Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0A3ADTEPJENC60DKW5PC05

<nc-section data-title="Version 1" data-color="red"> Frederick had scarcely dismounted before a broad-shouldered knight in polished mail came striding from the shadow of the stables. "You must be the new squire," he said, his voice carrying the easy authority of long command. "I am Sir Roland. If you mean to serve at this castle, you'll learn its horses before you learn its halls." He offered Frederick a firm hand to shake, then nodded toward the stalls where restless hooves thudded against straw. "Come along, lad. We'll see whether you're frightened of beasts, or only of me." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2" data-color="green"> Near the stables, Frederick was met by a knight in a weathered surcoat, who raised a hand in greeting as if he and the boy were already old acquaintances. "Sir Roland," he said with a grin, "and you must be Frederick." The knight glanced over the row of stable doors, listening to the snorts and stamping within. "A castle teaches many lessons, but the horses tell the truth sooner than men do. If you can calm a nervous mare, you'll manage the rest of your duties well enough." His tone was warm, but there was steel beneath it, as though every kindness came wrapped in a lesson. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3" data-color="blue"> As Frederick approached the stable yard, a knight with a scar across his chin stepped out to meet him, resting one hand on the pommel of his sword. "Sir Roland," he introduced himself, giving a short, respectful bow. "You've arrived at a good time. The horses are being settled, and a squire should know how a castle breathes before he ever sets foot in the keep." He looked Frederick over with sharp, measuring eyes, then softened slightly. "Walk with me. I’ll show you where the tack is kept—and if you’re lucky, I may even tell you which horse kicks and which one only pretends to." </nc-section>