Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY96CGC66DS99KTJJY6RCG5

Here are three distinct versions of the scene, each with its own tone and flavor: --- <nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Weight of Expectations" data-color="red"> The iron gates of Castle Veldrin groaned as Thunder’s hooves struck the cobblestones. Before I could even dismount, a towering figure emerged from the shadows of the stables, his armor polished to a deep crimson hue. Sir Roland, his face lined with years of battle, stood with arms crossed, his dark eyes assessing me with the cold precision of a blade being sharpened. *"You’re late,"* he rumbled, his voice like gravel underfoot. *"The king’s patience is not infinite, squire."* I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around Thunder’s reins. *"I rode as fast as I could, my lord. The roads were treacherous."* Roland’s lip curled, but there was no humor in it. *"Treacherous or not, you’re here now."* He gestured toward the castle’s training grounds, where the scent of sweat and iron hung thick in the air. *"First lesson: a knight’s worth is measured in more than speed. It’s measured in endurance."* His gaze flicked to my trembling hands. *"And in nerve."* I nodded, but the weight of his words settled in my chest like a stone. </nc-section> --- <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Unexpected Ally" data-color="green"> Thunder’s hooves barely touched the ground as I reined him to a halt before the stables. The air smelled of hay and damp stone, but it was the figure stepping into the torchlight that made my breath catch. Sir Roland—no, *Brother Roland*, as the monks at the abbey had called him—wasn’t the stern warrior I’d imagined. His armor was dented in places, his once-bright surcoat now faded with travel stains, and his hands, usually sheathed in gauntlets, were bare, cradling a worn wooden staff. *"You’re Frederick,"* he said, not as a command, but as a statement. His voice was rough, but his eyes held a warmth I hadn’t expected. *"Heard you were coming. Thought I’d meet you before the court does."* I blinked. *"You... know who I am?"* *"Of course."* He chuckled, low and warm. *"The king’s own squire, sent to learn the old ways. Though I’m not sure why he’d send a boy like you to a place like this."* He gestured toward the castle, where the flickering lights of the courtyard hinted at a gathering. *"But here you are. And if you’re smart, you’ll listen to more than just the king’s orders."* Before I could respond, he clapped a calloused hand onto my shoulder. *"Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll sleep—and where you’ll start."* His grip was firm, almost fatherly, as he led me toward the training yard, where the distant clang of swords echoed through the night. </nc-section> --- <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Shadow of the Past" data-color="blue"> The stables were empty when I dismounted, but the moment Thunder’s hooves hit the stone, a figure stepped from the darkness. Sir Roland stood like a sentinel, his armor black as midnight, his face half-hidden beneath the brim of his helm. The torchlight flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to twist around him, as if the very air resisted his presence. *"You’re late,"* he said, his voice a low rumble, like distant thunder. It wasn’t a question. I stiffened. *"I rode as fast as I could, my lord."* A muscle twitched in his jaw. *"Speed won’t save you here."* He gestured toward the castle, where the banners of the kingdom snapped in the wind—banners that had once been his. *"The king wants you trained. But training isn’t just about blades and armor."* His gaze locked onto mine, piercing. *"It’s about remembering."* I swallowed. *"Remembering what?"* For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still. Then, slowly, he lifted his helm, revealing a face scarred by old wounds—some physical, others deeper. *"That some lessons aren’t taught in a day."* The torchlight caught the glint of something in his hand—a small, tarnished dragon scale, tucked into his belt. My breath caught. *The Last Dragon.* The rumors were true. He’d seen it. Or worse—he’d failed it. Roland’s lips curled into something between a smile and a grimace. *"Now. Are you ready to learn?"* </nc-section>