Shutting the door of the house behind him, Dyder—who is no longer spending the nights in his chair outside of the queen’s bedroom at the request of ?l?—heads to the hall for a second breakfast. He had to rework his schedule, but unlike some other members of the Herst court, the adjustment did not bother him.

  A thick layer of snow covers the walk before him, as well as the Herst Castle courtyard for as far as he can see in the early morning fog—25 meters at most.

  Stepping down from the veranda and into the snow, dense and wet, he sinks down, nearly to the top of his boot. One bogged-down step after another, he makes his way to the pathway, guided by the diffused light of the lamps. Soft pings echo in the distance.

  “Isn’t there shoveling to do?” Dyder approaches a group of groundskeepers. The six older men stand crowded against the wall of the castle; blowing on their ungloved hands, they pass around cheap cigarettes.

  “It is being done, der’Dornytter.” Lun places the metal case back into his pocket and returns his hands to a pair of worn leather gloves.

  “By whom?” Dyder does his best to keep his tone inquisitive and not stern.

  “A few of your men. The snow was too heavy for us. We needed to call in the younger, stronger cavalry.” Lun takes a drag, the smoke filling his lungs and warming his body.

  A sharp whistle carries through the snow and fog—“Heads up, mooncalf [1]”—and then the ping of rock on metal.

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  “Ah, you dumb bastard!” Shortly follows after.

  “Pay that no mind.” Lun waves his hand. “They have been throwing snowballs with rocks from the tree pits since we asked them to shovel.”

  “Are they getting it done?” Dyder asks through a chuckle.

  “Surprisingly, yes.”

  “Glad to hear that they can be of use. Is Osmund with them?” Dyder starts stepping away.

  “By the main door; last I saw of him.” Responds Lun.

  Thanking the groundskeeper, Dyder dismisses himself and continues heading to the main entrance. Taking a rock from a tree pit and a fistful of snow, Dyder crafts a treat for Osmund.

  The tall iron streetlamps of the carriageway before the entrance of Herst Castle slowly come into view through the morning fog, followed shortly by the silhouettes of shoveling men.

  Dyder quickly recognizes his youngest brother by his abhorrent form, back warped like a sickle, legs straight like a broom handle.

  With his free hand, Dyder places two fingers in his mouth and whistles, getting the attention of Osmund—who is about twenty meters away, heaving snow from the walk onto the covered grass.

  “Osmund!” Dyder readies himself, placing himself in a proper throwing stance.

  “Yes?” Osmund responds, growing exhausted and sore in the lower back from all the heavy snow.

  “Fix your form!” Dyder throws the snow-encased rock at his brother. It hits the center of his chest plate with a muffled thud.

  Dropping the shovel, Osmund staggers backwards with a groan. The impact didn’t hurt him, but he sure felt the hit. Looking back at his eldest brother, he watches him enter Herst Castle, laughing from the belly.

  In the doorway, Dyder turns back to his brother. “Do the walk to my house as well. That’s an order.”

  Dyder hears his brother grumble something as the door closes but pays it no mind.

  “You seem to be in an excellent mood, der’Dornytter.” Ferran greets Dyder at the door with a bow.

  Only now becoming consciously aware of the grin on his face, Dyder responds. “I very much am, Ferran, I very much am.” With the first wedding three days away, he is in an excellent mood, and as he had whispered to himself in the entranceway mirror not ten minutes earlier, not stressed at all.

  Dark Resurrection: Shadows of Nekrom

  by SOMBRAcorpDT

  "... Even if I'm devoured, even if my body is torn apart, even if my head is ripped off, and even if my heart stops… I'll come back from Death. Such is my fate."

  [Death and Resurrection], capable of bending the fabric of space and time in order to bring Tristessa back to life.

  Points of interest:

  ?? Dark High Fantasy. The story is going to be brutal, with gore, extreme violence, psychological horror and uncomfortable topics. Be aware about it.

  ???? LitRPG and Soulsborne genre. No System. Statistics appear from "Chapter 76 - Divinity of the Dark Room" onward.

  ?? Slow-burn progression. Very weak MC. Acquiring skills and progressing comes with its share of suffering and pain. Nothing is free in Nekrom.

  ?? Lots of worldbuilding and lore. Currently creating a map of the world with the Inkarnate app!

  ?? Some romance here and there. That be Het, GL, BL, it doesn't really matter since characters try to grasp some happiness amidst a very bad context. (Also no harem, but our lovely MC is a greedy teenager with a big, troubled heart. Keep that in mind).

  ?? Release schedule: Monday-Wednesday-Friday, at 15:30 UTC. The average is about 1000-1500 words/chapter, but once in a while I'll release a 2500-3000 words chapter if the gods of literature are willing.