Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFS7YXJ29JD6BVE3EZX8A3

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> Sir Roland's voice boomed across the stable yard, cutting through the evening air like a blade. "You there! New squire!" He strode towards Frederick with deliberate, measured steps, his armor gleaming dully in the fading light. His weathered face bore the scars of countless battles, and his eyes—steel gray and unyielding—fixed upon the young newcomer with unmasked skepticism. "I am Sir Roland, protector of these stables and trainer of those who would call themselves knights. You have arrived late, boy. The evening feed has already been distributed, the horses properly attended to." He crossed his massive arms over his broad chest. "A knight who cannot care for his steed is no knight at all. We shall see if you are worthy of that title you so eagerly pursue." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Warm Greeting" data-color="green"> A gentle hand clapped Frederick on the shoulder, and he turned to find a smiling knight whose eyes crinkled with genuine kindness. "You must be Frederick! Welcome, welcome!" Sir Roland's voice was rich with warmth, his broad smile contrasting sharply with the formidable armor he wore. He gestured towards the stables, where the sweet smell of hay and oats filled the air. "Come, let me show you to your quarters. The journey here must have been exhausting." He clapped Frederick on the back amiably. "Don't worry, son. Every great knight once rode through those gates just as you have tonight. The path ahead is challenging, but with dedication and heart, you shall find your way. Now, have you eaten? The cook makes a stew that could revive the dead—though I wouldn't recommend testing that theory!" </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Enigmatic Encounter" data-color="blue"> Frederick felt a chill run down his spine as the knight emerged from the shadows between two stalls. Sir Roland was tall and gaunt, his armor black as midnight, etched with strange symbols that seemed to writhe in the dim light. He said nothing at first, merely regarded the young squire with an expression of profound contemplation. The silence stretched uncomfortably long. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have come to the castle seeking glory, young Frederick. But I wonder... do you truly understand what you seek?" He tilted his head, studying the boy with unsettling intensity. "The dragons are returning, boy. The last of their kind stirs in the eastern mountains. And somehow, I suspect your arrival is no mere coincidence." He stepped aside, revealing the stable door. "Come. We have much to discuss." </nc-section>