Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYASZVKZGPP44C9P5X93C6M

Okay, here are three alternate prose sections continuing the story, following your instructions and color requests: ```xml <nc-section data-title="The Greeting - Version 1 (Red)" data-color="red"> The scent of hay and horses filled the air as I dismounted Thunder, handing the reins to a stable boy. A gruff voice cut through the evening quiet. “You must be Frederick,” a broad-shouldered knight said, his armor gleaming faintly in the dwindling light. This was Sir Roland, a man known throughout the kingdom for his strength and, some whispered, his impatience. He studied me with eyes like chips of flint. “The King expects a swift start from his new squires. No dawdling. Report to the training yard at first light. And mind you, boy, I tolerate no foolishness.” His words were clipped, and the look he gave me could have frozen a dragon. I merely nodded, swallowed hard, and offered a respectful, "Yes, Sir Roland." He grunted in response and turned away, already occupied with inspecting another horse, leaving me to feel the weight of his scrutiny long after he was gone. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Greeting - Version 2 (Green)" data-color="green"> As I secured Thunder in a stall, a warm smile greeted me. “Welcome to Castle Aeridor, Frederick!” A knight, clearly Sir Roland, approached, his armor polished to a mirror sheen. He held out a hand, calloused but surprisingly gentle. “I’ve been expecting you. Long ride, I presume?” He had kind eyes, and the way he spoke suggested a sense of duty tempered with genuine warmth. "The King is pleased to have you. We need more good men and women in service of the realm. The training will be rigorous, yes, but fair. Get some rest, lad. Head to the training yard at dawn tomorrow. And perhaps, if you have a moment later, you can join us for supper in the Great Hall? It’s a good chance to meet some of your fellow squires.” He clapped me on the shoulder, a gesture of encouragement, and moved on to attend to a restless mare, leaving me feeling surprisingly hopeful. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Greeting - Version 3 (Blue)" data-color="blue"> I felt the familiar ache in my muscles as I led Thunder towards the stables. A knight emerged from the shadows, his face partially obscured by the deepening twilight. This had to be Sir Roland. He didn’t offer a greeting, merely observed me with keen, observant eyes. “So, the King’s latest prospect,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. "He believes you have potential. Potential is a fragile thing, boy. It needs to be nurtured, but it can be easily broken. Attend the training yard at first light. Show me what you’re made of. And remember,” he paused, his gaze piercing, “a squire’s worth is not measured by his dreams, but by his obedience." He then turned and disappeared back into the shadows, leaving me with a chilling feeling of uncertainty and the distinct impression that I was being judged already. </nc-section> ```