<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> I pulled hard on the reins, bringing Thunder to a sliding halt just before the stables, the dust kicking up around us. Before I could even dismount, a heavy armored boot stepped into my path. Sir Roland loomed over me, his face obscured by the visor of his helm, his posture rigid and unyielding. He didn't offer a hand to help me down; he merely crossed his arms, the metal gauntlets clanking softly in the evening air. "You ride with too much speed for a boy who knows nothing of the ground beneath him," Roland's voice boomed, rough like grinding stones. "If you plan to be a squire under my command, Frederick, leave your recklessness in the mud. The stables are that way. See to your beast before you see to yourself." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Warm Mentor" data-color="green"> As I slowed Thunder to a trot near the wooden fences, the smell of fresh hay and sweet oats filled the air. A man in a leather tunic, wiping grease from his hands with a rag, looked up and smiled. It was Sir Roland, his armor set aside for the evening chores. He didn't look like the terrifying warriors from the stories; he looked like a man who loved his home. "Easy now, lad, easy," Roland said softly, approaching Thunder with an outstretched palm. The horse nuzzled against him instantly. "You must be Frederick. I saw you tearing across the fields—you have a good seat, but save your energy for the training yard. Come, let's get Thunder rubbed down. A knight cares for his mount as he cares for his own blood." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Watchful Shadow" data-color="blue"> The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time I reached the stables, casting the courtyard in long, bruising shades of indigo. I slid from the saddle, my legs stiff from the ride, and felt a pair of eyes upon me. Sir Roland was leaning against the stable door, half-concealed in shadow, his eyes reflecting the dying light of the torches. He said nothing at first, simply watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "You made it before the moon rose," Roland noted quietly, his voice carrying a strange weight. "That is good. The darkness comes earlier these days, and a squire must learn to find his way when the light fails. Tend to your horse, Frederick, but keep your wits about you. Not everything in this castle sleeps at night." </nc-section>