The Stoic Novels & Stories

I need to get to Charles. My eyes flashed toward Stoic who towered over me by a whole foot and 3 inches. His eyes were hard as stone, fixed on the fist still balled in my left hand. Smoke blew out of his nostrils and even his mouth, letting me know just how pissed he was. He wasn't alone though, I was feeling the outrage and dammit I'd fight him too if I needed to. "Explain yourself!" Stoic commanded.

“Daciana is right.” Stoic took a step forward, and I was able to see how much the two's sudden departure had affected him. He was obviously trying to stay composed and remain unfazed by the tragic losses of Agred and Alve, but it was clear this wasn't an easy feat. His body language spoke volumes; his jaw clenched in anger and grief yet his eyes were full of defeat. But that doesn't mean he's going to be overwhelmed by these negative feelings. He knows that he can take action to make a difference, even if it comes in small increments.

“Nadia, go back and tell Eustace this. Don’t mess around with the name of the Stoermer Sect. Some people view that sect as mental support. Its name is not one to be tarnished.” “If he goes overboard, someone will stand up to take out the trash.”

If you're wondering how the true response is, I'll be the one to answer. You may lose your sight, but your gaze is beautiful, and your eyes is both lovely and shady. You may have lost your dignity, but you are the purest and highest form of holiness to me. If the mind is the only distinction between people and animals, I will win. All of my plans and logical thinking are in place. My middle name has always been manipulative. I'm going to do everything I can to keep my desires.

I couldn’t complain that he treated me like one of his own servants due to my current dilemma. While he was waiting on his chair, I was dusting the bookshelves, using my handkerchief. Since he was royalty and also an enemy, asking him for cleaning tools might be my death sentence. I kept glancing at the photo while scanning at the books for clues of whatever connection between the two. They might have the same name, but not their personalities. Marcus Aurelius was a famous Stoic, and the guy behind me was a spoiled-looking sadist. “You seem to be interested in this picture.” I almost jumped to my feet when the king was suddenly standing next to me. “You’ve been looking at him from time to ti

Franc paused occasionally, stepping back to admire their work, a satisfied smile playing on their lips. Ren, perched by her window, adjusted the sound loop with a gentle touch. Her voice, barely above a whisper, carried a quiet prayer into the morning air: “Let today be gentle.” It was a simple wish, yet it held a profound depth, a longing for peace and understanding in a world that often felt chaotic and overwhelming.