<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Stern Greeting" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stables, a towering figure emerged from the shadows. Sir Roland, the castle's master-at-arms, stood before me with arms crossed over his barrel chest. His scarred face bore no trace of warmth. "You're late, boy," he growled, his voice like grinding stone. "I expected you at midday. The sun kisses the horizon now, and you think to waltz in here as if time means nothing?" He circled Thunder, inspecting my horse with a critical eye. "At least your mount shows proper care. Perhaps there's hope for you yet, though I doubt it. Stable your horse, then report to the barracks. You'll sleep with the other squires—if they haven't taken all the decent bunks already." Without waiting for my response, Sir Roland turned on his heel and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him like a storm cloud. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Warm Welcome" data-color="green"> "Ho there, young squire!" called a cheerful voice as I guided Thunder toward the stables. A knight with kind eyes and laugh lines approached, his armor polished to a mirror shine. Sir Roland extended his hand in greeting, his smile genuine and disarming. "You must be Frederick! We've been expecting you. That's a fine horse you have there—Thunder, if the records are correct?" He patted my stallion's neck with practiced ease. "I'm Sir Roland, and I'll be overseeing much of your training. Welcome to Drakenhold Castle, lad. I know the journey must have been long and arduous." He gestured toward the stable doors. "Come, let's get Thunder settled with fresh hay and water. Then I'll show you to your quarters and introduce you to your fellow squires. They're a good lot—you'll find fast friends here, I'm certain of it." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Mysterious Encounter" data-color="blue"> The stable yard was empty save for a single figure leaning against the wooden fence. Sir Roland watched me approach with an unreadable expression, his gray eyes seeming to look through me rather than at me. He was younger than I'd imagined, perhaps only thirty winters, yet something ancient lingered in his gaze. "Frederick," he said simply, as if my name were both question and answer. He pushed off from the fence and moved toward me with the fluid grace of a predator. "Your arrival was foretold three days ago. The dragon dreams have returned to this castle." I froze, uncertain how to respond. Sir Roland took Thunder's reins from my hands. "There are things you must learn quickly, boy. Things not written in the training scrolls. The world is changing, and you..." He paused, studying my face intently. "You may be more important than either of us knows. Come. We have much to discuss, and the walls have ears." </nc-section>