Continuing down the Overgrown Caverns something caught Percival’s eye. A big pile of rocks, looking like all the other crushed boulders around. But for some unexpected reason, this one felt really appealing to him. After approaching the boulders the Courser noticed the reason for the call he felt. A small chest. Upon digging it out of its burial and opening it, he stood there in awe. The chest was lined with fine, soft purple satin. In the middle a golden crown was placed. 

He continued to stare at it. He came down here hoping for treasure. He found one. Lying right in front of him. But yet he continued to stand there, contemplating if he should take it. There was something… wrong with it. He's seen many gold treasures in his life. Both on the surface but also down here, in the dungeon. But he never felt… lured to it.

Percival didn’t like it. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the inviting words forming in his head, coming from the crown. But they were only getting stronger. The more he resisted, the louder they were becoming.

He didn’t want to give in. He heard stories about Coursers going mad over treasure. This must’ve been one of them. He tried backing up, leaving it to rot there but the cursed crown didn’t let him. He continued to fight with his own thoughts, with his own body, flailing around. When suddenly in the surge of courage he smashed his hoof down, hitting the chest. The force of the kick bursted the wooden crate and broke the golden treasure lying inside. When Percival raised his leg the crown was split in half.

He took a deep breath, turned around and cantered off, leaving the cursed treasure behind him in a layer of dust from underneath his hooves.