Run: 2026-11-11-01M7545FYWDZHVJQ44Q6VT5391

<nc-section data-title="Version 1: The Knight's Greeting" data-color="red"> Frederick had barely dismounted near the stables when a booming voice rang across the yard. "You must be the new squire!" Sir Roland strode toward him, his crimson cloak snapping in the wind and his steel pauldrons clanking with every step. He was a broad man with a scarred jaw and eyes like tempered iron, and he seized Frederick's hand in a grip that nearly crushed it. "Welcome to Ravenscar," Sir Roland said, clapping him on the shoulder. "A squire here learns fast, or he does not learn at all. Stable the horse, boy, then find me in the practice yard. If you cannot saddle Thunder yourself, we will have a problem before your first meal." Frederick, stunned but eager, nodded as the knight turned away toward the castle, already shouting orders at the grooms. </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 2: The Knight's Greeting" data-color="green"> Near the stables, among the smell of hay and the low murmur of horses, Frederick heard a quiet laugh. Sir Roland was leaning against a moss-covered post, helmet tucked under one arm, watching the boy struggle with his saddlebags. He looked nothing like the stern knights of the songs — his hair was grey, his armor was worn, and there were leaves in his beard. "Easy," he said gently, taking the reins from Frederick's fumbling hands. "Thunder will think you a thief if you pull like that. I'm Roland. I keep the stables and the young squires, which amounts to much the same thing." He showed Frederick where to rub the horse's neck, where to hang the tack, and where the fresh water was kept. "Training starts tomorrow at dawn," Roland said with a kind smile. "Rest tonight. A good squire, like a good horse, needs sleep more than glory." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Version 3: The Knight's Greeting" data-color="blue"> The stables were quiet at dusk, the courtyard already fading into blue shadow, when Sir Roland emerged from the gloom. He did not shout or stride. He simply stood in the doorway, a weary, silver-bearded figure in dented armor, and looked at Frederick for a long moment. "So," he said at last, his voice low. "Another boy sent to learn the sword, when the last war is already lost and the dragon sleeps in the north." Frederick did not know what to answer. Sir Roland sighed and nodded toward the stalls. "Put your horse inside. The nights are cold here, and colder still for those who arrive unprepared. Tomorrow I will teach you how to hold a blade. Tonight, learn how to be still." He turned and walked away into the twilight, leaving Frederick alone with Thunder and the distant sound of the castle bells. </nc-section>