Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9Z57H9NR3K3HFY0B1P4SS

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: Red — The Knight at the Stables" data-color="red"> Thunder's breath fogged the air as I guided Thunder toward the stable row. The yard smelled of hay and leather, lanterns casting warm pools of gold on weather-worn wood. From the shadow of a stall, Sir Roland stepped forward, the local knight's helm tucked under his arm and a calm, practiced grace in his movements. "Frederick, I take it," he said, voice steady with a hint of amusement. "I am Sir Roland, your guide for these first days. Welcome to the castle." He extended a gauntleted hand, and Thunder snorted, as if approving the greeting. I inclined my head, feeling the weight of the knight's stern kindness settle over me like a cloak. "We will begin with the basics—your stance, your grip, and how to read a horse," he continued, stepping closer so the horse's ears lay forward in interest. The horses around us stamped and clucked; I found my courage in the knight's presence and followed him toward the yard where the drills would start. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: Green — A Salute by Sir Roland" data-color="green"> Near the troughs of the stables, the clatter of hooves fell silent as Sir Roland approached. He wore his plate with casual ease, sun-worn leather at his waist, and the steady gaze of someone who has judged a hundred squires and found them wanting only once. "Frederick," he said, voice low and direct, "I am Sir Roland, guardian of this wing of the castle. You must be prepared to earn your keep." He paused, letting the moment stretch, then added with a half-smile, "Name, origin, and what you hope to learn here." I answered and felt the weight of the question in my chest. The knight nodded once, and with a practiced motion he patted Thunder's neck. "Your horse is a partner, not a quarry. Treat him as such, and he will carry you farther than you ever dreamed." He turned then toward the gate, but not before saying, "Meet me at dawn for your first lesson." We stepped back into the fading light, and the stableyard exhaled as if releasing a long-held breath. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: Blue — The Gatehouse Greeting" data-color="blue"> A ripple of shade parted as Sir Roland emerged from the row of stalls, armor catching the blue evening light. He paused beside Thunder and me, a measured smile crossing his features. "Frederick," he announced, tone halfway between ceremony and invitation, "I am Sir Roland, local knight and your mentor until you prove yourself worth more than a name." He offered a rough-gloved hand, then withdrew it to run a hand over Thunder's neck, reading the animal's mood as if he were reading a page. "You ride well, squires grow stiff with pride," he quipped, and the corner of his mouth curved higher. "Show me you can steady your nerves, keep your posture, and listen when the horse breathes." The stable's light glinted off his helm as he stepped closer, guiding me with a firm, friendly grip toward the path that led into the castle proper. The night cooled the air, and I found in his greeting a strange blend of challenge and kinship. </nc-section>