The Sepulcretum, once a hallowed military cemetery, now sprawls across the outskirts of the city as a a grim relic of the past. Enclosed within the city walls yet forgotten by its heart, this vast necropolis has long lost its solemn purpose. Cracked and weathered tombstones lie scattered amidst uneven ground, overrun by patches of weeds and brambles. The grand mausoleums that once housed honoured soldiers are now broken and defiled, their marble facades chipped away by time and the hands of grave robbers. Coffins lie half-exposed in the sunken earth, their contents pilfered or disturbed by those seeking desperate gains. The few who come to bury their dead here, the city's poor, do so hurriedly, casting makeshift graves in shallow pits before retreating from the place. Rusted iron gates hang ajar, swaying in the breeze, while the faint smell of damp earth and decay permeates the air. In the shadows, the Sepulcretum whispers of lost honour and the neglect of the living, a place where the dead are left to linger, forgotten by all but the scavengers who prey upon them.