Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9N6W518DREGNNX6AKKE90

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: Near the Stables" data-color="red"> Frederick dismounted and led Thunder toward the stable row, letting him sniff at the halter's leather before I looped it around a post. The air was thick with hay and warm horsehide, a simple scent that steadied my racing heartbeat. From the shadow of the nearest stall, Sir Roland stepped into the glow of the lanterns, metal creaking softly as he drew near. "Frederick," he said, a respectful nod tipping his head. "I am Sir Roland, master of these grounds. Welcome to the training." His gaze weighed me as if he were appraising a newly forged blade, careful and patient. I answered with a wary smile and a straight back, meeting his eyes with the promise of a willing pupil. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Greeting" data-color="green"> The last light spilled over the stable yard as I tightened Thunder's saddle and brushed a stray straw from his flank. The whole place smelled of straw and sun-warmed leather, a sanctuary after the ride. Sir Roland strode out from between the stalls, his armor catching a pink flare from the dusk and his helm tucked under one arm. "You must be Frederick," he said, voice rough as rope but steady. "The squire's life is no mercy, only duties." He offered a firm hand, and I took it, feeling the strength in his grip. "Come," he added, "we've much to begin." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: A Brief Exchange" data-color="blue"> Sir Roland met me at the stable entrance, a silhouette carved from steel and weathered courage. "Frederick," he began, voice even, "you ride with the heart of a knight, or you do not ride at all." I checked Thunder's reins and met his gaze, replying, "I am ready, sir." He studied me for a breath longer, then nodded. "Then follow me to the training yard," he said, turning toward the castle with measured steps, and I walked beside him, the weight of the long road ahead settling on my shoulders. </nc-section>