<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival - Version 1" data-color="red"> I dismounted Thunder near the stables, my legs stiff from the long journey. A burly man with a greying beard and sharp eyes approached from the shadows of the stable doors. He wore simple training leathers, but the way he carried himself spoke of decades of martial discipline. "Frederick of Millbrook?" His voice was rough but not unkind. I straightened immediately. "Yes, sir." "Sir Roland." He extended a calloused hand. "Master-at-arms. I'll be responsible for turning you from a farm boy into something resembling a squire." His grip was like iron. "Stable your horse first. A knight who neglects his mount neglects his duty. Then report to the barracks. We'll see what you're made of." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival - Version 2" data-color="green"> The stable boy took Thunder's reins as I slid from the saddle, my boots sinking into the mud. Before I could gather my belongings, a towering figure emerged from between the stalls—easily a head taller than me, with shoulders like a draft horse. "So you're the new squire," he said. A scar ran down his left cheek, disappearing into his beard. "Frederick, sir. I—" "Sir Roland." He cut me off with a wave. "Save your breath. You'll need it." He looked me over, his expression unreadable. "You're smaller than I expected. But size isn't everything." He tossed me an apple. "Feed your horse. Then find me in the yard. I want to see you swing a sword before the sun fully sets." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival - Version 3" data-color="blue"> I was unbuckling my saddlebag when I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I found an older knight watching me with keen grey eyes. His armor was polished but showed signs of recent use—scratches and dents that told stories of actual combat. "Quite a ride for a young squire," he observed, nodding toward Thunder. "You pushed hard to get here." "I was eager to begin, sir." "Eagerness is good. Discipline is better." He smiled, softening his weathered features. "I am Sir Roland. I trained your father, you know. He spoke of you often in his letters." The mention of my father caught me off guard. "He said you had your mother's heart but my temper." Roland chuckled. "We'll see if that's true soon enough. Come, let's get you settled." </nc-section>