Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

The agricultural world, a planet with 85% of its surface dedicated to cultivated land, aquaculture farms, and livestock operations, stretched endlessly beneath the stars. Only a handful of sprawling cities broke the monotony of the vast plains, with most of the population scattered across countless rural settlements. The purpose of this world was singular—agriculture. Though the agri-world known as Agron Reach, now under Kayvaan's dominion, was not yet fully optimized, it still produced enough sustenance to feed the forge world and the sprawling hive population of his civilized world.

The civilized world was among the Imperium's broadest classifications for human-inhabited planets. Self-sustaining and technologically stable, such worlds often served as vital hubs of trade, governance, and culture. In Kayvaan's case, his civilized world could even be mistaken for a garden world, owing to its fertile lands and pristine landscapes.

Kayvaan glanced at Williameus. "Tell me about the feudal world and the barbaric worlds," Kayvaan said thoughtfully. "Why do feudal worlds persist at all?"

"A feudal world," Williameus began with patient clarity, "is a planet where technology has stagnated, rarely advancing beyond black powder. These worlds often possess rigid hierarchies and entrenched traditions. Most inhabitants are descended from ancient colonists of the Dark Age of Technology. When the warp storms ravaged the galaxy, many isolated human outposts regressed—some maintaining feudal kingdoms, while others fell back to the Iron Age or even earlier."

Kayvaan nodded slowly, considering the explanation. "And the barbaric worlds?"

"They are more primitive still, Master," Williameus replied. "Barbaric worlds lack black powder entirely, their people reduced to pre-industrial or even pre-metalworking societies. Life on such planets is harsh, often defined by endless tribal warfare and survival against hostile environments. In your holdings, you control one feudal world and two barbaric worlds, all located in the Eridanus Expanse. Your forge world, agri-world, and hive world are in the Acheron Reach. Finally, the Nivalis Abyss is home to nine death worlds."

Kayvaan frowned slightly, eyes scanning the star map spread out before him. The regions under his control were clearly defined. The Acheron Reach was the backbone of his domain—its developed worlds formed a stable foundation for his ambitions. Eridanus Expanse, on the other hand, remained neglected, its inhabitants trapped in medieval stagnation. The Nivalis Abyss was different: a wasteland of hostile death worlds, harsh and unyielding.

Kayvaan tapped the map with a gloved finger. "The Inquisition may find such places useful," he muttered. "I wonder if the woman would agree to such an arrangement. Not that it makes much difference if she refuses."

Pushing those musings aside, Kayvaan straightened. "I have a general understanding of my domains now. When time allows, I'll visit each of these planets myself. For the moment, prepare the captain's cabin. I will be hosting some distinguished guests."

Williameus 's pale brows arched slightly in curiosity. "Distinguished guests, sir? May I know their identities to make the appropriate arrangements?"

"No need for extravagance," Kayvaan replied, exhaling tiredly. "Keep it simple. A female inquisitor from the Inquisition is arriving, but fanatics care little for such trivialities."

At the mention of the Inquisition, Williameus stiffened visibly but quickly regained his composure. "Understood, Master. Shall I ensure the cabin is spartan, yet reverent? Perhaps include a shrine to the God-Emperor?"

"You're always thorough," Kayvaan said, allowing himself a faint smile. "Proceed."

With a respectful bow, Williameus turned to carry out the orders. Kayvaan picked up his cooling teacup, the warmth lingering as he took another sip. His thoughts drifted, as they often did—a habitual exercise of reviewing decisions, weighing opportunities against risks, and looking to the future.

Nearly two months had passed since Darius, in a drunken stupor, uttered those treasonous words. By the following morning, Kayvaan had urged him to depart for Mars and undergo augmentation surgery in the holy manufactoria of the Mechanicus. A month later, the flagship of the Knights Templar fleet—the Ebony Shadow—completed its ritual refit. Its medical facilities had been transferred aboard, its crew assigned: captains, voidsmen, and star-chart navigators, all in service to duty.

Three weeks after that, Kayvaan's personal voidship docked at Lion's Gate Spaceport on Terra. There, Williameus handled the labyrinthine formalities of recognition on Kayvaan's behalf. Gene-scans, parchment work, and ancient protocols were observed with ritualistic precision, and by the day's end, Kayvaan was confirmed as the head of the Kayvaan family.

Kayvaan had considered departing immediately, but the rotten state of the Imperium gnawed at him. Between Darius's drunken confessions and his own observations, his contempt for Terra's decadent political web had deepened. He loathed its suffocating bureaucracy, its blind adherence to tradition. The world he had known in his previous life—though flawed—had offered far more freedom. At least there, one could live quietly if they stayed out of trouble.

Kayvaan's idea was a crime. It might have been a secret buried deep in his heart, never spoken aloud or acted upon, but even the act of entertaining such thoughts was, in itself, a crime—a thought crime. From the Inquisition's perspective, Kayvaan was already guilty. As Darius once said, you could hide such sins in your mind for a time, but you couldn't bury them forever. Thoughts had a way of festering, and the Inquisition always found them.

What made matters worse was that Kayvaan wasn't an ordinary man. He had traveled across the boundaries of time and space, and if that secret were ever uncovered, the Inquisition would declare him a heretic or burn him alive as a witchspawn. The Inquisition did not forgive, nor did it forget.

Resentment boiled in his chest, but Kayvaan knew he couldn't fight back. He wasn't some naive idealist chasing lofty visions of justice. Every world was steeped in its own brand of unfairness, and most learned to ignore it. It wasn't worth losing everything. If he could not defy them, he had no choice but to hide.

He had considered fleeing—to the Eastern Fringe. The Imperium's reach was weakest there, beyond the Astronomican's guiding light. In those distant and uncharted regions of space, beyond the Emperor's will, perhaps he could find a measure of peace. But fate rarely allowed such reprieve.

When the Inquisition summoned him to accompany them, it was as though the stars themselves had fallen. Refusal was not an option, and worse still, he was ordered to serve flawlessly under a woman whose presence weighed like a stormcloud. It was a curse—an omen of doom.

Rubbing his temples, Kayvaan pushed back his frustration. He wasn't searching for glory or revolution. He wanted only a simpler existence, free from the grinding chaos of this life.