Jacob

In this era, the Space Marines were no longer just warriors—they had become something much more. Since the second founding of the army, every Space Marine had embraced the role of a religious knight, akin to the "Paladins" of the Middle Ages. Clad in heavy power armor, these warriors not only mastered the art of battle and killing but also devoted themselves to the teachings of the state religion. Their faith in the Emperor was drilled into them during training and combat alike. Across the Empire, they were known not only as warriors but also as "Brother Astartes."

The captain raised an eyebrow and gestured at the man's towering stature, measuring him with a sweeping motion of his hand. "Clearly. Alright, state your name. I'll need to report you to your commanding officer or the local enforcer. If you don't have a good explanation for being here, you'll face the consequences."

"I am Kayvaan Shrike."

The captain froze. His eyes widened as he processed the words, and his expression quickly shifted from disbelief to realization. "You… You're Kayvaan Shrike?" He recovered swiftly, bowing slightly. "Forgive me, sir. I didn't recognize you at first. My deepest apologies for my earlier tone. We received word of your potential arrival a few days ago, but I never imagined you'd come so soon. Please, come in."

Indeed, a document about Kayvaan had arrived at the local headquarters three days prior. Marked with a red alert, it specified that Kayvaan was not to undergo a second body modification procedure. At the time, no one understood the note's significance. Why would anyone need a second modification? Wasn't the procedure completed all at once? But seeing Kayvaan in person had begun to clarify the mystery. Still, the captain knew better than to ask questions that weren't his to ask.

Inside the monastery, the air was heavy with reverence. The main hall was an expansive auditorium with one wall covered in intricately painted glass. Sunlight poured through, casting vibrant hues across the room. At the far end stood a massive organ, its pipes gleaming in the light. An elderly man in a black robe sat at the organ, his fingers dancing over the keys, filling the hall with sacred music.

The melody was ancient—a military hymn said to date back to a mythical era. Legends told of soldiers singing it in the quiet moments between battles, drawing strength and solace from its verses to honor the Emperor. "Please wait here," the captain said, gesturing toward a bench near the aisle. "Sir Jacob Keyes will meet with you shortly to explain the procedures and address any concerns about establishing your Space Marine chapter." With that, he left.

Kayvaan and Darius sat on one of the long wooden benches. The hymn played on for another five minutes before it came to a close. The robed man stood, and approached them. His gaze lingered on Kayvaan, a look of quiet curiosity in his eyes. "I am Jacob Keyes," he introduced himself, "And you must be Sir Kayvaan."

"Yes, I am Kayvaan Shrike."

Jacob's eyes softened, and he sighed. "So it's true. Even after a thousand years, even with the curse that plagues your body, the crow's genes in you remain unchanged. Pale skin, black hair—you are every bit the shadowed guardian the legends spoke of." He hesitated, then asked, "How should I address you? You appear young, yet you carry the weight of many lifetimes. Should I call you 'my child,' as I do the others? Or would 'elder' suit you better?"

"No need for formalities," Kayvaan said evenly. "Just call me Kayvaan. The world I once knew is gone, and past glories mean little now. I am here for my reward: to establish a Space Marine chapter."

Jacob nodded, his expression solemn. "Of course. We must follow protocol, even for someone like you. May I see the necessary documents?"

"I carry the Emperor's commission," Kayvaan said, reaching into his cloak.

Jacob raised a hand. "Not here. Let's move to a more private setting. Follow me." He led them to a hidden door at the back of the auditorium. Behind it lay a peaceful porch overlooking a small courtyard. To the right, floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in natural light. To the left, a neatly trimmed lawn stretched out, dotted with round wooden tables and sturdy chairs.

"Please, have a seat. Would you like tea or coffee?" Jacob asked, gesturing to the chairs.

"Tea, thank you," Kayvaan replied.

"Coffee for me," Darius added.

Jacob nodded and disappeared briefly, returning with a silver tray. On it sat a polished teapot, a small coffee pot, and two round cups. The aroma of freshly brewed tea and coffee wafted through the courtyard as he poured.

"Please forgive my little hobby," Jacob said with a warm smile. "When I was young, I didn't care about such things. But at this age, I find myself finding joy in small things, like this peaceful environment."

 Kayvaan inhaled the aroma of the tea and took a careful sip. "This is excellent tea. But let's not dance around the reason I'm here."

Jacob's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Straight to the point, then. Establishing a brand-new Chapter."

"I don't have the patience to waste time,"Kayvaan said with a grin.

Jacob nodded. "Fair enough. A loyal soldier of the empire wouldn't have time to waste on idle chatter. But before we delve into the details, let me mention something about this tea you seem to enjoy so much. The coffee beans and black tea both come from Kantarra, an agricultural world renowned for its tea gene pool. The finest in the galaxy, I assure you."

Jacob's tone grew more serious as he shifted to the topic at hand. "Now, about your mission. Forming a new chapter isn't a simple task. The Raven Guard, for instance, suffered devastating losses during the Great Rebellion. Their legion's Gene seeed was almost obliterated. Rebuilding something like that is no small feat. When the empire faces such a crisis, they assign think tank curators to manage the remnants of the gene pool. These curators will swear loyalty to you, but understand this: while they'll oversee the process, the actual work of restoring the gene is yours alone. Neither the empire nor headquarters can offer much help."

Kayvaan nodded solemnly. "I understand. I'll find a way to handle it."

Jacob continued, his tone measured. "The gene-seed, as you might already know, serves as the foundation for crafting Astartes. Think of it as a sacred template, imbued with the genetic legacy of the Emperor's Primarchs—a relic of immeasurable value and potential. Unlike the chaotic randomness of human birth, the gene-seed ensures that those chosen to bear it are elevated far beyond ordinary mortals. It instills them with strength, resilience, and the traits necessary to embody the Emperor's will. For a new Chapter, safeguarding and cultivating this genetic legacy will be your greatest responsibility—and your biggest challenges."

Kayvaan absorbed the information silently, but Jacob wasn't finished. "That's not the only challenge you'll face, either."

"Oh?" Kayvaan prompted.