Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0A6ZNCJ71PH96PF2BMSWP1

<nc-section data-title="Version 1" data-color="red"> Near the stables, Frederick found Sir Roland waiting beside a line of patient horses, his polished armor dulled by travel and the honest labor of the yard. The knight inclined his head with measured courtesy. “You must be the new squire,” he said. “If you can earn the trust of a horse, you will learn much here before you ever touch a sword.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2" data-color="green"> Frederick had scarcely reached the stables when a broad-shouldered knight stepped from the shadow of the barn, the crest on his cloak catching the last of the sunlight. Sir Roland’s expression was stern, but not unkind. “You’re late, boy,” he said, though a hint of amusement softened the words. “Come then—if you’re to serve this castle, you’ll begin by learning where the true work of a knight starts.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3" data-color="blue"> By the stables, Frederick nearly collided with a tall knight in mail, who was overseeing the grooming of three warhorses. Sir Roland turned at the noise and regarded the young squire with a steady gaze. “So, you’re Frederick,” he said at last. “Good. A castle can always use a willing pair of hands, and the horses will tell me more about you than any fancy words ever could.” </nc-section>