Marleyan Soldier Novels & Stories

As Eleanor heard the name "Colonel Frederick Smyth," a profound respect flickered in her eyes. She couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for this soldier who had endured the harsh realities of war. "Colonel Frederick Smyth," she repeated softly, as if testing the weight of the name. "It suits you, my dear. A name with a sense of honor and resilience." Frederick managed a weary smile, touched by the kindness in Eleanor's words. The weight of his experiences seemed to momentarily lift as he shared more about his life as a soldier, the camaraderie forged in the crucible of battle, and the challenges faced on the front lines.

He said hopefully, but he was not so sure, his Commander could get himself out of this asides marrying Mary, it was an order, it had to be obeyed, it was the soldier’s way. Mrs Stone burst into tears, gripping the arm of the young man next to her, “ Why must it be so? Since when has saving somone’s life being a crime, why must they bring sadness into his life. This is Mike he is not Jared, Mike is passionate and kind, he is a very nice soldier and full of mercy, he does not deserve to be troubled, he would not marry that Mary and I know it,” She said amidst tears

Charlie laughed and said, “There is nowhere else Martha can go aside from Mexico now! Martha, oh Martha, you’re finally here!” Having said that, he asked a soldier from Ten Thousand Armies, “How’s the cleaning outside?” The man hurriedly replied, “Mr. Wade, we were already cleaning the battlefield before our lord came in. Those corpses have already been moved into the empty room above, and our soldiers are digging the soil inside and outside the courtyard to hide their bodies. The wind is strong tonight, so the smell of blood will dissipate quickly.”

Mrs Raymond fell on the stairs after hearing the content of the letter holding her chest painfully . " how could you do this to me Loveth ,I caused this . " she cried painfully holding her husband who immediately lifted her up quickly wiping tears off her face . " we will come back another time , if we find any other evidence , we will keep you informed , thank you for your cooperation . " Detective Laryor said as she beckoned on her colleague to lead the way . " see you another time . " Mr Raymond responded " did Loveth really write that letter ? , Loveth could not have written that honey ."

I wanted anyone. But no one was coming. Clunk. The wheel-lock began to turn slowly… deliberately… The door creaked open. I braced myself, my heart pounding through my ribs. And then… A figure stumbled inside. A soldier. He was covered in so much blood. His chest armor was cracked open, his throat torn, and he could barely keep himself upright. Relief washed through my body for a short moment. “Sir…” Seraphina breathed. He swayed, taking in a rattling breath. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

Yet, no matter how many undead fell, Selena's army seemed to replenish its ranks, an unyielding force that pressed forward. Marcus, his face etched with determination, bellowed orders, rallying the soldiers to push back against the encroaching darkness. Sweat glistened on his brow as he parried a strike, his muscles straining against the weight of his adversary's blow. The battlefield was a chaotic symphony of clashing steel, anguished cries, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

the soldier whispered as he gave the office a sweeping view. Harold smiled softly as he took his seat, reaching into his drawers to pull out a bottle of Grenalian ale and two glasses and he sat down and poured the drink into the glasses. "The witches Marcus" Harold said as he passed the soldier his drink. "What about those old hags my Lord?" Marcus retorted as he sipped his glass. "They are becoming too powerful, too independent.... they may be trouble when our plans come to fruition" "What would you have me do, High Marshall?" Marcus said bluntly as he gulped the ale from his glass,

I was no longer just a survivor carrying a weapon; to them, I was still Bellona, the wolf-less outcast who had no place among real wolves. A burly guard named Marcelus stepped out of the weapon storage room, carrying a crate of medical supplies. As he walked past me, his eyes glinted with familiar scorn. "Well, well," Marcelus sneered under his breath, leaning in close as he passed. "Look what the plague dragged in. A useless, wolf-less stray playing soldier with a rifle." Before I could even process his words, Marcelus deliberately rammed his heavy shoulder into mine. The force of the impact knocked me off balance, making me stumble backward against the wooden wall. A small, gasping breath

"Tell her." "Tell me everything," the world came back in hyper-focus, adrenaline as the shock wore off. "Spare no detail." My son! My son was alive! And I would kill whoever had taken him. "I'd never seen armor like theirs," Marisa said. "It was red, dark like a wine stain. No one could crack it. They were organized, not bandits, professional, unlike mercenaries. Too clean. Soldiers." The air around me crackled, and I felt my fangs lengthen: "Who's?"

In the afternoon, it was luck that she survived. The soldiers lined themselves in front of Wayl. “Each and everybody will benefit from these. Dirty roads? No volunteers because of fea and overpricing? How many products do they love?” The soldiers in front of them were like robots. It was enough to scare our enemies that they had the potential to destroy a country. “These are your army, Miss Maryan. I will give you the command button if and only if we share our ideology,” Wayl stated. Here we go, Maryan thought.