Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAR95FTTH7N0S8TF9SSG0K

Okay, here are three alternate prose sections continuing the story, each with a different "data-color" as requested, depicting Sir Roland greeting Frederick near the stables. **Version 1 (red)** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: First Impressions" data-color="red"> Thunder slowed as I reached the stables, the scent of hay and horse sweat filling my nostrils. A figure detached itself from the shadowed doorway - a knight, tall and imposing, clad in well-worn but polished steel. This had to be Sir Roland. He didn’t smile. His eyes, the color of flint, assessed me with a chilling thoroughness, taking in my travel-stained tunic and the slightly nervous grip I held on the reins. “You’re Frederick, then?” His voice was a gravelly rasp. “I expected someone…larger. Your father spoke highly of your lineage, but lineage doesn't saddle a horse or wield a sword. Let’s see if you’re more than just a name. DisMount. And quickly.” He gestured curtly towards a stablehand who immediately rushed to take Thunder. The warmth of the setting sun suddenly felt…distant. </nc-section> **Version 2 (green)** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: A Welcoming Hand" data-color="green"> Thunder, thankfully eager for rest, practically walked into the stables. As I dismounted, a hearty laugh boomed out. A knight, Sir Roland I presumed, emerged, wiping grease from his hands with a leather cloth. He wasn’t what I expected. Instead of the stern, unyielding figure I’d imagined, he was… approachable. Weather-beaten lines crinkled around his kind eyes as he extended a hand. “Frederick, welcome to Castle Aeridor! Your father’s a good man. Said you had a head for strategy and a willingness to learn. That’s half the battle won right there.” He clasped my hand in a firm, reassuring grip. “Don’t mind the state of me, been wrestling with a stubborn wheel on Old Bess’s cart all afternoon. Come, let's get you settled. Stablehand, take good care of this magnificent creature!” He nodded towards Thunder, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. </nc-section> **Version 3 (blue)** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: Shadows of the Past" data-color="blue"> The stables were a haven of quiet amidst the castle’s bustling activity. I slid from Thunder’s back, my boots sinking slightly into the straw-covered floor. A figure stood silhouetted against the dim light, watching me. Sir Roland. He didn't move to greet me, just *observed*. There was a sadness in his posture, a weight that seemed to press down on his broad shoulders. “Frederick,” he said, his voice quiet, almost melancholic. “Your name… it’s a familiar one. Your father served with distinction, years ago. A brave man, lost too soon.” He paused, his gaze drifting to a chipped stone carving of a dragon above the stable door. “This castle… it remembers. It remembers those we’ve lost. We’ll speak later, when you’re settled. For now, let the stablehands see to your mount. There are things you must learn here, things beyond swords and strategy. Things about Aeridor…and its history.” </nc-section> I’ve tried to give each version a distinct tone and hint at different aspects of Sir Roland's character and the castle's atmosphere. Let me know which direction you'd like to take the story!