Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKATCYMNK20TAV0REK22BD4

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: Near the Stables" data-color="red"> Thunder's breath steamed in the evening air as I guided him toward the row of stalls. Sir Roland stepped from the shadow of the doorway, plate catching the last light, helm tucked under his arm. "Frederick," he said, voice even as a shield, "welcome to the castle." I paused, and Thunder snorted softly. The knight studied me a moment, then extended a gloved hand. "I am Sir Roland, your local mentor. We'll begin where the horses live: near the stables." He nodded to a stable boy. "Unaddle, brush him down, and bring him to the rack." After I finished the chores, Roland's gaze softened just a fraction. "Your first lesson will be posture and breath—steady, not swept away by wind or pride." He spoke of drills tomorrow and the honor of serving the kingdom. I nodded, feeling the weight of the road melt into purpose as the last light faded behind the battlements. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: Near the Stables" data-color="green"> The sun had slipped low as I tethered Thunder to the wooden rail, when Sir Roland strode forward from the lantern-lit doorway. His armor sang softly with each step, and his eyes, keen as a hawk's, assessed my grip on the reins. "Frederick, is it?" he asked, offering a half-smile that put nerves at ease. "Welcome to the keep." He inspected Thunder with a practiced touch, then drew near. "We talk in the stables," he said, gesturing to the line of stalls. "Your first duty is to care for your mount—brush, saddle, feed—then we’ll talk what comes next. I like a student who respects a horse." I did as told, and the moment of camaraderie warmed the evening air. Roland's voice softened further as he added, "Good start; now show me you can listen as well as ride." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: Near the Stables" data-color="blue"> The last light hung on the battlements when Sir Roland stepped from the shadows near the stables, armor creaking softly with his measured stride. "Frederick," he said, voice even, "you've made the climb from squire to trainee faster than most." He studied Thunder's easy stance, then met my gaze with a piercing look. "The road ahead is not paved with praise. Here, near the stables, we keep our promises—on time, with discipline." He signaled to the distant blacksmith's hammering anvil. "Your first task is simple: see to your horse, then meet me at dawn for drills. If you falter, you’ll hear about it." There was no anger in his tone, only the weight of expectation—and a quiet warning that the Chronicles of the Last Dragon would demand more than courage alone. </nc-section>