Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5QD8AYWPPV0R6VXRWXXSE

Here are three alternate versions continuing the story: <nc-section data-title="A Rough Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted Thunder, a shadow fell across the stableyard. Sir Roland emerged from the dusk, his armor gleaming even in fading light. "You're late, boy," he growled, spitting into the straw. "Drag your carcass to the barracks - training begins at dawn, and I'll not coddle you like your soft noble kin." His gauntleted hand shoved a rusted practice sword into my chest so hard I stumbled backward into Thunder's flank. The stallion snorted in alarm as Sir Roland turned away, his cloak snapping like a whip in the evening wind. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="A Knight's Greeting" data-color="green"> Thunder's hooves clattered to a stop as a broad-shouldered figure stepped from the stables. Sir Roland's beard split into a white smile beneath his helm. "Well met, young Frederick!" he boomed, catching Thunder's reins with practiced ease. "Your father wrote of your coming." His eyes twinkled as he clapped my shoulder. "Come, stable your fine beast - the cook's kept supper warm, and we've much to discuss of your training." The knight's warmth melted the journey's stiffness from my bones as he led me toward the torchlit courtyard, already speaking of sword stances and heraldry. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="An Ominous Meeting" data-color="blue"> The castle loomed darker as I approached, its shadows stretching like claws across the yard. Thunder shied when Sir Roland materialized silently between the stable posts, his polished armor reflecting no light. "Frederick of House Veldrane," he murmured, voice colder than the evening mist. "We've been... expecting you." His gaze lingered too long on Thunder's fine tack before snapping up to mine. "The Master-at-Arms will collect you at midnight. Be ready." With that, he melted back into the gloom, leaving only the scent of iron and something faintly rotten hanging in the air behind him. </nc-section>