Shield" data-color="green"> As Thunder slowed to a halt near the cobbled path, the shadows lengthened like fingers reaching for him. There, amidst the clanging of hammer on anvil from the forge, stood Sir Roland. He wiped his soot-stained brow and offered a grin that transformed his countenance from gruff to boyish in an instant. "A fresh face to break the monotony," he chuckled, gesturing grandly toward the darkening stableyard. "Let's get your beast settled, lad. I've a hearty stew waiting for us both." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Cold Steel" data-color="blue"> The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as I approached the shadowed alcove of the main stables. There, bathed in the eerie blue light of a rising moon, stood Sir Roland. He held his helm under one arm, his eyes scanning the perimeter like a hawk, and he offered only a curt nod of acknowledgment as I tethered my horse. "The nights grow long and the shadows are restless," he whispered, the chill in his gaze matching the steel he carried. </nc-section>