Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK15X64CQGABDQVPS55G00E

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> A figure emerged from the shadows of the stable archway, his armor gleaming dully in the twilight. It was Sir Roland, the castle's foremost knight, known as much for his unyielding discipline as for his prowess with a lance. He did not smile as Frederick dismounted; instead, his eyes scanned the young squire from mud-spattered boots to his nervous grip on the reins. "You are late, boy," Roland grunted, his voice like grinding stones. "And Thunder looks half-starved. If you treat your mount with such neglect, how do you expect to survive the battlefield? Unstable him, curry him until your arms burn, and then report to the armory. Your training begins now, and I assure you, it will not be gentle." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Warm Mentor" data-color="green"> Before Frederick could even tie Thunder to the post, a broad hand clapped him on the shoulder. Sir Roland stood there, a easy grin spreading beneath his trimmed beard, the tension of the day seemingly melting away in his presence. "Well met, young Frederick!" the knight boomed, his voice echoing cheerfully off the stone walls. "I heard you rode hard from the valley. Thunder is a fine beast; you've done well to bring him in so spiritedly. Come, let us get him settled with fresh oats and water. There is time enough for drills and duties tomorrow. Tonight, you wash the road from your face and join me for supper. A full belly and a rested mind are the first weapons of a true knight." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Cryptic Observer" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland was already waiting by the water trough, his silhouette stark against the dying light. He said nothing as Frederick approached, merely watching the young squire with an intensity that felt heavier than any chainmail. When Frederick finally spoke, offering a hesitant greeting, Roland raised a single gloved hand to silence him. "The wind carries many whispers today, Frederick," the knight said softly, his gaze drifting past the boy to the darkening treeline beyond the walls. "You have arrived exactly when you were meant to, neither sooner nor later. Stable your horse with care, for the night will be long, and the dreams you sleep through may be more dangerous than any sword you will face at dawn." </nc-section>