<nc-section data-title="Version 1" data-color="red"> As I dismounted Thunder near the stables, a towering figure emerged from the shadows. Sir Roland stood before me, his weathered face creased with a stern expression that softened only slightly as he assessed me from head to toe. "So you're the one Lord Ashworth sent," he said, his voice like gravel. "Frederick, is it?" I bowed quickly, nearly stumbling over my own feet. "Yes, Sir Roland. I am honored to—" "Save the pleasantries, boy." He clasped my shoulder with a grip that could crush iron. "Here, you'll earn honor, not speak of it. Stable your horse and report to the armory. Your training begins at dawn." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2" data-color="green"> The stable master took Thunder's reins as I slid from the saddle, my legs aching from the long journey. I was brushing the dust from my cloak when a hearty laugh rang out across the courtyard. "By the old gods, they're sending them younger every year!" I turned to find Sir Roland striding toward me, his silver-streaked beard doing nothing to diminish the vitality in his step. Unlike the grim warrior I had imagined, his eyes sparkled with warmth. "Welcome, young Frederick!" He clasped my hand firmly. "Your father and I fought together at the Siege of Thornwall. He saved my life twice—though he'd say it was three times if he'd had more ale in him." He grinned. "I intend to repay that debt by making you the finest knight this realm has ever seen." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3" data-color="blue"> I had barely led Thunder into the stable when I noticed I was not alone. A knight sat quietly on a hay bale in the corner, polishing a blade that gleamed even in the dim light. He did not look up as he spoke. "You ride well. But you grip the reins too tightly. A horse senses fear." I swallowed hard. "Sir Roland?" He finally raised his gaze to meet mine, and I saw something ancient and knowing in those pale grey eyes—the look of a man who had seen too many battles, buried too many friends. "The last three squires assigned to me are dead, Frederick." He sheathed his sword and stood. "I don't say this to frighten you. I say it because if you're to survive what's coming, you need to understand—this castle doesn't train knights. It forges dragon slayers." </nc-section>