Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Williameus offered a small, knowing smile. "It gets better, Master. The Kayvaan family's holdings are far beyond the reach of direct Imperial control. The tithes we pay are symbolic at best. Compared to nobles dwelling in the Segmentum Solar, our wealth is considerable."

Kayvaan's gaze darkened thoughtfully. "That explains it. There's no way anyone would willingly settle this far from Terra without some incentive. How much of the family's fortune do I control now?"

Williameus lowered his head and mumbled a number under his breath.

"What?" Kayvaan froze for a moment, staring in disbelief. But he quickly snapped out of it, his face turning red with anger. He shot to his feet, shouting, "That's all?! With just this little bit, you still think the Kayvaan family can be counted as one of the wealthiest? What can you even do with that amount? It's not even enough to buy a hab on Terra!"

Williameus sighed, realizing he had to tread carefully. He began explaining in a calm and clear manner, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

To put it simply, the Kayvaan family had always maintained a unique but pragmatic approach to wealth, a mindset that persisted through generations. Unlike most noble houses, who often stockpiled their fortunes in hidden vaults, the Kayvaan dynasty believed that wealth only served a purpose when used. The principle was straightforward: idle treasure is dead treasure. It cannot feed armies, clothe citizens, or even power a single ship. Its role is to flow—invested and spent to build something greater.

This doctrine shaped every decision made by the dynasty. The previous governor, adhering to this tradition, saw gold not as a symbol of status but as a means to uplift the dynasty's holdings. Hoarding riches in vaults full of Thrones and plundered relics was wasteful in his eyes, a barbaric relic of lesser minds. Instead, he funneled everything into progress. Of course, what others called spending, he called investing.

Kayvaan took a deep breath. He couldn't deny his own understanding of finance was as shallow as a water basin. In his eyes, wealth was about stacks of Thrones glittering before him, the sheer joy of counting them in silence. He still saw economics as a strange mix of trickery and sophistry. But Kayvaan was no fool. With a sigh of resignation, he muttered, "Fine. Then tell me, what exactly did my ancestors spend it all on?"

Williameus answered without hesitation. "Most of it went into the reclamation of Reach. The undertaking spanned millennia—an immense effort given our dynasty's stretched resources. Nine thousand years ago, Reach wasn't much more than a death world—barely fit for a penal colony. Its thin atmosphere meant anyone stepping outside needed full void-rated suits, or they'd suffocate in seconds."

Kayvaan narrowed his eyes, listening intently. The reclamation of Reach was no legend—it was fact. Once, Reach had been a lifeless rock, devoid of even bacterial life. Its jagged terrain, wind-worn and unyielding, stretched under a sky choked in dust storms. By day, temperatures soared past 800 degrees Celsius, enough to warp iron. By night, they plunged to minus 40, a cold capable of freezing coolant lines solid.

Survival had been unthinkable. In those early years, Kayvaan's ancestors must have been half-mad. Yet through stubborn defiance and toil, they began to shape the impossible.

Today, Reach is a jewel among Imperial holdings. No longer a tomb world. Skies of perfect blue stretch above green meadows and thriving cities. Rivers of pure water wind through valleys, feeding crops that sway in warm breezes. Every vista, every stone, speaks of careful craftsmanship—a vision brought to life. Reach is now the kind of paradise chronicled in pilgrim dreams, a garden world wrenched from oblivion.

The cost? Beyond comprehension. Transforming Reach devoured resources that could have raised a dozen hive worlds or built a thousand voidships. Thrones spent on its reclamation would stagger even the wealthiest Forge Lords. It was a labor as vast as the Emperor's own Great Crusade.

Kayvaan shook his head, torn between awe and disbelief. "They truly spent that much? It's hard to imagine, but... they did it. I'll give them that. Fine. The money's gone. Now tell me, what about our defenses? What's the state of the Ferrum sector?"

Williameus inclined his head, ready. "Reach has its planetary Governor's Guard stationed across major cities, alongside a defense fleet in low orbit. The fleet consists of twelve warships and escort squadrons, but they are limited to void operations within the system. These are not Astartes cruisers—nor even fleet-grade vessels—but they'll suffice to keep the system intact for now."

The Reach Fleet was no ordinary fleet. Its ships, equipped with highly coveted warp drives, had the ability to "jump" across vast interstellar distances—a feat essential for navigating the star sea. However, such technology came at a heavy price. The Imperium maintained iron-fisted control over warp-capable vessels, with every ship meticulously registered through the Adeptus Administratum. Acquiring a warp-capable warship was no small task, even for powerful planetary governors or noble consuls. Due to these limitations, most governors settled for warships restricted to void operations within a single sector or system for their planetary defense forces.

"Twelve battleships!" Kayvaan muttered, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and satisfaction. That was more than he had anticipated. "Tell me about my fleet. Do they answer to me?"

"Yes, my lord. The Reach Fleet sails at your command," replied the officer with a crisp nod.

Kayvaan was still learning the finer details of his domain, gaining insight through these conversations. It wasn't wasted effort, though. After studying imperial protocols and his vast responsibilities, he frequently visited the flagship Ebony Shadows. But most of Kayvaan's time was spent in the training chambers, sharpening his physique. He drilled the basics relentlessly—boxing techniques and combat stances—focusing on the subtle precision of his movements, awaiting the day when he would return to the battlefield.

A month slipped by quickly. During that time, the fleet completed three warp jumps and finally arrived in the Eastern Fringe of the Imperium. It was then that Elizabeth emerged from her quarters for the first time since the voyage began. Without preamble, she strode into the study aboard the Black Rose, where Kayvaan sat immersed in reading. "Elizabeth," Kayvaan greeted, looking up from his dataslate. "What brings you here?"

"Now that we've reached the Eastern Fringe, I wanted to inform you that the fleet will disband soon," she stated plainly.

"Disband?" Kayvaan raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his face.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. To counter Eldar infiltration, the Adepta Sororitas will establish three permanent monastry here, along with a hidden bastion. Once we land, the fleet will disperse. Our mission involves creating these footholds and launching an assault on Eden V. This will force the Eldar's attention, buying time for our agents to gather intelligence."

Kayvaan narrowed his eyes. "Shouldn't this be classified? Why tell me?"

"Who said I was telling the truth?" Elizabeth replied with a smirk, leaving him unsure whether she was joking.