Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09CA469W43ABMVX25NWB5E

<nc-section data-title="Version 1" data-color="red"> Frederick had barely dismounted when a broad-shouldered knight in a weathered surcoat strode out from the shadow of the stables. “You must be Frederick,” Sir Roland said, his voice deep but not unkind. He offered a gloved hand, and Frederick took it, feeling the strength in the knight’s grip. “Welcome to the castle. If you’re to begin your training here, you’ll learn to listen to the horses as closely as you listen to your sword.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2" data-color="green"> Near the stables, Frederick found Sir Roland waiting beside a line of restless horses. The local knight wore polished mail and a helm tucked beneath one arm, though hay clung to his boots as if he had come straight from the work itself. “You’re the new squire,” Roland said with a measured nod. “Good. Then you’ll start by helping me see to these beasts. A knight who cannot calm a horse cannot hope to command a battlefield.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3" data-color="blue"> As Frederick approached the stables, a voice called out from the half-open doorway. Sir Roland emerged, one hand resting on the hilt at his side, his face stern but lined with weary warmth. “Frederick,” he said, as though he had already expected him. “You’ve arrived at last. Come—before the grooms give you some impossible chore, I’ll show you where the horses are kept. Around here, a squire learns quickly that the stables can teach as much as the training yard.” </nc-section>