Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9SZ74A6GPZX5QJ6Q9AP9B

Here are three distinct prose sections to continue the story, each with a different tone and style: --- ### **Version 1 (Red – Gritty & Foreshadowing)** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="red"> The iron-shod hooves of Thunder crunched over the gravel as I reined him to a halt before the castle’s stables. The air smelled of damp hay and sweat, the scent of a place where men and beasts labored until their bones ached. Before I could dismount, a voice cut through the twilight like a blade. *"So this is the prodigy they sent us?"* A towering figure emerged from the shadows, his armor blackened with old bloodstains, his face half-hidden beneath a visor. Sir Roland, I assumed—though the name suited him better than the man himself. His gauntleted hand rested on the hilt of his sword, not in threat, but in idle warning. *"You’re late,"* he said, his voice rough as gravel. *"And your horse looks like it’s been through a war."* I swallowed hard. *"He has, sir. Sort of."* Sir Roland’s eyes narrowed. *"Then you’d best tell me about it before the captain does. And make it quick—I’ve got a patrol to lead before dawn."* The weight of his gaze pressed down on me like a storm front. I dismounted, my legs unsteady, and realized with a sinking feeling that this was no welcome. This was a test. </nc-section> --- ### **Version 2 (Green – Hopeful & Mentorship)** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="green"> Thunder’s breath came in steady puffs as I guided him toward the stables, the warm glow of lanterns spilling from the open doors. Before I could even slide off his back, a deep voice called out, cheerful and warm. *"Ah! You must be Frederick! The new squire!"* A broad-shouldered knight with a beard streaked with silver stepped forward, his armor polished to a mirror shine. Sir Roland grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners like a man who had seen too much joy to ever lose hope. *"Took you long enough to get here!"* he said, clapping me on the shoulder. *"I was starting to think you’d gotten lost—or worse, decided to turn back!"* I laughed, some of the tension in my chest easing. *"No chance of that, sir. I’ve been dreaming of this place since I was a boy."* Sir Roland’s grin softened. *"Then you’re in the right place, lad."* He ruffled my hair—just a little too hard—and gestured toward the stables. *"Come on. Let’s get you settled. You’ll want to meet the others before the evening meal. And trust me—you’ll want to eat before you meet Master Hargrove. That old cook’s got a temper worse than a dragon’s."* As we walked, Sir Roland fell into step beside me, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. *"Now, tell me true—are you ready for this, or did they send you here to get you out of the way?"* </nc-section> --- ### **Version 3 (Blue – Mysterious & Atmospheric)** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="blue"> The castle loomed like a sleeping giant, its towers piercing the twilight sky. Thunder’s hooves echoed hollowly against the cobblestones as I approached the stables, where the flickering light of a single lantern cast long, dancing shadows. A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the firelight—tall, still, and watching. *"You’re early,"* the knight said, his voice low and measured. *"Or perhaps just lost."* Sir Roland stepped forward, his armor dark as the coming night. Unlike the other knights I’d seen in my travels, his was unadorned, save for a single silver emblem—a coiled dragon—engraved upon his pauldron. The symbol sent a chill down my spine. *"Frederick of Black Hollow,"* I said, dismounting with deliberate calm. *"Sent by Lord Aldric to train under the castle’s banner."* Sir Roland studied me for a long moment, his gaze sharp as a blade’s edge. Then, with a slow nod, he gestured toward the stables. *"Then you’d best come inside. The others will be wondering where you’ve gotten to."* His voice held no warmth, but neither was there malice. Only… something else. A quiet intensity, like the eye of a storm. As I followed him into the dimly lit stable, the air thick with the scent of leather and old wood, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this place—and this knight—held secrets far deeper than a squire’s training. </nc-section>