Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07WY1GA1R0XGN9A7FJQ457

Here are three alternate prose sections continuing the story as instructed: --- ### Version 1 (Red) <nc-section data-title="A Knight’s Welcome" data-color="red"> The stable doors creaked as Frederick dismounted Thunder, his boots crunching on the gravel. Before he could take another step, a shadow stretched over him—broad-shouldered, armored, and stern. Sir Roland loomed like an oak tree, his scarred face half-hidden beneath his helm. "So, you’re the new squire," he rumbled, voice rough as gravel. "Lost, lad?" Frederick swallowed hard but lifted his chin. "No, sir! I was just—" "Just what?" Sir Roland’s gauntleted hand rested on the pommel of his sword. "Training doesn’t start at sunset. It starts now." With a grunt, the knight nodded toward the courtyard. "Stable that beast. Then report to the armory. And don’t be late." </nc-section> --- ### Version 2 (Green) <nc-section data-title="The Training Begins" data-color="green"> Frederick barely set foot on the cobblestones before a whistle cut through the evening air. "Hey! You there—the squire!" He turned to see Sir Roland leaning against the stable wall, arms crossed. The stained tabard of House Valmont draped over his broad frame, and his eyes held the keen gaze of a man who missed nothing. "Thunder’s a fine horse," the knight said, pushing off the wall. "But a squire’s first duty isn’t to his mount. It’s to his knight." Frederick’s pulse quickened. "Yes, sir! I’m ready!" Sir Roland smirked. "Prove it. My sword’s dull from lack of use. Clean it." Before Frederick could react, the knight tossed him a cloth and a whetstone. "And *hurry*. Dawn comes early for those who slumber." </nc-section> --- ### Version 3 (Blue) <nc-section data-title="First Lessons" data-color="blue"> A sharp whistle pierced the twilight as Frederick unsaddled Thunder. "Boy! Leave that to the grooms." Sir Roland’s voice carried the quiet authority of steel sheathed in velvet. Frederick froze, then turned to face the knight, who stood with his arms crossed, one brow raised in amusement. "You there—Frederick, isn’t it?" The squire nodded, wiping his hands on his tunic. "Yes, sir! I just wanted to help—" "Helping is for those who know how," Sir Roland interjected. "Follow me." He led Frederick to a rack of wooden practice swords, their edges worn from use. "Tonight, you’ll learn the difference between *holding* a sword and *using* one." He tossed a blunt trainer to Frederick. "Now, show me your stance." </nc-section>