Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ8CGQGZH8DFQ2VC6QTE5AV

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: A Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> Sir Roland stood by the stables, arms crossed, his polished armor gleaming even in the fading light. His expression was unreadable as Frederick dismounted, nearly stumbling in the dirt. "Another squire," Sir Roland said, voice dry as autumn leaves. "How many more must we polish before one actually shines?" Frederick straightened, dusting off his tunic. "I’ll shine, ser. Just give me the cloth." A flicker of amusement crossed the knight’s stern face. "We shall see. Stable your horse, then report to the armory. And don’t dawdle—laziness is rust, boy. It ruins more than mail." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: A Fatherly Greeting" data-color="green"> As Frederick led Thunder into the stable yard, a broad-shouldered knight emerged with a gentle smile. Sir Roland wiped his hands on a cloth, then extended one in greeting. "Welcome, lad. I’m Roland. I was a squire once—stumbled into the stables just like you, if I recall, with hay in my boots and stars in my eyes." Frederick hesitated, then shook the knight’s hand firmly. "I’m Frederick, ser. I... I hope to be worthy of this place." "And I hope you’re hungry," Roland laughed. "Because training starts at dawn, and hunger makes the best teacher. First lesson: care for your horse as you would your brother. He got you here—he deserves your respect." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: An Ominous Encounter" data-color="blue"> The shadows stretched long as Sir Roland stepped from the stables, his armor darker than steel should be—almost blackened, as if forged in smoke. His eyes, sharp and cold, locked onto Frederick before he’d even loosened Thunder’s reins. "You feel it, don’t you?" Roland whispered, glancing skyward. "The silence. No birds. No dragons. Not anymore." Frederick frowned. "Ser?" "The castle sleeps," Roland said, turning to face him. "But you—you carry fire in your step. That’s why you were summoned. The Last Egg stirs beneath the keep. And squires don’t come here by accident." A chill ran down Frederick’s spine. "I didn’t know—" "Few do," Roland interrupted. "But now, you begin to." </nc-section>