Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFK3PXM53GN8NYXYFXZYGC

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Greeting" data-color="red"> Sir Roland, a weathered knight with a scarred cheek, emerged from the stables with a bucket of water. His armor gleamed in the fading sunlight, though his surcoat bore the faded colors of a hundred battles. "Ho there, young one!" he called out, his voice like gravel. "You must be the new squire they've been expecting. Your horse looks exhausted—have you ridden all the way from the village?" I dismounted, my legs stiff from the long journey. "Yes, Sir. I arrived just as the sun began to set." Roland chuckled, setting down the bucket. "Eager, I see. The last squire who arrived at dusk spent the first week sleeping through his training. Name's Roland. I'll be showing you the ropes around here." He extended a calloused hand. "Welcome to Thornhaven Castle, Frederick." I shook his hand firmly, feeling the strength in his grip. "Thank you, Sir Roland. I'm ready to learn." He nodded approvingly. "Good. A knight needs more than just a sword—he needs patience, honor, and a horse that doesn't spook at shadows." He glanced at Thunder with an appraising eye. "Yours looks promising. Come, let's get you settled before the cook runs out of supper." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Stable Master" data-color="green"> As I led Thunder toward the stables, the smell of hay and oats filled my nostrils. Lanterns flickered in the evening breeze, casting dancing shadows against the stone walls. A broad-shouldered man in a leather apron approached, wiping his hands on a cloth. His gray hair was tied back in a ponytail, and his eyes held the wisdom of someone who had spent a lifetime with horses. "You must be the new squire," he said, his voice warm like a summer breeze. "I'm Sir Roland—the stable master, though most just call me Rolly. Everyone does, much to my displeasure." I couldn't help but smile at his gruff humor. "Frederick, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." He took Thunder's reins from my hands. "Ah, a fine animal you have here. I'll tend to him personally—he deserves rest after carrying you all this way." He paused, studying my face. "You look like your father, you know. He was a good man. A good rider, too." "You knew my father?" Roland's eyes grew distant for a moment. "Knew him? I trained him, son. He was one of my first students." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Your blood carries honor, Frederick. Don't make me regret remembering it." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: Shadows and Whispers" data-color="blue"> The stables were eerily quiet as I led Thunder through the arched entrance. Moonlight streamed through the gaps in the wooden beams, illuminating dust motes that danced in the stillness. Then I heard it—a voice, low and commanding, echoing from somewhere within the shadows. "You're late, boy." I turned sharply, my hand instinctively moving toward the dagger at my belt. From behind a pillar emerged a tall figure in dark armor. His face was half-hidden beneath a hood, but I could see the glint of cold eyes. "Sir Roland?" I ventured, remembering the name the gatekeeper had mentioned. He stepped forward, and the moonlight caught the silver emblem on his chest—a dragon coiled around a sword. "Your reputation precedes you, Frederick. They say you have the sight—that you can see things others cannot." I swallowed hard. "I... I don't know what you mean." Roland's thin lips curved into something less than a smile. "Perhaps you will, in time. The castle has been... restless lately. Strange sounds in the night. Whispers from the eastern tower." He extended his hand. "Welcome to Thornhaven. I hope you're braver than you look." </nc-section>