Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2D2K17YDMRH427MTZWKY9

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: A Gruff Welcome" data-color="red"> The gates groaned open and I guided Thunder into the courtyard, where the smell of hay and horses met me. A broad-shouldered man in a dented breastplate stood near the stables, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn't read. "You're late, boy," he said. His voice was like gravel in a bucket. "The messenger said you'd arrive by noon." I slid from the saddle, my legs unsteady after so many hours of riding. "Forgive me, sir. The eastern road was flooded, and I had to take the long way around." He studied me a moment longer, then the corner of his mouth twitched. "Sir Roland of Aldermere. And you'll be Frederick." He took Thunder's reins in one scarred hand and ran the other down the stallion's neck. "Good horse. Better than you deserve, I'd wager. We'll see if you're worth him." "I'll do my best, Sir Roland." "Your best will be a start," he said, and led Thunder into the shadows of the stable. "Come. Supper's in an hour, and you'll want to be clean before you meet the others." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Knight Who Knew Too Much" data-color="green"> I had barely dismounted when a voice spoke from the dim doorway of the stables. "Thunder, isn't it? A fine name for a fine beast." I turned. A tall knight leaned against the doorframe, silver threading his dark beard. His cloak was the deep green of the northern forests, and a long sword hung at his hip, its hilt worn smooth by years of use. I hadn't told anyone the horse's name. "Sir Roland," he said, answering my unspoken question with a slight bow. "I make it my business to know who comes through these gates. Especially those who come with a letter sealed in black wax." My hand went instinctively to the satchel at my side. "You know about the letter?" "I know more than you'd think, young Frederick." He glanced toward the darkening sky, where the last light bled away behind the towers. "And I suspect you know less than you should. But that will change. Stable your horse. Then come find me in the east hall. There are things you must hear before the castle sleeps." He vanished into the shadows before I could ask a single question. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: Mud, Hay, and Introductions" data-color="blue"> I was still trying to work out which of the many doors led to the stables when a pitchfork clattered to the ground behind me and someone swore roundly. "Blast it all! Mind the muck, lad!" I looked down. I had stepped squarely into a puddle that was decidedly not water. A stout, red-faced man in a knight's tabard, hay clinging to his hair, was hurrying toward me, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Don't fret, don't fret. Happens to everyone the first day." He grinned and thrust out a hand. "Sir Roland. Knight of the Realm, Master of Arms, and, when the stable boys are ill, Keeper of the Manure. You must be Frederick." I shook his hand, which was not much cleaner than my boot. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry to arrive in such a state." "State? You should have seen me at your age. I fell into the moat on my first day and had to be fished out by the cook." He laughed, a big booming sound that startled the horses. "Welcome to the castle, Frederick. Stay humble, keep your sword arm strong, and never, ever trust the goose by the well." "The goose, sir?" "You'll see," said Sir Roland darkly. </nc-section>