Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAATZ1MDZRE199FMT6QA46

Here are three distinct versions of the next section, each with a unique tone and style: --- <nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Weight of Expectations" data-color="red"> The clatter of hooves on cobblestones faded as I dismounted Thunder, my boots sinking slightly into the damp earth near the stables. A shadow fell across me before I could even straighten my back. Sir Roland stood there, his armor polished to a deep burnished hue, his silver hair tied back in a tight braid. His dark eyes, sharp as a blade, assessed me with an intensity that made my stomach twist. "You’re Frederick," he said, not a question, but a statement. His voice was rough, like gravel underfoot. "The boy who rode all the way from the northern villages to train under the Dragon’s Keep." He exhaled through his nose, a sound almost like a laugh. "Well, you’re late. The sun’s already dipped below the walls." I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the reins. "I—I didn’t know the timing was so critical, my lord." Sir Roland’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a grimace. "Critical? Child, the timing of everything here is critical. The dragons don’t wait for tardy squires." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "But you’ll do. For now." His gaze flicked to Thunder, who stamped his hoof impatiently. "Tie him to the post. And don’t let him get any ideas about eating the stable boy’s oats." As I obeyed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just stepped into a den of wolves—and Sir Roland was the one holding the knife. </nc-section> --- <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Quiet Challenge" data-color="green"> The stables were quiet except for the soft snuffling of horses and the distant clinking of armor in the armory. Sir Roland emerged from the shadows like a figure carved from the very stone of the castle, his presence filling the space with an unspoken authority. He didn’t speak at first, just studied me with those piercing eyes, as if trying to decide if I was worth the trouble. "Thunder," I murmured, patting the stallion’s neck. The horse leaned into me, warm and steady. Sir Roland finally broke the silence, his voice low and measured. "You’ve got a good horse. That’s a start." He gestured toward the castle gates, where the last embers of sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson. "But horses don’t win wars. Neither do squires who can’t hold their own in a fight." I straightened my spine, though my hands still trembled slightly around the reins. "I—I know that, my lord." He studied me for another long moment before nodding once, sharply. "Then prove it." With that, he turned and strode toward the training yard, his armor clinking like a promise of what was to come. "First lesson starts at dawn. Be ready." The weight of his words settled over me like a second coat of armor. I had no choice but to follow. </nc-section> --- <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Dragon’s Shadow" data-color="blue"> The stables reeked of hay and sweat, but the air was thick with something else—something electric, like the moment before a storm. Sir Roland stood in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the fading light, his silhouette framed by the flickering torchlight. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched as I dismounted, my legs unsteady from the long ride. "You’re late," he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "The dragons don’t care for tardiness." I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "I—I didn’t realize the timing was so important, my lord." Sir Roland exhaled, a sound like wind through a crack in a tower wall. "Timing is everything here, Frederick. The kingdom’s fate hangs by a thread, and threads snap when they’re pulled too soon—or too late." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "But you’ll do. For now." His gaze flicked to Thunder, who shifted restlessly. "Tie him up. And don’t let him think he’s the only one with fire in his veins." As I obeyed, I couldn’t help but notice the way the shadows seemed to cling to Sir Roland, as if the very air around him was charged with something ancient and untamed. The castle loomed behind him, its towers piercing the twilight like the claws of a sleeping beast. And for the first time, I understood why they called this place the *Dragon’s Keep*. </nc-section>