Run: 2026-02-18-01KHQ91YM1WX4ACEHXHW9AS1YK

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: Sir Roland's Greeting" data-color="red"> As I dismounted Thunder near the stables, a gruff voice called out from the shadows. "You must be the new squire." Sir Roland stepped forward, his armor catching the last rays of the dying sun. He was a broad-shouldered man with a scar that ran from his left eye to his jaw, a testament to countless battles fought and won. His eyes, however, held a warmth that his stern expression tried hard to conceal. "I am Sir Roland," he said, extending a gauntleted hand. "I have trained many squires in my time, boy. Most of them failed. I trust you will not disappoint me." He turned sharply on his heel and gestured for me to follow, leaving me scrambling to tie Thunder's reins to the stable post. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: Sir Roland's Greeting" data-color="green"> The smell of hay and horses filled my nostrils as I led Thunder toward the stables. A knight was already there, brushing down a magnificent grey destrier with long, careful strokes. He turned as he heard my approach, and a wide smile broke across his weathered face. "Ah, Frederick! We have been expecting you." Sir Roland was not what I had imagined a knight to be — he was lean and graceful, with kind eyes and silver threading through his dark beard. "Come," he said warmly, taking Thunder's reins from my tired hands. "Let us get your horse settled, and then I shall show you to your quarters. Tomorrow, your training begins in earnest. Tonight, you shall rest and eat well." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: Sir Roland's Greeting" data-color="blue"> I had barely tethered Thunder to the post when I heard the crunch of heavy boots on gravel behind me. I spun around to find Sir Roland standing just inches away, his arms folded across his chest plate, studying me with an unreadable expression. He was older than I expected, perhaps fifty winters, with a white beard cropped close and eyes the color of a stormy sea. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the distant whinny of horses and the rustle of the evening wind. Then, slowly, Sir Roland leaned forward and whispered, "Tell me, boy — have you ever seen a dragon?" My breath caught in my throat. It was not the greeting I had anticipated, and something in his tone told me that my answer would change everything. </nc-section>