Konrad walked alone up to the Long Hill in Fallow Vale with Spirit bounding ahead of him, barking and running to meet Erwan’s own sheep dogs.

Far ahead, under the gnarled tree that clung grimly onto the hilltop, Otto and Erwan wore blankets over their shoulders and sipped tea out of battered tin mugs. Konrad still didn’t feel the cold, just one of the gifts that he had retained after being cut off.

Otto’s hair was still white, though he had put on weight and the color had slowly returned to his cheeks. The reunion with their parents had been tearful and joyful, and over the last few weeks, he had spent more and more time up here, seemingly at peace with the animals.

“Was wondering when you was going to come up here to see me K’nrad,” Erwan said, spitting expertly into the fire.

“Sorry Erwan, it’s been hectic down there.”

“Tha’s what Otto were saying. Duke’s coming, I hear, big business. Come av a cuppa tea. You still got tha old ring of mine?”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Konrad returned the silver ring with its white stone to Erwan. He told him the truth about Cloda, about the Father’s betrayal, and about the last champion of Cloda who had recorded his story in stone. He told him everything, and when he was done, the old sheep herder sniffed and dried his eyes on the sleeve of his old, tattered jacket.

“I knew Cloda was a good sort, not one to go leaving folk to suffer like that. You make em pay for what they did Kon?”

“He did the right thing,” Otto confirmed.

A great fanfare rose up in the town below, and a procession of wagons and carts kicked up a cloud of dust on the road. The Duke of Tajar had come to Fallow Vale, but to the surprise of many in the town, the procession passed straight on until it reached the Clod village.

“Better go down there Kon, you don’t want to be late for your own party,” Otto said.

“You’re not coming?”

“I think this is where I’m supposed to be, for now.”

Konrad made his way down to the Clod village and found the Duke of Tajar and his guards waiting outside the tavern next to Fra Dun, surrounded by a crowd of curious villagers. The Duke twisted his feathered hat nervously in his hands. In his rich, textured clothes, fine tights, and elegant dancing shoes, he looked wholly out of place in the dusty village square.

Konrad met Alice on the edge of the crowd, and the Clods hurriedly moved out of the way to let them through with many pats on the back and proud words of encouragement.

“Ah Konrad,” Fra Dun exclaimed, trotting forward on his bandy legs.

The Duke’s guards took a step forward, but the Duke hissed at them and swatted them away with his hat. His top lip was damp as he bowed to Konrad.

“Lord, ah, Konrad,” the Duke began, and Alice’s eyebrows rose so high they almost disappeared into her hairline.

"Lord Konrad," Alice whispered, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I have heard that your people have some grievances against the Dutchy, and I have come to resolve them for you.”

“Grievence! Konrad here tried to pay Reed a good amount of gold for everyone’s debt, and he refused. Something has to be done,” Fra Dun stated to the rumble of agreement among the gathered villagers.

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“I have received letters from some concerned, ah, parties, regarding your treatment here, and I have come with the greatest haste to rectify the matter," the Duke said.

He had come because he was scared. When Daniel Reed refused to let Konrad purchase the debt of his village, Konrad had written to his companions asking for their help to petition the Duke of Tajar.

Konrad smiled inwardly, imagining the Dukes reaction to receiving letters from the Thane of the North, the Lords of the Lost Coast, the free elven Arcanists Conservatory of Mir, and the Wikkan seat of the witches.

But the letters that probably caused him the most fear were the one from the First Priest of the Prior, who had become a major power in his city, and the one from the Lady of the Faelen, which had been delivered by a blond-haired woman with the face of an executioner.

“Thank you for coming," Konrad said.

“Indeed, I hearby declare all debts null and void in this area.” The Duke looked to Konrad, and all he received was a blank stare and a glare from the red-headed girl next to him. He licked his lips.

“And in addition, the town of Fallow Vale and all of its holdings shall be confiscated from Daniel Reed and henceforth fall under the collective property of the Clods, to be administered by—“

“The Clod Council,” Konrad interjected.

“The Clod Council,” the Duke confirmed.

“Theres a Clod council?” Alice whispered.

“We’ll make one,” Konrad replied.

The Dukes nervous gaze was fixed on Konrad, seemingly waiting for some sign of approval. Konrad gave a small nod, and the nobleman deflated slightly.

“Well, capital,” the Duke said, mopping his neck with a fine lace cloth. “Take this as a gesture of my commitment to your prosperity, and I hope you will inform your esteemed friends of your satisfaction, Champion.”

Two heavy chests were unloaded and set on the floor with the rich clinking of gold coins.

“I think they’ll be more than satisfied, and it’s just Konrad. There are no more champions.”

A wrinkle of confusion appeared on the Duke’s forehead before he evidently decided that he in fact didn’t care and didn’t want to spend any more time here than was strictly necessary.

“Splendid, if that’s all?”

"That's all,” Konrad confirmed.

The Clod council was elected that day, and Fra Dun sat at its head as he was the only one who could read. Daniel Reed’s house was renamed the Clod Council Chamber, although there was not a slick of furniture left in the place. Reed and most of the townspeople having hastily relocated to Tajar in the middle of the night.

The long summer was one of happiness for the Clods, many of whom continued to rise in the darkness of the early morning to work. Only now have they worked with songs and happiness because they were masters of their own beloved fields.

As the first of the cold winds blew in from the north, Alice and Konrad prepared to leave the village. Alice had packed the wagon mostly with books, and Konrad was going to fulfill his promise of taking her to each of the magical places he had visited in search of relics and ruins.

“Look after yourself, Kon,” Otto said, embracing him.

“You look after everyone here; Dun needs help, and the town will need a new council leader one day.”

"Thanks, Kon, but I always liked the hills.”

“Now you make sure you’re back for the choosing you hear?” Konrad’s mother, Hera said.

“I told you, ma, there’s no more choosing. That’s all over now,” Konrad replied.

“We no-one cancelled celebrating, did they? So you just make sure you’re back for it you hear? Alice dear, put a cloak on its freezing.”

The last person to farewell Konrad was his father, Luca. "I hope you'll forgive me for the way I treated you when you were a boy. You're a better man than me; I'm awfully proud of you, son."

"You trusted me to bring Otto home; you were one of the first ones to believe in me. I'll see you when we get back, Pa."

The wagon rumbled away down the road, and Spirit gave a whine, looking back at Otto. Since they had been back, she had spent more and more time up on the long hill. Konrad knew what was going to happen, but he had avoided speaking the words aloud, lest they became true. “You want to go back?”

Spirit nuzzled into him, and he knew she was right. Spirit had always known where she was needed. First it had been the little boy with the leg that didn’t work, and now her place was with the boy who had served in darkness and was now lost trying to find the light.

Of all of the farewells that Konrad had made on his adventures, this one was the hardest. He wept into her fur, and she licked his hand before jumping off of the wagon and bounding back down the road to Otto.

As the wagon rumbled on, Alice kissed Konrad and pulled a book out of her bag, resting it on her knees and starting to read.