Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DAE3VZH7AX73E9Z7C547V2

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome (Version 1)" data-color="red"> I had barely dismounted when a broad-shouldered man strode out from the stables, wiping his hands on a leather apron. His gray beard was trimmed close, and a scar ran white across his left cheek. He studied me for a long moment before breaking into a grin. "You must be the new squire. Frederick, isn't it?" His voice was a rumble, warm despite its gruffness. "I am Sir Roland. I keep the horses here, and I'll be the one who makes sure you earn your keep. Thunder there is a fine animal, though he's got more fire than sense. Your father's letter said you were good with horses." I nodded, unsure whether to bow or offer my hand. Sir Roland solved the problem by clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth. "Come, let's get him settled. Then you can tell me why a boy of your years would leave a comfortable home to swing a sword in a cold castle." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome (Version 2)" data-color="green"> Near the stables, a knight stood leaning against a fence post, watching me approach with an amused expression. He wore plain traveling leathers rather than armor, and his sword hung loosely at his hip, as if he had no need to keep it ready. "Thunder's a handsome brute," he said, nodding at my horse. "Lathered up from the road, though. You've ridden hard for a boy who just arrived." I straightened in the saddle, hoping I looked more confident than I felt. "I'm Frederick, sir. I'm here to begin my squireship." "I know who you are. I'm Sir Roland." He pushed off the post and approached, his boots crunching on the gravel. His eyes were sharp and kind at once. "Don't worry about the formalities tonight. Every squire I've trained started out tired, dusty, and certain he'd never be ready. Get down, drink some water, and I'll show you where you'll sleep. Your real training starts at dawn." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome (Version 3)" data-color="blue"> The stable doors creaked open, and a figure emerged into the fading light. It was a knight, older than my father, with silver threading through his dark hair and a posture that suggested he had spent most of his life in the saddle. He carried a lantern in one hand, though the dusk was not yet deep enough to need it. "Frederick of Ashvale?" he asked. There was no mockery in his voice, only a quiet curiosity. "Yes, sir," I replied, climbing down on legs still stiff from the long ride. "Sir Roland, at your service, though you may find I am more useful with a currycomb than a lance these days." He raised the lantern and studied my face in its glow. "You rode in with the sun behind you, and I'll admit I expected a larger boy. But courage doesn't always come in large packages. Leave Thunder with me. He'll be well cared for, and you'll have a proper meal before anyone expects anything more of you." </nc-section>