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<nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Knight at the Stables (Version 1)" data-color="red"> Frederick reined Thunder to a halt in the stable yard, his legs aching from the ride and his cloak stiff with road dust. Before he could dismount, a tall figure stepped from the shadow of the stables, mail clinking cold against mail. "You're late," said the knight, his voice flat and hard as hammered iron. Sir Roland was scarred across the cheek and broad through the shoulders, his tabard bearing the black dragon of the kingdom. He did not offer a hand. Instead he circled Thunder once, slowly, inspecting the horse's legs, its tack, and then Frederick himself. "Lord Harrow's boy. A squire, not a stablehand. You will learn the difference here, or you will not last the winter. Unsaddle him. Brush him. Then report to the armory." Frederick swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. Sir Roland's eyes narrowed. "And wipe that look from your face. The castle does not tolerate softness." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Knight at the Stables (Version 2)" data-color="green"> Frederick was fumbling with Thunder's reins when a laugh rang out from the stable door, warm and booming. "Well now, look at that! A new squire who's already lost a fight with his own horse!" Sir Roland came forward with a bucket in one hand and an apple in the other. He was older than Frederick had expected, his beard gone grey, his belly round under his armor, and his smile kind. He offered the apple to Thunder, who took it eagerly, then clapped Frederick on the back so hard he nearly stumbled. "I am Sir Roland. Welcome to the finest, smelliest, most honest place in the whole castle, lad. If you can survive the stables, you can survive anything the King throws at you." He showed Frederick where to hang his saddle and which stall was Thunder's, winking. "Don't mind the other knights. They only growl before breakfast. Come on, I'll find you something to eat before you fall off your horse." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="Chapter 2: The Knight at the Stables (Version 3)" data-color="blue"> By the time Frederick reached the stables, the mist had come in from the fields and the yard was empty except for the sound of restless horses. Thunder snorted and stamped, eager for shelter. From the dark of the nearest stall, a man was watching, his face half-hidden, one eye pale and blind. "You should not have come after dark," Sir Roland said quietly. He stepped into the lantern light, his hand resting, almost protective, upon the hilt of his sword. "I am Roland. I keep the stables, and I keep watch. They say a squire has come to train for the King. They also say the last dragon still sleeps beneath this castle, and that it wakes for those who carry its blood." Frederick's heart thumped hard against his ribs. Sir Roland studied him for a long moment, then turned toward the stables. "Stable your horse. Do not answer if you hear scratching in the walls at night. And do not go near the east tower, no matter who calls you there." </nc-section>