Sir Percival had continued his journey from the dark wood where he had encountered the mysterious Lilith some time earlier on a dark, gloomy night. When he had heard her call out from the thicket, he had ran to her succour, but just as she had come into sight in his torchlight, she had vanished. He had called out for her, but there had been no answer but the trees in the wind. He searched the thicket as best he could, as a man such as he could not afford to leave a lady in peril, but there was no trace of her. Even the ground had had no few footprints besides his own. Sometime later he had employed what theurgy the heavens could grant a paladin to try a discern what had become of her, but he learnt nothing. He had prayed that she had been safe, assuming that she had not been a fairy.
His search had taken much longer, and he had passed from one great forest into another, this one must lighter and greener than the last, where he had found Lilith. At last, however, the twisted path through the wood opened into a clearing and the destination that he had long sought came into view. The masonry did indeed have a light-gingerbread hue, although from the exterior it did seem to be of genuine stone than actual confectionary. Nevertheless, the spectacle of the building confirmed the picturesque abode of which the rumours told.
After haltering and untacking his destrier at a ring on one side of the building where there was also a shelter, Sir Percival strode up to the front door. He prepared to knock, but after noticing the door slightly ajar, he pressed against it gently only to find it already open, revealing a comfortable, well-furnished parlour with a hearth whose fire continued to burn invitingly. Some individuals were present there, some seemingly lurking, some engaged in conversation, but he recognised no one. Lilith, the woman he had encountered months ago, and who had also been seeking the Gingerbread House, did not seem to be amongst them.
He entered and bowed by descending to a knee. Those already in the parlour saw a finely dressed gentleman of comely aspect and of a solid warrior’s frame. His face was clean shaven but he wore his light brown hair long to his shoulders. He wore sturdy riding boots of dark brown leather, black leather gloves, a bold blue doublet and leggings and black arming girdle with a fruit-pommelled bastard sword and a misericorde.
'Gentile folkes,' he began, 'My name is Sir Percyvale, sometyme y-clept (called) "the Gallaunt", and I seke the Lady Aislinn whych is a great sorceresse and whych oweth (owns) this House of Gyngerbrede for to bear her felloweshype and recommende me unto her.'