Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8QZJ0NMA04JN4KNTJJHM2

Here are three distinct prose sections for your story, each with a different tone and style: --- ### **Version 1 (Red) – Gritty & Tense** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="red"> The castle gates loomed ahead, their iron-bound oaks groaning under the weight of centuries. Thunder’s hooves kicked up dust as I reined him in, my fingers tightening around the reins. The stables stood dark and silent, the scent of hay and sweat thick in the air. A shadow moved near the entrance—a man in polished armor, his tabard bearing the sigil of a silver sword crossed over a black raven. Sir Roland. His gaze was sharp, assessing, as he stepped into the fading light. “Frederick of Black Hollow,” he said, voice low, rough as gravel. “You’re late.” I swallowed hard. “The road was worse than expected, my lord.” He didn’t smile. “And yet, you’re here.” His eyes flicked to Thunder, then back to me. “The king’s squire. Or so they say.” A pause. “Prove it.” Before I could answer, he turned and strode toward the stables, expecting me to follow. The weight of his words hung in the air—*prove it*—like a challenge. Or a warning. </nc-section> --- ### **Version 2 (Green) – Hopeful & Adventurous** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="green"> The castle gates yawned open before me, bathed in golden twilight. Thunder snorted, tossing his head as if sensing the excitement in the air. I grinned, straightening my tunic—my first real step toward becoming a knight. A deep voice cut through the evening quiet. “Well, well. If it isn’t the new squire.” I turned to see a broad-shouldered knight leaning against a stable post, his armor gleaming faintly in the sunset. Sir Roland’s smile was warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Frederick, was it? Thought you’d never arrive.” Relief flooded me. “Sir Roland! I—” He chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder. “No need for formalities yet. Call me Roland.” His gaze flicked to Thunder. “And that’s a fine beast. Where’d you get him?” I beamed. “He was a gift from my father. Says he’s got the heart of a dragon.” Roland’s laughter boomed across the courtyard. “Then we’ll see about that, won’t we?” He gestured toward the stables. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you settled before the feast.” </nc-section> --- ### **Version 3 (Blue) – Mysterious & Atmospheric** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="blue"> The castle stood like a sentinel against the twilight, its towers piercing the bruised sky. Thunder’s breath steamed in the cool air as I dismounted, my boots crunching on gravel. The stables were empty—too empty. The silence was heavy, as if the very stones held their breath. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows. Sir Roland. His armor was blackened at the edges, as if scorched by unseen fires. His face was a map of old battles, but his eyes—sharp, knowing—studied me with something like curiosity. “Frederick,” he said, voice like wind through dead leaves. “You’ve come a long way.” I nodded, suddenly aware of how little I knew about this place. “I have, sir.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “The king’s squire. A rare honor.” A pause. “Or a rare burden.” His gaze flicked toward the castle’s highest tower, where a single torch flickered. “They’ll test you here. And you’ll fail. At least once.” I shivered, but not from the cold. “Then I’ll try again.” Roland’s lips quirked. “Smart boy.” He turned toward the stables, beckoning me to follow. “Come. The night is young, and there’s much to learn.” </nc-section>