Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKASZHBF7SAMCANB4RD15HX

<nc-section data-title="Version 1" data-color="red"> I reined Thunder in at the stables, the scent of hay and oiled leather wrapping around me like a familiar cloak. Lanterns kindled along the eaves, thin flames licking the dusk. A man in battered mail stepped from the shadow of a stall, helm tucked under one arm, brown hair shot through with iron. He moved with the easy balance of someone who’d lived half his life in the saddle. “Frederick, is it?” he said, offering his forearm. “I’m Sir Roland. Welcome.” His grip was firm, warm. There were laugh lines at the corners of his eyes that didn’t quite hide the scars. “Thunder’s a fine beast,” he added, reaching to scratch my stallion between the ears. Thunder huffed and pressed his massive head into the knight’s palm as if they were old friends. “A horse that listens is worth three that run.” I managed a nod, breath still catching from the ride. “I’m honored, sir.” “Good,” Sir Roland said. “Then show me you can see to him before you see to yourself.” He stepped aside for me to lead Thunder forward. Stablehands hovered, but Roland stayed them with a raised hand. “Your training begins at dawn,” he went on, voice gentling. “Steel and saddle both. But tonight you learn the first lesson: a knight’s first oath is to what trusts him.” He smiled, brief and real. “Welcome to the castle, Frederick. Let’s make you at home.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2" data-color="green"> The stables were loud with stamping hooves and clinking tack, and I’d barely swung down when a broad-shouldered knight stepped into my path. His tabard was clean enough, but his knuckles were a road map of old fights. He looked me up and down like a smith judging flawed iron. “So. You’re Frederick,” he said. “Sir Roland. You’ll call me ‘sir’ until you earn the right to call me anything else.” “Yes, sir,” I said, reaching for Thunder’s bridle. “Good start.” His eyes flicked to my hands. “Unsaddle him.” A stableboy darted forward, and Sir Roland’s voice snapped like a whip. “Let the lad fail or learn. Off with you.” Heat climbed my neck as I fumbled with the cinch. Thunder shifted, impatient, and I forced my breath slow, working leather through buckle until the girth came free. Sir Roland watched without a word until I’d laid the saddle over the stall door. “Calluses,” he said, taking my hand, turning it. “Some work in you. Not enough.” He tossed something at me. I caught it by instinct—wood, weighty and scarred: a practice sword. The impact stung my palm. “We meet the yard before the sun,” he said. “You’ll sweat until you leak courage. For now—brush that beast till he shines. He carries you. Earn the right to be carried.” His mouth quirked, almost a smile. “Welcome to the stables, Frederick. Try not to embarrass the hay.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3" data-color="blue"> Dusk pooled cool and blue along the stable eaves, and someone had carved tiny dragons along the lintels—worn by years of hands and weather. Thunder tossed his head at a raven perched on the fence; it croaked once and flew, a scrap of shadow against the last light. A knight stepped from the aisle between stalls, cloak stirring the straw-dusted air. His eyes were the gray of old steel, and when he smiled it was like embers under ash. “Frederick,” he said, as though he’d been expecting the syllables. “I am Sir Roland. Welcome.” He laid a palm on Thunder’s nose and murmured a few words in a tongue I didn’t know. My stallion stilled, breath easing. The lantern near us guttered and then steadied, as if in answer. “You have a way with him,” I said, surprised at the hush in my voice. “It is a very old way,” he replied. “Older than these walls.” He glanced past me to the castle stones. “They listen, sometimes, when new footsteps cross them.” “You make it sound like they care.” “They care what comes,” he said. “And who.” A cool breeze lifted the hair at my neck. He nodded toward an empty stall. “Settle your horse. Tonight, eat and sleep. At dawn, we begin with breath before blade. If you’re to last here, you’ll learn to hear what others miss.” He held my gaze a heartbeat longer than comfort. “Welcome to the stables, Frederick. The road ahead is longer than it looks.” </nc-section>