Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8Y6J4DFASGQ2DJEZCPQM5

Okay, here are three alternate prose sections continuing the story, following your instructions and using the specified colors. ``` <nc-section data-title="Meeting Sir Roland - Version 1 (Red)" data-color="red"> The scent of hay and horses filled the air as I dismounted Thunder, leading him towards the sprawling stables. A figure emerged from the shadows – a man built like an oak, clad in polished steel, with a face weathered by countless battles. It was Sir Roland, the local knight, his expression stern but not unkind. "So, you're Frederick," he rumbled, his voice like the grinding of stone. "The King sends a fresh-faced squire. Let's see if you have the grit to survive a week within these walls. Your first task: muck out the stables. And do it properly, boy, or you'll be answering to me again." His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, a silent warning. The grandeur of the castle seemed to vanish in that moment, replaced by the harsh reality of my new life. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Meeting Sir Roland - Version 2 (Green)" data-color="green"> As Thunder and I approached the stables, a knight stepped forward, his armor gleaming in the fading light. It was Sir Roland, known throughout the kingdom for his skill with a bow and his quiet demeanor. He offered a curt nod. "Frederick, I presume? Welcome to Castle Aeridor. The King has high hopes for you, though I suspect your training will be… rigorous." A faint smile touched his lips. "I've arranged for you to be assigned to the armory initially. A good place to learn the basics of weaponry and the importance of maintaining them. Report to Master Elmsworth at dawn. And try not to break anything." He gestured towards the stables with a gloved hand. "See to Thunder, he looks like he needs a good brushing." There was a genuine warmth in his eyes, a hint of encouragement that eased my apprehension. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Meeting Sir Roland - Version 3 (Blue)" data-color="blue"> The stables were a hive of activity, the air thick with the smell of leather and sweat. A knight, tall and imposing, observed me from the doorway. This must be Sir Roland. He moved with a quiet grace, despite his size, and his blue eyes seemed to assess me with unsettling intensity. "You are Frederick," he stated, his voice calm and measured. "The King's decision is rarely questioned, but I will observe you closely. Your potential is… uncertain." He paused, considering. "Your first lesson begins now. Observe the stable hands. Learn their methods. Understand the care of a warhorse. A knight is only as good as his mount, and a neglected horse is a liability. Show me you understand this, and perhaps you will prove worthy of further instruction." He turned and disappeared back into the castle, leaving me feeling both intimidated and strangely motivated. </nc-section> ```