The Moor of Sleep was among the most treacherous of the currently-known dungeons, but with great risk came great reward, and ever since realizing that, Gilgamesh spent the vast majority of his time diving there.

While it was true that he simply felt more at home within the dungeons, in his recent years as an explorer he’d come to crave the rush that accompanied rare and valuable finds. Anything shiny and fancy-looking was a huge hit back on the surface, with no shortage of merchants begging for him to accept their coin, or youthful divers asking to hear the story of how he’d found his treasures, because they were still too young and inexperienced to set hoof upon the Moor.

(The true stories weren’t usually that exciting, but he wasn’t above adding personal flair for the sake of entertainment value.)

Today’s haul wasn’t particularly noteworthy. Gilgamesh and Crispin had harvested a few nice pieces of (mostly) intact barding, some coins with various animal-like engravings on their faces, and a small, satin-lined box that had contained some rings and a gold-chained necklace. He hadn’t looked too closely at the jewelry when they’d first acquired the box, but on their way back to the surface they’d decided to pause for a brief reprieve, refill their canteens and rest their sore hooves.

Once he’d removed the heaviest of his equipment, Gilgamesh settled against a half-crumbled stone wall to look over their haul. He was careful as he opened the small wooden jewelry box once more; the hinges were so old and fragile that he was worried they might snap under sudden movement.

Now that he looked closer at the amulet, he realized the surface had been engraved -- not unlike the gold coins -- the solid gold making the markings difficult to see at a glance. They would’ve been much more legible with color.

Still, he’d recognize that distinctive silhouette anyway, because it was the same shape etched meticulously into some of his own belongings.

With its extravagant tail fanned out around its body and its neck in a gentle curve over its shoulder, there was no mistaking the peacock he wore quite proudly, but this jewelry was completely new to him. He’d never seen this jewelry box, these rings, or this necklace before  

Crispin must’ve noticed him fixating on the little jewelry box, because the white horse plodded to his side with a tilted head and an uneven grin. “Anything good?” he asked, laying down at Gil’s side.

The phthalo courser shrugged and nudged the box towards his companion, who craned his neck to study the object. “It’s just a fancy amulet, really, but… you recognize that image, right?”

Crispin squinted his crimson eyes for a few long seconds, before slowly turning his head to Gilgamesh, his lips pursed in thought. “Tis the same as your banner, is it not?” he asked, not looking quite as confused as Gil did.

“Looks like it. I’ve never seen the imagery anywhere else, though.”

A soft hum rumbled in the back of Crispin’s throat, his gaze returning to the pendant. “It’s not unheard of to find… matching parts in the dungeons. Our inspiration has to come from somewhere, yeah?”

Gilgamesh realized he didn’t have anything to say to that, and while he was initially unsettled by this coincidence, the more he thought about it, the more he began to wonder if there were other matching pieces out there, too. Surely, this couldn’t be the only one.