Eridani IV

Kayvaan turned the spit slowly, watching the boar's golden skin glisten in the firelight. "I bought a complete set of seasonings. Supposedly, they're rare spices shipped from the Far East. I also gathered some herbs from the forest—helps remove the gamey taste."

Rhianna, still devouring her portion, froze mid-bite. She stared at him, eyes wide. "Wait—what? You mean to tell me that legendary spice you just casually sprinkled on this pig is real?"

Kayvaan smirked. "Of course. Otherwise, how would it taste this good? But they're just spices, nothing legendary. Mostly cumin, salt, cinnamon, and a few other things."

Rhianna gawked at him. "Do you have any idea how expensive those are? Those spices are worth their weight in gold! Even noble lords only use them for their most important feasts! And you just… dumped them on a wild boar?"

Kayvaan shrugged. "Didn't really check the price."

Rhianna groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Right. I forgot. You're the guy who trades diamonds like they're glass beads. It's a miracle you haven't been robbed yet."

In truth, many had tried. But every would-be thief who had set their sights on Kayvaan had quietly disappeared, their bodies left cooling in the shadows with their necks snapped clean. That, of course, had been Darius's doing. Kayvaan had deliberately allowed it—part test, part amusement. Darius, despite his towering stature, had never been fond of assassination techniques, yet he had learned them diligently. The results spoke for themselves. Any cutthroat who had harbored ill intent toward Kayvaan had been erased before they could even lift a blade.

Rhianna, blissfully unaware of this, had long since shifted her attention back to the food. She tore into her meal with a single-minded focus, savoring every bite. The combination of rich, seasoned meat and fine wine was a luxury she'd never even dared to dream of. Adventurers weren't rich. The only ones who stuck with this life were either desperate, reckless, or chasing the thrill. Most of them were poor. 

Even Rhianna, who had grown up in the slums before being taken in and trained by the Nighthawks, barely had enough to scrape by. The majority of her earnings went straight back to the organization, while the rest was used to maintain her gear. Wasting money on food? Unthinkable. Now, though? Now there was a feast in front of her, and she wasn't about to let it go to waste. Kayvaan watched her eat with mild amusement. "Didn't think you'd have the appetite."

Rhianna swallowed her bite before glancing at him. "What, you expected me to break down sobbing?"

Kayvaan raised an eyebrow. Rhianna sighed, shaking her head. "I'll admit, I was shocked at first. I never thought I'd meet someone as insane as you. Who hires the Executioner just to fight him?" She exhaled slowly. "But it's done. I know Fatty. He's the best fixer in the city. Even if he wanted to double-cross you, he'd still finish the job first. The contract is set—I'm the target now." She took another sip of wine. "So what am I supposed to do? Sit around and cry? That won't change a thing. Besides…" She shot Kayvaan a look. "I know you wouldn't waste your money on a lost cause. You're not that crazy."

Kayvaan smirked. "Do you actually think you'll survive?"

Rhianna shrugged. "Am I supposed to believe I'm going to die?"

Kayvaan chuckled. "Good answer." He stood, stretching. "Dawn's coming. We start training today."

Despite growing up in the slums, Rhianna had a strong nature. Her free-spirited personality made her adaptable, and once she accepted reality, she faced it head-on. Kayvaan set up camp outside Kronborg, using the location as a base. The training began immediately. He was a thorough teacher, and Rhianna was an even more determined student—because her life depended on it.

Deep down, she still believed she was going to die. But that didn't mean she wouldn't fight for every last breath. Even if it was just a chance, even if her odds were one in a thousand—she would take it. And Kayvaan was no mere sliver of hope. He was something more.

Not everyone agreed with Kayvaan's approach. "I don't understand why you're wasting your time on this," came Marius's voice through the communicator. The priest's tone was edged with disapproval. "You're squandering valuable time. I followed your orders," he continued. "We've infiltrated the upper ranks of the Holy See. Soon, their entire network will be ours. Warriors from across the sector will flock here. We'll have our pick of the best. The recruitment framework is nearly in place. Right now, you should be in Versegun, meeting with the bishops. We've only just established relations under the guise of divine envoys. Trust hasn't been fully secured—we need to strengthen our position."

Kayvaan leaned against a nearby tree, listening idly. "I know," he said. "But before anything else, I need to assess the warriors here firsthand."

Marius sighed. "You and Darius are more than capable of evaluating their strength from observation alone."

"That's the thing," Kayvaan countered. "Different planets, different cultures, different battle doctrines—there's always variation. I need to see firsthand what the baseline is. If I rely only on observation, I'll never get an objective measure."

Marius's tone grew sharper. "Even so, you should be training men. Women are irrelevant to our goals."

Kayvaan smirked. "Of course, I know that the Adeptus Astartes will never induct women. But the Legion needs subordinate organizations, doesn't it?"

Marius was silent for a moment. Then, grudgingly, he asked, "Are you planning to establish a local branch here?"

"More or less." Kayvaan glanced toward Rhianna, who was running drills under Darius's watchful eye. "Think of it as a long-term investment."

Marius's irritation was clear. "This is just a feudal world, Kayvaan. Spending too much time here is a waste of resources. You gain nothing by investing in a dead-end system."

Kayvaan chuckled. "Short-term losses for long-term stability. What we do now saves us headaches later. The foundation of a warband isn't built overnight."

Marius was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he relented. "…Fine. But remember this—you need to be in Versegun in three months. By then, warriors from all over the sector will be gathered. You must be there."

Kayvaan's gaze flickered to the horizon. The first rays of dawn were beginning to break through the treetops. "I know," he said. Everything has its purpose. Even waste, when properly recycled, retains value. A planet, then, is no different.

Eridani IV belonged to Kayvaan now, and he had every intention of making full use of it. From the moment he set foot on this feudal world, he had seen its potential—not as a mere domain, but as a proving ground, a recruitment forge. This planet would be his war camp, a perpetual crucible producing warriors fit for the front lines.