Training Rhianna

For this to work, two conditions had to be met: sustainability and quality. A strong influx of recruits would bolster the battle group, but attrition was inevitable. Soldiers would die, ranks would thin, and the cycle of war would continue. Without a steady pipeline of warriors, any force—no matter how powerful—would wither away. Every campaign needed a replenishment strategy. It wasn't practical to expect reinforcements to simply fall from the sky. 

Kayvaan's goal was clear: turn Eridani IV into an elite recruitment world. To achieve this, he would proceed on two fronts. The first step was to subjugate the Holy See. That part would be simple. Marius, as both a priest and a powerful psyker, was well-versed in religious doctrine and theological manipulation. His early contact with the Ecclesiarchy's leadership had already laid the foundation for an alliance. It would not take much—an occasional display of force, a few well-placed gifts, and the Church would fall in line.

The second step was to establish a legendary military order. A warrior brotherhood, separate from the Ecclesiarchy, yet powerful enough to act as both an extension of Kayvaan's influence and a counterweight to the Holy See. More than just a fighting force, this order would become a living myth—its stories woven into bardic tales, its champions idolized by the people. By doing so, he would shift the planet's culture itself. The young men inducted into the Order would serve as a feeder pool for the Knights Templar. The women, in turn, would form the Blue Knights, managing planetary affairs and ensuring the continuity of the system. 

A self-sustaining system. This was all still a blueprint in Kayvaan's mind, yet already, the first steps had been taken. Rhianna had proven to be a promising student. At eighteen, she was still highly adaptable, absorbing techniques like a sponge. In just a month of rigorous training, she had become competent with a longsword—still flawed in form, still vulnerable in defense, but vastly improved from the street thief she had once been.

Kayvaan deflected her latest strike with a casual flick of his blade. "Not bad," he remarked, stepping lightly to the side. "Your form has improved. You can finally use a longsword properly."

Rhianna grinned, pivoting into another attack. "So does that mean training is over?"

Kayvaan's sword swept outward, catching her blade at an angle. At the same time, his weapon twisted just slightly, the impact sending a sharp shock through Rhianna's wrist. Her grip failed. The longsword spun from her hands, flipping end over end before clattering to the ground. Kayvaan smirked. "Not quite."

Rhianna shook out her wrist, scowling. "That was a cheap trick."

"That was technique," Kayvaan corrected. "And you'd better start paying attention, because your final test is coming."

Rhianna frowned. "Final test?"

Kayvaan stabbed his sword into the dirt, leaning against the hilt. "You've made good progress, but now comes the real challenge. The most important trial of your life." His expression darkened slightly. "If you pass, you'll become a legend. If you fail, you die."

Rhianna's brow furrowed. "That's… a hell of a test."

Kayvaan smirked. "Hope the Emperor blesses you."

Rhianna scoffed. "Oh, sure. And does He bless people like me?" She launched into another attack, swinging with wild enthusiasm. Training was the only time she could lash out at Kayvaan without restraint, and even though she had never once landed a hit, there was satisfaction in trying.

Kayvaan met her strike effortlessly, deflecting it with minimal movement. His sword tilted, and once again, it struck Rhianna's wrist—not enough to injure, but enough to numb. Rhianna's grip failed again. Her sword tumbled from her grasp.

Kayvaan chuckled. "The Emperor usually only blesses those who work hard enough."

Rhianna exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. "I have worked hard enough," she argued. "This last month has been the hardest I've ever trained. I've used up all my strength—probably years of it."

Kayvaan shrugged. "Not my problem. I'm not the one who'll be testing you."

Rhianna froze. A strange chill ran down her spine. "Wait—"

Kayvaan turned, pulling his sword free from the ground. "By now, the Executioner is almost here." He slid the blade into its scabbard. "Kill him and survive. That's your test."

Rhianna paled. "What?"

Kayvaan continued walking, speaking over his shoulder. "Your only path forward is to kill the man sent to end you."

Rhianna's mind spun. "Hold on—you said passing this test would make me a legend. What does that even mean?"

Kayvaan didn't slow. "You'll understand when you survive."

Then, before Rhianna could protest further, he was gone—vanishing into the forest like a ghost. Rhianna stood there, staring after him, heart pounding. She clenched her fists. Then, slowly, she turned and walked back to the camp. She knelt in front of the fire, closed her eyes, and exhaled.

Kayvaan's training had drilled this into her—empty the mind, steady the breath, listen. No thinking. Just feeling. She focused on the wind as it brushed against her skin, feeling its subtle shifts in direction. The leaves rustling in the trees. The distant call of night creatures. And somewhere, out there in the darkness—her executioner was coming. She wasn't ready. Not yet. but she would be.

For three days, Rhianna remained kneeling by the fire. She ate only enough to sustain herself, rising occasionally to stretch her numb legs. The posture was unfamiliar, but she endured it. The campfire never went out—there was no shortage of wood. Food supplies were sufficient, and a clear stream ran nearby, providing an ample source of drinking water. There was nothing else to do but wait. And on the third day, her patience bore fruit.

The Executioner, Youlun, finally stepped into the firelight, standing across from Rhianna, his shadow stretching long in the flickering glow. Hidden in the darkness, Kayvaan smiled to himself. He had spent the past month training Rhianna in combat—nothing more. This strategy, this tactic of endurance and patience, had been entirely her own. And it was the right choice. Before the fight had even begun, she had already forced Youlun into a losing position.

A killer's greatest strength was their ability to strike from the shadows, to slip past defenses unseen, to deliver death when their target least expected it. The very essence of assassination was surprise. History had seen small, unassuming men slay great warriors through sheer cunning, slipping a blade between their ribs before they even realized they were in danger. But now, Youlun stood in the open. Visible. Exposed. Rhianna had stripped him of his advantage.