Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TB67H8ZPVMS88967YK58TJ

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Knight's Welcome" data-color="red"> Frederick had barely swung down from Thunder's saddle in the stableyard, his boots sinking into fresh straw and his arms aching from the long ride, when a broad shadow fell across the doorway. "Easy, lad. Let him drink before you fuss with that bridle." The voice was warm and weathered. Turning, Frederick saw a tall knight in a scarlet surcoat, his silver-streaked beard braided at the chin and his gauntlets tucked into his belt. A long scar ran through one eyebrow, but his eyes were kind. "Sir Roland?" Frederick stammered, dropping at once to one knee. "I am Frederick, sent from Millford to—" "I know who you are, boy. I knew your father." Sir Roland lifted him up by the shoulder with a hand strong as iron, then clapped the dust from his cloak. "And if you're half the horseman he was, Thunder here is in good hands. Come. We'll see him fed and brushed down together, and then I'll show you where a squire earns his supper in this castle." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Knight's Welcome" data-color="green"> The stables smelled of hay, leather, and horse dung, and Frederick was struggling with Thunder's tangled girth strap when the clink of spurs stopped him cold. "You ride into a lord's castle with a loose saddle and mud up to your knees?" Sir Roland stood in the stable doorway, arms crossed over his polished breastplate, his green cloak unmoving despite the evening wind. He was younger than Frederick had expected, clean-shaven and sharp-eyed, and he looked Frederick up and down as one might inspect a blade for flaws. "Forgive me, sir, I—" Frederick bowed so quickly he nearly struck his head on the stall. "Name?" "Frederick, sir. Of Millford. Come to train as squire." Sir Roland gave a single, curt nod and turned on his heel. "Then unsaddle your horse properly, squire. Rub him down, water him, and muck out this stall. When that is done, report to me in the yard. We shall see if you belong here." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Knight's Welcome" data-color="blue"> Twilight had turned the stableyard blue with shadow by the time Frederick led Thunder beneath the low arch, and at first he thought the man waiting beside the trough was only a groom. Then the man straightened, and lamplight caught the dragon crest embroidered in gold upon his dark blue tunic. "You came by the north road," Sir Roland said quietly. It was not a question. Frederick froze, one hand still on Thunder's reins. "Yes, sir. How did you—" "Because no one who takes the south road arrives after sunset. Not anymore." The knight stepped closer and laid a gloved hand on Thunder's neck, studying the horse's flared nostrils as if listening for something far beyond the castle walls. His face, half-hidden beneath a deep hood, was grave. "I am Roland. I asked for you by name, Frederick, though you do not yet know why." From somewhere high above the battlements came a sound — not quite wind, not quite a horn. Sir Roland looked up. "Get your horse inside," he said. "Quickly now. And whatever you hear tonight, stay away from the east tower." </nc-section>