A will

Just as Ludwig was about to step away, the cracked stone beneath his boot let out a soft, brittle whisper—like something dry and long-forgotten sighing under his weight. The faint chime, of a notification rang in his ears.

The small pale-blue window flickered into existence before him.

[The Bastos March seems to be a fitting place to build a Necropolis. Would you like to claim the right to build one?]

The window hanged there for a while, its content confusing.

Ludwig's brow creased faintly. He stared at the glowing text, unmoving. The quiet of the landscape felt heavier with the message hanging in the air. A strange one this time, too fickle actually to be of any real or visible tangibility.

He said nothing at first. Only stared.