Captain Nathaniel Flint Novels & Stories

an officer shouted. But Nathaniel raised a hand. “Not yet.” He walked forward, calm and arrogant. His eyes met minesteady, sure, unbroken. “I have something to say,” he stated. The judge paused. “You’re not authorized to speak.” “Then arrest me after I’m done,” Nathaniel said. “But let the truth come out first.” The courtroom was silent now. Even Charles looked uncomfortable. Nathaniel turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I have evidence proving that Charles Walker is

I glanced between them, confusion prickling at my skin. “You knew his father?” I asked hesitantly. Reynolds hesitated. “Years ago. He was a good man.” Nathaniel nodded, “Yeah, thanks captain, but we should go now” he said as he stood up abruptly. “But I still have questions” I whisper, blinking at him. “We have enough already” Without another word, he walked off leaving me with no choice but to follow.

The child's face went deathly pale from the pain. "Stop!" A sharp command rang out. Commander Nathaniel Powell sat on horseback, dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Guard with a ceremonial blade at his waist. He was the late deposed crown prince's cousin. When Roland saw him, he quickly masked his fury, though his tone still held disdain. "Commander Powell, excellent timing. I was merely dealing with a beggar child. Forgive the commotion." However, Nathaniel did not even glance at him. His gaze was locked on Adrian's face. The boy was still held by the guard but stood with his spine straight.

How could Ashton stand a chance of winning? Flint was certain that the technique in Ashton's hands would inevitably be his. A murderous tension filled the air as Flint's subordinates gathered all around, their eyes flashing dangerously. They were going to make sure nothing unexpected happened. "Get on with it. Don't let him underestimate us!" Flint commanded in his gravelly voice. "Yes, sir!" Nelson's bearing changed. His eyes focused with fierce ferocity, and his muscles bulged as a wave of commanding power rolled off him. The very air seemed to buckle under the intensity of his murderous intent.

Sandra: Oh! You're a marine! That's so manly. But isn't it dangerous? Victor: Not really. It’s more paperwork than anything else. We’re on the sea most of the time, avoiding enemy waters, so it’s pretty chill. Sandra: That made you ten times more attractive to me. It’s funny, but I feel like you hold an important position, too. Victor: Yeah. I’m the captain. Sandra: That makes so much sense. You looked like you were the boss of something in your pictures. Are you a good captain, though? Take good care of your men?

POV EMMA BELLE The first person to appear was Nathaniel. He walked out of the command tent with his usual stride—erect, precise, and regal. His silver robes were perfectly pressed, and his staff was held at the exact ninety-degree angle he preferred. To a casual observer, he looked exactly like the stoic Logician who had led us through the blockade. But I wasn't a casual observer.

And Nathaniel is not able to digest this thing at all that his brother has been murdered. Seeing Nathaniel, it is clearly visible that he is less sad over the death of his brother but more angry at that murderer. Flame is visible in his eyes. I do not even know what Nathaniel will do to him if that murderer is in front of him. The moment he came to the hospital, I saw that he was fuming with anger. His burning eyes were enough to make anyone wet his pants, and his tall stature and muscular body were adding more danger to his menacing aura. On seeing him, all the employees turned aside because no one wanted to reach under his hands and feast on his own death.

I flinched and retracted. "Nope I don't want to hear your thoughts and I am definitely not going take any advice from you." I said and shook my head vigorously "He always wanted you. You know he called-" Michael explained but was cut off. "Mr. Hawthorne you should really leave her alone now." I turned around and saw Nathaniel leaning against my door. He had his hands in his pockets and he was glaring at Michael. "Mr. Lac-Lachlan... I --I was..." He began stuttering but was not able to form any actual words.

“Careful, Brooks. There is the side of making complaints, and there is the side of instigating something. Right now, it oddly sounds like you’re calling for treason. I hope I am wrong nevertheless.” “That’s exactly what I’m calling for,” Nathaniel says without breaking stride, leaning even further forward now, his eyes glittering. “Reid Flanagan/Caddel founded it, nothing more, he can’t proceed without us, it’s not a family business. The rest of his leadership is just smokes and mirrors. This empire can be rebuilt, stronger and even much better than it is right now, without him standing in the way, being a lover boy.”

“A—are you sure, sir?” “If I want an advantage over the Montgomerys, I’ll have to set aside my pride,” Nathaniel said calmly. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win Serena back. Do as I say.” “Yes, sir,” Gavin replied. “Right away.” At exactly two in the afternoon, the draft arrived on his desk. Nathaniel approved it immediately and left for the airport. By five, he was standing inside a private suite at Stonewatch Rehabilitation Network in Greyhold. An older man, well into his nineties, sat on a sofa, his eyes wet with emotion. A decorated soldier still revered by the nation, yet to Nathaniel, he was only an old man who had abandoned his own blood.