Entry 59: Baron Perenolde

by Hayley Thomas

Dear diary,

The next morning, we continued alongside the edge of the forest. By midday, the scent of smoke drifted through the air—faint but unmistakable. A campfire. We turned in its direction. Soon, the murmur of rushing water reached our ears. Then, we stepped out of the trees and into a small clearing, split by a fast-moving stream. A bridge stretched across the water, leading to a campsite on the far side.

But what should have been a simple traveler’s rest—was something far worse. A tent stood alone beyond the stream, a line strung between its central pole and a flagpole standing a few meters away. Skulls hung from it—human and dragonborn alike.
A grotesque wind chime of the dead.

We crossed the bridge, our eyes locked onto the gruesome display. Then, the tent’s occupant emerged. A figure in blackened armor, stepping forward with deliberate slowness. And beneath the helm—only bone. A skeletal warrior, waiting for us in eerie stillness. He let us cross before halting us with a silent, heavy presence. Then, in a voice like dry leaves, he spoke:

"Will one of you duel me? One on one. To the death."

The words hung in the air, like the skulls on his line. We refused. He shrugged. Said nothing, and simply turned back toward his tent, as if we had never been there. Then Alistan spoke—his voice breaking the unnatural quiet.

"Are you the Black Knight?"

The skeletal knight laughed. A hollow, rattling sound. He turned, his empty sockets seeming to study us.

"No," he said. "I test those who seek him. To see if they are worthy."

And then, he simply waited.

Alistan hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his voice steady. "I accept your challenge." There was no curse binding the duel, no trickery—just a test of strength.

The fight was brief but brutal. Steel clashed against steel, sparks dancing in the dimming light. Alistan moved with precision, his blade finding its mark again and again. The skeletal knight—fierce, relentless—faltered. One final, decisive strike sent him crashing to his knees.

Alistan raised his sword for the killing blow but hesitated. "Your name," he demanded.

The knight’s hollow gaze met his. "Baron Perenolde."

With a swift motion, Alistan brought his blade down. Silence swallowed the clearing as the undead knight crumpled, his unnatural existence finally severed.

Gael frowned, the name stirring something in his memory. "I know that name," he murmured. "Perenolde… He was a minor noble. Rode north to challenge the Black Knight, centuries ago. No one ever heard from him again." His voice turned grim. "Now we know why."

We searched the baron’s belongings, expecting relics of the dead—but instead, we found something eerie. A bedroll, travel rations, a waterskin. All the things a living man would carry. It was as if, even in undeath, he had clung to the remnants of his past life. Uneasy, we left his body behind and pressed on.

The deeper we traveled along the forest’s edge, the quieter the world became. Gael stopped abruptly, his gaze sharp. "Do you hear that?"

I strained my ears. Nothing. No birds, no rustling leaves, no insects humming in the undergrowth. The silence was unnatural, oppressive.

Unease coiled in my gut. "Fiachna," I whispered. My raven took flight, disappearing into the trees.

The stillness stretched. Then, slowly, the sounds of the wild returned. Leaves rustled. Distant crows called. Fiachna returned, landing on my shoulder with a soft ruffle of feathers.
"Nothing," she conveyed, but her unease pressed against my thoughts like a warning. "But I was being watched."

A chill crawled down my spine. Whatever had silenced the forest had moved on—but it had been there. Watching. Waiting.

And it knew we were here.

As we pressed forward, Gael finally voiced a question that had been hanging in the air for far too long. “So, Alistan… what exactly is your plan when we find the Black Knight?”

Alistan shrugged, ever casual. “Ask him what he’s doing here.”

Liliana, ever the optimist, chimed in. “We should try to stop him—without fighting, if possible.”

I bit back a smile. I adored her naïve hope, but I knew better.

The scent of smoke and roasting meat drifted through the damp air. Then came the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil, the restless snorting of horses. Another camp. But this one was different—larger, more structured.

As we stepped closer, the sight was eerily familiar—undead figures, moving as though they still breathed, tending to their weapons, their fires, their mounts. But unlike the late Baron Perenolde’s camp, this one carried a deeper wrongness. The very ground beneath them had withered and blackened, rotting away in their presence.

A ripple of unease ran through our group. Luke, ever watchful, narrowed his eyes and nodded toward the trees. “There’s a transmutation aura over there.” I followed his gaze—and spotted it. An owl, perched on a low-hanging branch, watching us intently. Watching the camp. A spy? A scout? It was a trick I knew well, one I could do myself. But before we could investigate, movement from the camp pulled our focus.

One of the undead had noticed us. A figure draped in dark robes, his decayed form hidden beneath layers of fabric, stepped forward with slow, deliberate movements.

“You passed Baron Perenolde’s challenge?” The voice was hoarse, like wind through a crypt.

Alistan met his hollow gaze without flinching. “I did. I’m here to speak with the Black Knight.”

The undead mage stiffened. “He does not hold court,” he rasped. His tone carried the sharp edge of irritation. “If you do not intend to challenge him, then leave.”

The unspoken threat lingered between us, heavy as the silence that followed.

When we pressed the robed undead about the duels and the curse of the Black Knight, he merely chuckled—a dry, brittle sound like wind rattling through dead leaves. With mocking amusement, he sneered, “Perhaps you should return to Keralon. Learn something of your own history before you come here, demanding answers.”

His words dripped with condescension, and it was clear he knew more than he was willing to share. Frustration flared in my chest. If he wouldn’t speak, I’d find another way.
Carefully, subtly, I reached out with my mind—just a brush against his thoughts, nothing deep enough to raise alarms. Two ideas surfaced like whispers carried on the wind:

"Leave, or challenge my master, but stop annoying me."

And more intriguingly—

"How have the knights of Keralon forgotten the challenge of the final tournament? It was their own king who devised it!"

My pulse quickened. That was the key. I turned my thoughts to Alistan, speaking to him telepathically. I know more. We need to leave—for now.
Alistan gave a slight nod, masking the decision as his own, and we turned to go. As we stepped away, Luke murmured, “The owl’s gone.”
Someone had been watching us. And now, they were gone.

Once we were far enough from prying ears, I shared what I had glimpsed in the mage’s mind. The revelation was enough to send Alistan reaching out magically to Galiene back in Keralon, asking her to research the tournament. But no reply came. A bad sign.

As we rode away, the debate began—what next? Find the stolen lance? Challenge the Black Knight directly? Head straight for Talebra Velora? Or turn back to Keralon for answers?

I shut down the last suggestion fast. Weeks of travel just to scour archives? No.
Luke, to my relief, backed me up. “We came here to deal with the Black Knight,” he reminded them. “Not run back to the capital every time we hit a dead end.”

Eventually, we settled on a course of action: Talebra Velora first. If the city held no answers, then we’d return and deal with the undead camp ourselves.

As we set up camp for the night, another skeletal rider passed in the distance, his empty gaze locked straight ahead, his spectral steed moving without pause. He didn’t acknowledge us. Didn’t even glance in our direction.
Baron Perenolde’s replacement, no doubt. The Black Knight wasted no time.

Continue reading...

Entry one: The trials

Entry two: The bramble

Entry 3: Rosebloom

Entry 4: Hearts and Dreams

Entry 5: of ghosts and wolves

Entry 6: Hillfield and Deals with Fae

Entry 7: mysteries and pastries

Entry 8: The scarecrow ruse
6th of Lug, 121 Year of the Tree

Entry 9: A betrayal of satyrs
7th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 10: The fate of twins
8th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 11: Cursed twins
10th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 12: Loss and despair
11th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Hayley's rules to being a Witch

Entry 13: the price of safety
12th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 14: A golden cage and fiery tower
13th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 15: A trial by fire
14th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 16: Keralon
15th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Letter to Luke 1

Letter to Luke 2

Letter to Luke 3

Letter to Luke 4

Letter to Luke 5

Letter to Luke 6

Entry 17: I shall wear midnight
1st of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 18: peace in our time
2nd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 19: Caern Fussil falls
3rd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 20: I see fire
4th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 21: Cultists twarted
10th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 22: Ravensfield
14th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 23: The Hollow Hill Horror
15th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 24: Burn your village
16th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 25: Ravensfield burns
17th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 26: There will be blood!
21st of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 27: A happy reunion
22nd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 28: The embassy ball
23rd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 29: The fate of Robert Talespinner
24th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 30: A royal summons
28th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 31: of Dogville and Geese
29th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 32: A boggle named Pim
30th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 33: A deal broken
1st of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 34: The cost of doing what is right
2nd of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 35: A dish best served cold
9th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

entry 36: Cornu returns?
10th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 37: A letter from Amarra
11th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 38: The case of the (not) missing villagers
14th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 39: A curse broken
15th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 40: Into the Lorewood
18th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 41: Cabin in the Woods
19th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 42: Myrdin and Anaya
20th of Aran, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 43: Into the Immerglade
21st of Aran, 127 Era of the Tree

Entry 44: A tale as old as time
22nd of Aran, 127 Era of the Tree

Entry 45: The truth
23rd of Aran, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 46: Luke's Ordeal
24th of Aran, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 47: The festival
26th of Aran, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 48: Trouble at the Cathedral
2nd of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 49: Quinn's court
4th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 50: onwards to Latebra Velora
5th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 51: Where is my cow?
6th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 52: Here be dragons
7th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 53: Dragon hoard with a side of scarabs
8th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 54: Leave the basilisks alone
9th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 55: Return to Ravensfield
10th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 56: The needs of the many...
11th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 57: Dreams of Sister Willow
12th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 58: wetlands be wet
13th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 59: Baron Perenolde
14th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 60: Talebra Velora and the lady Morenthene
15th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 61: Cypria
16th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 62: Dragon takes Knight
17th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 63: Return to Talebra Velora
18th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 64: Your presence is “requested”
19th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 65: I stand alone
20th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 66: A day of normalcy
21th of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 67: Into the Neverhold
22nd of Brigan, 128 Era of the Tree

Entry 68: The Warg King

Entry 69: Chased by birds

Entry 59: Baron Perenolde

Continue reading...

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