Run: 2026-10-08-01M4E0FA7C6BRPESS9MEJ9MSK7

<nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome (Version 1)" data-color="red"> I had barely swung down from Thunder's saddle when a broad-shouldered figure strode out from the stables, his boots crunching over the straw. He wore a dented breastplate polished to a dull shine, and a grey beard framed a face weathered by years of sun and battle. Behind him, a stable boy scrambled to take the reins. "You must be Frederick," the man said, his voice warm despite its gravel. "I am Sir Roland. I have been expecting you since the morning bells. Your horse has a fine temper, I see. Thunder, is it?" I nodded, suddenly aware of the dust on my travel cloak. "Yes, sir. He's been restless since the river crossing." Sir Roland laughed and clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Then you two will get along well. Come, let the lad see to him. There is a bed waiting for you in the barracks, and I suspect you have not eaten since dawn." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome (Version 2)" data-color="green"> Thunder snorted and tossed his head as I dismounted, and I had to steady myself against the saddle to keep from stumbling. Before I could regain my footing, a tall knight emerged from the shadows of the stable doorway. He moved with a surprising ease for a man so armored, and his eyes, sharp and grey, took in my dusty boots and travel-worn face in a single glance. "Frederick, I presume," he said. "I am Sir Roland, and I will be overseeing your training. Do not look so alarmed. You have ridden hard, and it shows, but you have also arrived before the rain, which is more than some of my previous squires managed." I bowed as best I could with the reins still in hand. "Thank you, Sir Roland. I hope to prove worthy of the honor." "Hope is a fine place to begin," he replied, nodding toward the stable hand who was hurrying forward. "Tomorrow we will see what you are made of. Tonight, rest, and do not let that stallion of yours eat the stable boy's supper." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 1: Sir Roland's Welcome (Version 3)" data-color="blue"> The clatter of hooves had barely faded when I heard a voice call out from beside the stables. An old knight leaned against a wooden post, a half-eaten apple in one hand and a whetstone in the other. His surcoat bore the faded emblem of a silver stag, and his hair was as white as the morning frost. "Ah, the new squire," he said, pushing himself upright with a groan. "Sir Roland, at your service, though I confess I am more service than knight these days. Your father wrote to me. He said you had courage enough for ten men and patience enough for none." My cheeks warmed. "He is not wrong, sir." Sir Roland chuckled and tossed the apple core toward a nearby cart. "Good. Courage I can teach you. Patience usually comes with age, and you have plenty of time for that. Now, dismount properly, let the groom take that fine beast, and come inside. The cook has been grumbling about your arrival all afternoon, and I would hate for you to face her hungry." </nc-section>