Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYATKE17VHDMZRDZNYK90JF

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 stable doors groaned open as I dismounted, my boots sinking into the damp straw. Thunder snorted, his breath steaming in the evening chill. Before I could even secure his bridle, a shadow loomed over me. *"Frederick, was it?"* A voice like gravel and steel cut through the twilight. I turned to see a towering figure clad in blackened armor, the sigil of a broken sword emblazoned on his pauldron. Sir Roland’s face was half-hidden beneath a visor, but his sharp eyes missed nothing—the way my hands trembled, the way I clutched my father’s old dagger at my belt. *"You’re early,"* he said, not unkindly. *"And you’re carrying more than just a satchel."* I swallowed hard. *"Just… precautions, sir."* His gloved hand rested on the hilt of his sword. *"Precautions don’t fill the air with the scent of blood and iron."* He tilted his head, listening. *"Or is that just the wind?"* A distant horn blared from the castle. Sir Roland’s grip tightened. *"Come. The master doesn’t wait for those who linger in the dark."* --- </nc-section> --- ### **Version 2 (Green) – Hopeful & Mentorship** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="green"> The stablemaster’s whistle pierced the air as Thunder’s hooves clattered against the stone floor. Before I could even thank him, a booming voice called out, *"Frederick, lad? Over here!"* Sir Roland stood near the far stall, his armor polished to a mirror shine, his face split into a rare smile. *"Took you long enough to get here!"* He clapped me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance. *"I was starting to think you’d gotten lost on the road—or worse, decided to turn back!"* I grinned, suddenly lighter than I’d been in weeks. *"Wouldn’t dream of it, sir."* He gestured to a young stable boy polishing a saddle. *"This is Tomas. He’ll take your horse. And you—"* he grabbed my arm, steering me toward the castle’s grand entrance, *"—have exactly three hours to clean up before supper. The master’s got a *particular* fondness for punctual squires."* As we walked, Sir Roland’s voice softened. *"You’ll do fine, Frederick. Just remember—every knight here started exactly where you are now. A little scared. A lot eager."* He winked. *"And always hungry."* --- </nc-section> --- ### **Version 3 (Blue) – Mysterious & Atmospheric** <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: The Arrival" data-color="blue"> The stables smelled of hay and old leather, the flickering lanterns casting long, wavering shadows. Thunder stamped impatiently as I loosened his girth, my fingers fumbling in the dim light. Then—a sound. Not a footstep, but the *creak* of leather, the whisper of steel against stone. I turned just as a figure emerged from the gloom, his armor etched with strange, fading runes. *"You’re the new squire,"* Sir Roland said, his voice low, almost musical. *"Frederick, wasn’t it?"* I nodded, suddenly aware of how small my voice would sound. *"Yes, sir."* He studied me for a long moment, his gaze lingering on the scar above my eyebrow—the one I’d gotten in the bandit ambush last winter. *"You’ve seen things,"* he observed, not a question. *"A few,"* I admitted. A slow smile curved his lips. *"Good. The master prefers squires who already know the world isn’t kind."* He extended a gauntleted hand. *"Come. There’s much to show you. And much… you should *not* ask about."* As we stepped into the torchlit corridor, the air hummed with something unseen. The castle walls seemed to *breathe*, the stones whispering secrets older than the kingdom itself. Sir Roland’s voice dropped to a murmur. *"Welcome to the last stronghold of the dragonslayers, boy. Let’s hope you’re ready."* --- </nc-section>