Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQ04F12XCJ07Y0PYAHSKMM

Here are three alternate prose sections for your story, each with a distinct tone and style: --- ### **Version 1 (Red – Dramatic, Intense)** <nc-section data-title="The Knight’s Shadow" data-color="red"> The castle loomed before me, its towers clawing at the darkening sky. Thunder’s hooves thundered against the cobblestones as I reined him in near the stables. There, beneath the flickering torchlight, stood a figure clad in blackened steel—Sir Roland, the Iron Mace of Eldermere. His gaze locked onto mine, cold and unyielding as a winter storm. The scars on his face twisted as he spoke, his voice a low growl. *"You’re late, squire. The road to knighthood is paved with blood, not dawdling."* His gauntleted hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and for a heartbeat, I wondered if he meant to draw it. I swallowed hard, dismounting with forced steadiness. *"Forgive me, sir. The journey was—"* *"Unimportant,"* he snapped. *"A knight’s worth is measured in deeds, not excuses. Prove yourself, or the crows will feast on your bones before the month is out."* </nc-section> --- ### **Version 2 (Green – Warm, Mentor-like)** <nc-section data-title="A Knight’s Welcome" data-color="green"> The stables smelled of hay and leather, a comforting scent after days on the road. As I slid from Thunder’s back, a broad-shouldered knight stepped forward, his armor polished but worn from battle. Sir Roland, the kingdom’s most seasoned warrior, offered a rare smile. *"Ah, so you’re the lad they sent,"* he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. *"Frederick, isn’t it? Don’t look so nervous—every knight starts as a squire. Even me."* He chuckled, ruffling my hair like an uncle. *"Come, let’s get your horse settled. Then we’ll talk about what it truly means to serve the realm."* His voice was rough but kind, and for the first time since leaving home, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this place wouldn’t be as harsh as the stories claimed. </nc-section> --- ### **Version 3 (Blue – Mysterious, Forboding)** <nc-section data-title="The Silent Guardian" data-color="blue"> The stables were eerily quiet, save for the distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer. I led Thunder inside, my boots sinking into the damp straw. Then I saw him—Sir Roland, standing motionless in the shadows, his face half-hidden beneath a hooded cloak. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Only watched. A shiver ran down my spine. *"S-Sir Roland?"* I stammered. At last, he stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. *"You’ve come at a dangerous time, boy. The kingdom teeters on the edge of war, and the last dragon stirs in the north."* His gloved fingers brushed the hilt of his sword. *"Are you prepared to face what comes next?"* I had no answer. </nc-section> ---