Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2H8JNE89XF5JP5TEQ5X6YH

Version 1 <nc-section data-title="A Knight's Greeting - Version 1" data-color="red"> As Thunder slowed to a trot near the stables, a gruff voice called out, "Halt there, boy!" Frederick pulled on the reins, bringing his horse to a stop. A burly knight in dented armor strode forward, his hand resting on the pommel of his broadsword. "You must be the new squire," Sir Roland grunted, his scarred face twisted into a scowl. He circled Frederick like a wolf sizing up its prey. "Small for your age. Weak-looking. They say you have potential, but I see only another disappointment." Sir Roland spat on the ground. "The stables need mucking. Don't expect to touch a blade until they're spotless. Understood?" </nc-section> Version 2 <nc-section data-title="A Knight's Greeting - Version 2" data-color="green"> The aroma of fresh hay and horses drifted from the stables as Frederick approached. A tall figure emerged, his silver hair catching the last rays of sunlight. Sir Roland's eyes crinkled with warmth as he smiled. "Ah, Frederick! We've been expecting you." He extended a weathered hand, calloused from years of wielding a sword. "Your father wrote to me. He speaks highly of your courage." Sir Roland patted Thunder's neck gently. "Let's get your horse settled, and then I'll show you around. Every knight begins somewhere—even I started in these very stables, mucking out stalls." He chuckled, his laughter rich and inviting. </nc-section> Version 3 <nc-section data-title="A Knight's Greeting - Version 3" data-color="blue"> Frederick had barely dismounted when he felt a heavy gaze upon him. Near the stable entrance stood a knight draped in shadow despite the fading daylight. Sir Roland's face was unreadable, his arms crossed over a chestplate etched with strange, spiraling runes. "So, you've arrived," he said, his voice neither warm nor cold—merely curious. He took a step closer, studying Frederick with eyes that seemed to pierce beyond flesh and bone. "Interesting. Most squires arrive bursting with eagerness. You, however, carry something else." He paused, tilting his head. "Tell me, boy, do you dream of fire?" Without waiting for an answer, Sir Roland turned and gestured toward the stables. "Come. There is much to discuss—and very little time." </nc-section>