Following Julra's directions, Tro'go spent the better part of an hour tracking the magpie. He finally spotted it fussing around an ancient oak tree, flying back and forth between the ground and a hole high in the trunk, carrying various bits and pieces in its beak.

The only way to discover if the pendant was up there was to check for himself. Tro'go began to climb, but quickly realised that scaling a tree while wearing a pot helm, a cloak, and carrying a sword was considerably more difficult than he'd anticipated. He was halfway up before it occurred to him that he should have removed these items to make his life easier.

After what felt like an age, he reached the branch leading to the magpie's cache. The bird was nowhere to be seen, so he peered into the hollow.

The hoard was impressive. Fabric with silver thread running through it, coins of different shapes and sizes all polished to a brilliant shine, bits of metal, rings, and even a bright red ruby that caught the light like fire. And there, nestled among the other treasures, was a simple necklace with a metal disc bearing the image of a star.

Tro'go carefully lifted it, noting the initials engraved on the back. This had to be it. He quickly stowed the pendant in his pocket and turned to find the magpie perched on the branch, staring directly at him.

From this distance, the bird appeared as large as any magpie had a right to be, and it did not seem happy.

What followed was a flurry of feathers and claws as the magpie attacked. Tro'go, caught utterly off guard and in no position to fight effectively, concentrated on simply hanging on rather than swinging his blade. He was grateful for the pot helm and cloak, which absorbed the brunt of the bird's assault.

Just as he thought he had enough purchase to actually swing his sword, the magpie managed a particularly vicious attack that caused him to lose his balance entirely. He fell from the tree, somehow managing to hit every branch on the way down; at least twice, he was certain.

When he finally came to rest on the ground, he was grateful the fall had ended but wished for a more comfortable landing. He stood up slowly, trying to catch his breath, while the magpie circled overhead and began diving at him repeatedly.

Ding! Tang! Bonk! The sounds rang out as the bird's beak struck his pot helm over and over.

"Don't you ever give up?" he asked the bird.

The answer came in another bing from his helm.

Tro'go, having finally caught his breath, stood firm and raised his sword, trying to appear as imposing as possible. He attempted what he hoped was a threatening growl, though it sounded more like a cat's purr. But something in the bird's demeanour changed. Perhaps it was the sight of the blade, shining blue-silver as it caught the sun. Perhaps it was Tro'go's defiant stance. Perhaps it was the roar of his "battle cry."

Or perhaps it was the dragon swooping over the trees behind him.

Whatever the cause, the magpie suddenly gave up its chase and retreated to its hole to recount its remaining treasures. Tro'go smiled, nodded in satisfaction, and set off to find Garther.

He walked along the lakeside, waving to Julra, who had quickly returned to her usual feeding spot. She bowed her head low in acknowledgment, then took off to swoop over the lake again in search of another fish.

Humming a cheerful tune and with a spring in his step, Tro'go allowed his thoughts to wander to potential rewards. Perhaps some coin so he could buy provisions, or new armour to replace his makeshift equipment...

He found Garther sitting on a rock, appearing tired and worried. The old man's face transformed when he spotted Tro'go, hope flooding back into his face as if the spark of youth had suddenly returned.

"Did you find it?" he asked breathlessly.

Rather than answer, Tro'go simply handed over the pendant.

"You did! You did!" Garther exclaimed, quickly placing it around his neck. His face glistened with tears. "How can I thank you, my friend? Oh, thank you!"

He gave Tro'go an awkward hug that nearly knocked off the pot helm.

"No trouble at all," Tro'go replied, bowing with a flourish. The grin that spread across his face felt natural and warm.

Through his tears, Garther told the pendant's story. It had belonged to his grandfather, who had brought young Garther fishing since he was barely old enough to hold a rod. They'd spent countless afternoons together at this very lake, sharing stories and silence in equal measure. The pendant was all Garther had left of him now, that, and memories.

As he listened, Tro'go felt his heart break a little. This wasn't treasure in any conventional sense. It was priceless, yes, but only to this one old man. He gently touched Garther's arm.

"I'm glad I found it for you," he said, and meant it completely.

They talked for a while longer, Garther sharing fishing stories while Tro'go mentioned that the dragon, Julra, was actually quite friendly. Perhaps Garther might consider speaking with her next time he fished? The old man's face lit up at the suggestion. He'd always wondered about the dragon, it seemed to be that she had claimed it to be her lake, and had never dared approach.

Tro'go watched the gentle ripples spread across the lake's surface, his line disappearing into the crystal depths. The peaceful quiet felt so different from the shouting, cursing trolls he had been following.

"Do you have family, Master Garther?" he asked, glancing at the old man beside him. "Did you ever bring them fishing here?"

"Yes, well, I had. We used to come regular-like, when he was small. He'd get so excited when he would catch a fish, nearly tumbled right into the water more than once. Wonder what he would make of the dragon being here now."

A sad smile crossed his face. "That all changed when my wife took ill. The fever took her slow, and... well, grief does strange things to people, lad. Makes them say things they don't mean, do things they regret."

Tro'go nodded solemnly, sensing the weight in the old man's voice.

"My boy and I, we both loved her fierce. But when she was gone..." Garther shook his head. "Instead of holding each other up, we just... fell apart. Said terrible things to each other. He blamed me for not getting the healer sooner. I blamed him for not being there when she passed."

He cast his line again, watching it arc through the air. "Pride's a terrible thing, young Tro'go. Keeps a man from saying 'I'm sorry' when he needs to most. My son packed up one day, said he was going to Ineron to join the city guard. Make something of himself."

"Did you ever see him again?" Tro'go asked gently.

Garther's voice grew thick. "No, lad. Word came back that he'd died fighting in the war, nigh on fifteen years ago now. They said he was well thought of, a good man, brave soldier." A tear tracked down his cheek. "Died before we could ever make things right between us."

The old man was quiet for a long moment, then added quietly, "I know he had a son of his own, became a guard too, following in his father's footsteps. But I've never met the boy. Not sure he even knows I exist. Probably for the best, what would an old fool like me have to offer anyway?"

Tro'go wanted to say something comforting, but the words seemed too small for such a large sorrow.

Later as they parted ways, Garther invited Tro’go to visit him at Harefield, he even offered the Greolen a lift on his wagon, but Tro’go declined, "I’ve walked this far, would be a shame not to finish the journey on foot."

Tro'go reflected on the day's events. The feeling of returning something so precious to its rightful owner was worth more than any coin or treasure he might have received. It was a warmth in his chest that no amount of gold could buy.

For a moment, he thought about the magpie's hoard, all those shiny coins and jewels he could have taken. But the thought passed quickly. The magpie might not understand ownership, but Tro'go did. And if he'd known whose any of it was, he'd have found a way to return it. As it stood, though, taking it himself would only trade one hoarder for another. Better to leave it exactly where it was; at least here, someone searching might eventually think to look.

What appeared like treasure, trinkets, gold coins, precious stones, wasn't the same as what truly mattered. Real wealth was the connection between Garther and his grandfather, the memories shared beside this lake, the love that made a simple metal disc more valuable than any ruby.

Tro'go wandered off, following the Adelwending as it left Scrimere and headed ever eastward. Here the river was calm and gentle, as if its peaceful rest at the lake had soothed its waters. He took a deep breath, hummed his cheerful tune, and continued on his way, feeling richer than any hoard of treasure could have made him.