Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8VQQYWK3ABBDYKHKWK8MSK

Here are three alternate versions of the scene where Sir Roland greets Frederick near the stables: <nc-section data-title="Version 1: A Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted Thunder near the stables, a towering figure stepped out from the shadow of the gatehouse. His armor was battered and worn, scratched by countless battles, and his dark eyes studied me with the sharpness of a blade being drawn from its sheath. "You're late," the knight said, his voice like gravel grinding beneath a boot heel. "I am Sir Roland, Master-at-Arms of Dunhaven Castle. I expected you at midday." I fumbled with Thunder's reins, nearly tripping over my own feet as I attempted a bow. "Forgive me, Sir Roland. The mountain pass was flooded and I had to—" He raised a gauntleted hand, silencing me. "Excuses are the currency of the weak, boy. A knight finds a way, or he dies trying." He looked me over from head to toe, his lips pressing into a thin, unimpressed line. "Smaller than I expected. Your father was twice your breadth when he squired here." He turned on his heel. "Stable your horse. Then report to the eastern courtyard. Your training begins tonight." The stable boy gave me a pitying look as Sir Roland's heavy footsteps faded into the dusk. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: A Warm Reception" data-color="green"> A broad-shouldered knight with a sun-weathered face and a thick copper beard was leaning against the stable fence when I rode in, whittling a small piece of wood with a hunting knife. He looked up as Thunder's hooves clattered against the cobblestones, and a wide grin broke across his face. "Well, well! You must be Frederick!" He sheathed his knife and strode toward me, clapping a massive hand on my shoulder the moment my boots touched the ground. The force of it nearly buckled my knees. "I'm Sir Roland. Your father and I fought side by side at the Siege of Ashenmoor — did he ever tell you that story?" "At least a hundred times, sir," I admitted, unable to suppress a smile. Sir Roland let out a booming laugh that startled the horses in the nearby stalls. "Ha! That sounds like Aldric. Come, lad, let's get this fine beast of yours settled in." He gave Thunder an appreciative pat on the neck. "There's hot stew in the great hall and a warm bed waiting for you. Tomorrow, the real work begins — but tonight, you rest." He draped a heavy arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the stables. "Welcome to Dunhaven, son. I have a feeling you'll do just fine." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: A Mysterious Encounter" data-color="blue"> The stables were eerily quiet when I arrived. No grooms rushed out to meet me. No voices called from the courtyard. Only the soft nickering of horses and the creak of weathered wood broke the silence. I slid from Thunder's back and led him toward an open stall, glancing around uneasily. "You ride like your mother," said a voice from the darkness. I spun, my hand flying to the short sword at my hip. A knight emerged from the far end of the stable, moving with the quiet grace of a man who had learned long ago how to walk without being heard. His silver-streaked hair was pulled back from a angular face marked by a long, pale scar that ran from his left temple to his jaw. His eyes — one brown, one milky and blind — fixed on me with an intensity that made my blood run cold. "I — I'm Frederick, sir. I've come to—" "I know who you are." Sir Roland stepped closer, and I noticed his hand rested on the pommel of his sword. "I knew you'd come eventually. You have her eyes." He paused, tilting his head as though listening to something I couldn't hear. "Tell me, boy — on your ride here, did you see anything unusual in the sky? Anything... flying above the northern ridge?" My mouth went dry. I had seen something — a vast, dark shape cutting across the moon — but I had told myself it was only a cloud. Sir Roland read the answer on my face and nodded slowly. "Then it's already begun." </nc-section>