Run: 2026-09-23-01M36VDZZRPABK6ZDSQBWFBK1H

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Stern Greeting" data-color="red"> The castle stables smelled of hay and horse sweat as I led Thunder through the wide wooden doors. A broad-shouldered man in a dented steel breastplate was waiting for me, arms folded across his chest. This was Sir Roland, the knight tasked with my training — or so the letter had said. "You're late," he said flatly, his eyes scanning me up and down as though I were a lame horse at market. "The sun set an hour ago. A squire who cannot arrive on time is a squire who will get his knight killed." I opened my mouth to explain about the washed-out bridge and the long detour through the marshlands, but he held up a gauntleted hand. "I don't care about your excuses, boy. I care about results." He tossed me a brush. "Thunder, is it? Fine beast. He'll be treated well here. See to him yourself — every night, before you see to your own supper. A squire's mount is his second life." I caught the brush and nodded. Sir Roland watched me work in silence for a long while before speaking again. "We begin at dawn," he said, turning to leave. "Don't be late twice." I brushed Thunder's coat long into the night, my arms aching, wondering what I had gotten myself into. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Warm Welcome" data-color="green"> The stable doors hung open like a welcoming mouth, and lantern light spilled out across the packed dirt. I had barely dismounted when a tall figure emerged, wiping his hands on a rag and breaking into a wide grin beneath a salt-and-pepper beard. "Frederick! At last!" Sir Roland crossed the yard in three long strides and clasped my hand in both of his. His grip was strong but kind, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "We've been watching the road for you since midday. You must be half-starved." Before I could answer, he was calling over his shoulder. "Mara! Bring out some bread and that beef stew — our new squire has arrived!" A round-faced stable boy hurried to take Thunder's reins, murmuring soft praises to the horse. I followed Sir Roland into the warmth of the stables, where a small table had been set with wooden bowls and a loaf of dark bread. "Eat first," Sir said, pouring me a cup of cider. "Training is hard work, and I won't have you starting on an empty stomach." He settled onto a bench across from me and studied me with gentle curiosity. "Tell me, lad — what made you want to be a knight?" It was the first time anyone had asked me that. I thought about it while I ate, and for the first time since leaving home, the knot of fear in my chest began to loosen. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Ominous Encounter" data-color="blue"> A shadow detached itself from the stable wall just as I led Thunder inside. "You must be the new one." The voice was quiet, unhurried, the way a drawn sword is quiet before it strikes. Sir Roland stepped into the lantern light, and I saw at once that his left sleeve hung empty, pinned at the shoulder. A faded scar traced a line from his temple to his jaw. "The kingdom sends me boys like you every few years," he said, walking slowly around Thunder, one hand trailing along the horse's flank. "Bright-eyed. Eager. Certain that knighthood is songs and tourneys." He stopped and fixed me with a look I could not read. "It is not." I swallowed. "I understand, Sir. I'm ready to—" "You understand nothing." He said it without cruelty, and that frightened me more than anger would have. He reached up and pulled a leather cord from around his neck. On it hung a single black dragon's scale, no larger than a coin. It seemed to drink the light. "My first squire was fifteen when I lost my arm to a beast in the Thornwood. My second squire did not come home at all." He let the scale fall back against his chest. "I tell you this not to frighten you, but because a knight's first duty is honesty. The world beyond these walls is waking up again, Frederick. Something old is stirring." He turned toward the dark treeline beyond the castle, where no birds sang. "Now — see to your horse. Tomorrow, we begin in earnest." </nc-section>