<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Scarlet Knight" data-color="red"> Sir Roland stood by the stables with an imposing presence, his armor gleaming crimson in the dying light. His eyes burned with intensity as he inspected Frederick from head to toe. "You're late, boy," he growled, stepping forward with a hand on his sword hilt. The stables smelled of hay and leather, and Frederick felt his heart pound against his ribs as the knight's scarlet surcoat flapped in the wind. Roland's reputation as a harsh taskmaster preceded him, and the redness of the setting sun seemed to bleed across his weathered features. "The dragon doesn't wait for those who dawdle. Neither do I." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Verdant Welcome" data-color="green"> Sir Roland emerged from the stable shadows with a gentle smile, his green cloak draped over one shoulder like fresh spring leaves. He extended a calloused hand to Frederick, his grip firm but kind. "Welcome to Oakhaven, young squire," he said, gesturing to the verdant training grounds beyond the stalls. The stable smelled of fresh hay and wild herbs hung from the rafters to dry. Roland's eyes held the color of forest moss as he looked at Thunder approvingly. "A fine steed for a fine beginning. Come, let me show you where you'll put down roots and grow strong." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Azure Order" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland awaited near the stable doors, his azure tabard bearing the silver dragon of the realm. He stood rigid as a statue, his expression unreadable beneath his gray-streaked beard. "Frederick of Thornwick," he intoned formally, his voice deep and resonant as temple bells. The blue hour was settling over the castle, and lanterns began flickering along the stable walls, casting cobalt shadows. Roland studied the young squire with eyes the color of winter steel. "Your training with the Order begins at dawn. We serve the last dragon with unwavering loyalty. Do not disappoint the ancient bond." </nc-section>