Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9E844BV4BX9307B3YX02Y

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: Red - The Knight at the Stables" data-color="red"> The last light of day glinted off Thunder's saddle as Frederick stood by the stall, brushing a speck of dust from Thunder's flank. From the shadows near the tack room, Sir Roland stepped into the glow, armor glittering faintly and a calm, measuring gaze upon the young squire. "Frederick," he said, voice steady as steel, "I am Sir Roland, the local knight. Welcome to your first day." He closed the distance to the stable door, eyes briefly taking in the horse and then the rider. "Show me you can read a horse's temper as well as a page's lines." Frederick bowed, heart pounding but steadying with resolve. "I will, sir." The greeting felt like a gate opening to a path he hoped to walk well, and Sir Roland's presence suggested the road would be exacting but true. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: Green - A Warm Greeting by the Stables" data-color="green"> Thunder snorted softly as Frederick brushed at a stubborn tuft of hay from Thunder's neck. A shadow moved from the doorway of the tack room and Sir Roland emerged, taller than most men, with a gentleness that belied his weathered appearance. He stepped up beside the stall, the scent of leather and straw curling in the evening air. "Frederick," the knight greeted, a rare smile softening the lines around his eyes. "I am Sir Roland, the local knight. Welcome to the castle’s training. How goes your first rite—tending to your horse?" Frederick straightened, a thrill of pride warming him. "I will prove myself, Sir Roland." The two shared a brief nod, and the day began anew with the promise of lessons and partnership forged in shared duty. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: Blue - A Stark Greeting by the Stables" data-color="blue"> Dusk lay over the stable yard, and Frederick felt the weight of his new role settle on his shoulders as Thunder stood quiet in the stall. Sir Roland appeared at the edge of the yard, boots dusted with earth, eyes cool and assessing. He halted a few strides away from Frederick and the horse, not hostile, merely exacting. "Frederick," he began, voice even, "you stand on the threshold of your training. I am Sir Roland, the local knight." He glanced toward Thunder, then back to the squire. "This is your first test: can you earn the trust of your horse and your master here?" Frederick drew a steady breath. "I can, Sir Roland." The greeting closed, and the day of discipline and learning began in earnest, the stable’s quiet fading into the rhythm of hoofbeats and duty. </nc-section>