Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95CQK58D464M0KVABQDS27

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> As I dismounted near the stone-hewn stables, a barrel-chested man with a salt-and-pepper beard stepped into the fading light. It was Sir Roland. He didn't offer a smile, only a heavy grunt as he finished inspecting the shoe of a massive warhorse. "You're late, boy," he rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "The stables are where a knight’s journey begins—not in the banquet hall. Tend to your beast, see him fed and brushed, then find me in the courtyard. We don't coddle squires here." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Mentor's Greeting" data-color="green"> I guided Thunder toward the warmth of the stables, where a man in polished brigandine stood waiting. Sir Roland stepped forward, his eyes crinkling with a tired but genuine smile. "Welcome to the keep, Frederick," he said, clapping a heavy, calloused hand on my shoulder. "It’s a long ride for a young man, but a necessary one. Settle your mount and ensure he’s well-rested. The life of a squire is grueling, but there is no greater honor. We’ll start your training at first light." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Watchful Eye" data-color="blue"> I pulled Thunder to a halt by the stable archway, his hooves clattering on the uneven cobblestones. From the deep shadows emerged the silhouette of Sir Roland, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his longsword. He watched me with a piercing gaze that seemed to measure the weight of my spirit. "So, the new blood finally arrives," he murmured, stepping into the torchlight. "Don't just stand there gawking at the masonry, lad. If you're to be my squire, you must learn that a horse's comfort comes before your own. Get to work, and show me you have the discipline required for these walls." </nc-section>