Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8PPT2K03CFJGTAQDX7CFE

Here are three distinct prose sections for your story, each with a unique tone and direction while maintaining the core interaction between Frederick and Sir Roland: --- ### **Version 1 (Red) – *Tense and Forbidding*** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="red"> The castle gates loomed ahead, their iron-bound doors groaning in the wind like a warning. Thunder’s hooves kicked up dust as I reined him in, my heart pounding. Before I could dismount, a shadow fell across me. *"You’re late,"* a voice rumbled, deep and gravelly. I turned to see a towering figure clad in blackened steel, his armor etched with scars older than the kingdom itself. Sir Roland, the castle’s most feared knight, stood with arms crossed, his piercing gaze sweeping over me like a blade. I swallowed hard. *"My apologies, Sir. The road was longer than expected."* His lips curled—not quite a smile, but not a scowl either. *"Longer? Or more dangerous?"* He stepped closer, his breath carrying the scent of iron and old parchment. *"The last squire who rode this path didn’t return. You’ll learn quickly here: the mountains don’t forgive hesitation."* Thunder whinnied, sensing the tension. Sir Roland’s hand shot out, gripping my shoulder with surprising gentleness. *"Stables are that way. And Frederick?"* His voice dropped to a whisper. *"If you want to live past your first moon, you’ll stop calling yourself ‘squire.’ Here, you’re either knight or prey."* The weight of his words settled over me as he turned away, his armor clinking like a death knell. </nc-section> --- ### **Version 2 (Green) – *Warm and Mentoring*** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="green"> The golden light of dusk spilled over the castle courtyard as Thunder’s hooves crunched on the gravel. Before I could even slide from the saddle, a booming laugh echoed behind me. *"Well, look what the wind blew in!"* I spun around to see a broad-shouldered knight with a beard streaked with silver, his tabard emblazoned with a silver stag. Sir Roland grinned, clapping me on the back hard enough to nearly knock me off my feet. *"Frederick, was it? Good name for a lad with fire in his eyes."* He ruffled my hair like I was a misplaced pup, then sobered. *"You’ve got the look of a man who’s seen more than his years. Where’d you learn to ride like that?"* *"The old roads of the southern passes, Sir,"* I admitted, rubbing my neck where his hand had landed. *"My father taught me."* His expression softened. *"Then you’ve got a head start. Most squires here couldn’t find their arse with both hands and a map."* He gestured toward the stables. *"Stall your beast, then meet me in the training yard. We’ll see if that sword of yours is as sharp as your tongue."* As I dismounted, he added, *"And call me Roland. ‘Sir’ makes me sound like my father, and that man’s been dead twenty years."* For the first time since leaving home, I exhaled. </nc-section> --- ### **Version 3 (Blue) – *Mysterious and Ominous*** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="blue"> The stables reeked of hay and damp leather, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows over the stalls. I was just securing Thunder’s bridle when a voice cut through the quiet. *"You’re the new squire."* I turned. Sir Roland leaned against a post, his face half-lit by the dim light. His armor was strange—no crest, no regalia, just dark steel etched with runes I didn’t recognize. His eyes, though, were the most unsettling part: one was a piercing blue, the other a milky white, as if a storm raged behind it. *"The others won’t tell you this,"* he said, pushing off the post to step closer, *"but the castle’s not just stone and steel. It’s a living thing. Hungry."* He tapped his chest, where the runes pulsed faintly, like embers beneath ash. *"And so am I."* I stiffened. *"Sir, I—"* *"Roland,"* he corrected, voice like gravel. *"And you’ll learn soon enough. The training yard at dawn. Don’t be late."* With that, he melted into the shadows, leaving only the faint scent of ozone and old blood behind. Thunder snorted, ears pinned back. I tightened my grip on his reins, my pulse hammering. *What the hell had I just gotten myself into?* </nc-section>