Run: 2026-10-05-01M46BGFMMCE72HHGT53T4R1MN

<nc-section data-title="Version 1" data-color="red"> I reined Thunder to a halt beside the stables, where a broad-shouldered knight waited with a brush in one hand and a dented helmet in the other. “Frederick?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” I dismounted hastily, catching my boot in the stirrup and nearly landing on my face. The knight steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. “Sir Roland. I oversee the squires here.” His eyes creased with amusement. “Our first lesson will be getting off a horse.” Heat rose in my cheeks, but his smile was kind. He offered Thunder his palm, letting the stallion sniff it before taking the reins. “You’ve ridden far. See him watered and rubbed down before you think of supper.” From somewhere beneath the castle came a dull, heavy thud. Thunder flinched. Sir Roland’s smile disappeared. “And if you hear that again,” he added quietly, “stay out of the lower courtyard.” </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2" data-color="green"> Near the stables, an older knight sat on an overturned bucket, repairing a bridle. His sword lay within easy reach against the wall. “You must be Frederick,” he said without looking up. “Your uncle said you’d arrive before sunset. For once, he’s told the truth.” I slid from Thunder’s back. “Sir Roland?” “The same.” He rose with a stiffness that suggested old wounds and held out his hand. His grip was firm, his fingers stained with leather dye. “Welcome. There’s bread in the kitchen and a bed above the tack room. Neither is particularly soft.” I laughed, uncertain whether I was meant to. He nodded toward Thunder. “A fine horse. Yours?” “For as long as I can remember.” “Then you’ve already learned something worth knowing.” Sir Roland handed me the repaired bridle and led us into the warm, hay-scented stable. At the last stall, he paused to close a shutter against the evening chill. Scratched into its wood was the outline of a dragon. I reached toward it. “Leave that,” he said, more sharply than I expected. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3" data-color="blue"> “Easy with him. The stones are slippery there.” The voice came from beside the stable doors. A knight stepped into the fading light, his surcoat plain except for a silver dragon stitched over the heart. I brought Thunder around onto the straw-scattered yard. “Frederick, I take it?” “Yes, sir.” “Sir Roland.” He inclined his head, then reached for Thunder’s bridle. The stallion tossed his head and backed away. “He doesn’t usually do that,” I said. Roland studied him for a moment before withdrawing his hand. “Horses notice things we miss. You can lead him in yourself.” As I dismounted, I saw a dark stain spreading through the linen wrapped around the knight’s wrist. “You’re hurt.” “A scratch.” Before I could ask more, a sound drifted over the stable roof: low and distant, unlike any hunting horn I had ever heard. Roland turned toward the hills beyond the castle. Thunder pressed his muzzle against my shoulder. “Get him inside, Frederick,” Roland said. “Quickly.” </nc-section>