“Destroyed!?” Jacob frowhinking for a moment. “I haven’t heard much about them tely, so it’s possible. But it’s more likely they’ve gone dark, dug some secret mission. It’s their style—keeping everything under s. To be ho, I ’t firm their status, but we could iigate their homend if this s you so much. Who told you they were destroyed?”

  “Inquisitor Elizabeth,” Kayvaan replied.

  Jacob scoffed. “Ah, the Inquisition. That expins it. Their word is always hard to trust. They’d rather see all Star Chapters destroyed to maintain their version of order. Did she say this during an inquiry?”

  Kayvaan nodded. “Not ht. But her words strongly implied it.”

  Jacob sighed. “Typical. The Inquisition thrives on half-truths and ambiguity. They create webs of doubt and fear, isoting and breaking dowargets. It’s a method desigo expose hidden weaknesses or deviations, and they apply it ruthlessly to anything or ahey ’t trol.” His tone hardened. “Given your uuation, it’s no surprise they’d single you out.”

  Kayvaan's expression darkened. "I was cursed, but that's all in the past," he said sharply, steering the versation away. "Let's talk about the Raven Guard."

  Jacob leaned back slightly, unfazed by the abrupt turn in the versation. "The Inquisition hasn’t fully cimed the Raven Guard is gone, but their silence raises questions. The truth is, we’ve had no tact with the Raven Guard since you woke up. No unication, s. Even the gene-seed we’ve been granted access to is stored material from Mars, likely turies old. These archives are reliable, but they ck the quality."

  "I get that," Kayvaan replied, frowning. "But here's what I don’t uand—why don’t people living on Terra have any real information about an active chapter? We ’t even firm if they’re still operational."

  Jacob didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tered with a question of his own. "Do you know how many active Space Marine Chapters the Imperium has right now?"

  "No idea," Kayvaan admitted.

  "In one of the official reports, the number of active Chapters was estimated to be between 989 and 1,021," Jacob expined. "But that’s just aimate. Even the Imperium itself doesn’t have a t. Space Marine Chapters are highly autonomous. Some are deployed on long-term missions, and others quietly establish successor Chapters. It happens more often than you’d think. bihat with the byrinth of bureaucracy, the rigid hierarchy, and the vast distances across the gaxy, and trag every Chapter bees almost impossible. If a Chapter doesn’t want to be found, they won’t be."

  Jacob leaned forward slightly, his tone more serious. "Chapters like the Raven Guard, who specialize in covert operations, are even harder to track. Even the Inquisition struggles to keep tabs on them. If a Chapter decided to rebel, the Imperium might not notitil the rebellion was already underway."

  "So, what’s the status of the Raven Guard?" Kayvaan pressed.

  Jacob shrugged. "No idea. If they’re not rep to the Imperium, the Imperium assumes they’re fihe surroundiors he Raven Guard’s territories are quiet, so there’s no immediate reason to iigate. If you want real answers, someone would have to travel there and check personally. But right now, there’s no pressing need for that."

  Kayvaan sighed, pushing the thought aside. There were more urgent matters at hand. His eyes turo the books before him, each outlining the strengths and weaknesses of different gene-seeds. The Ultramarines, with their baraits, were the ideal all-rounders—petent in every area but excelling in heir adaptability made them the bae of the Imperium’s Chapters, a reliable choiost missions. However, their approach required time—turies, in fact—to fully develop into a seasoned force. For someone like Kayvaan, waiting hundreds of years wasn’t an option.

  The Blood Angels, oher hand, were ferocious warriors with incredible power otlefield. But their berserker tendencies and the curse of the Bck Rage made them less suitable for smaller, tactical missions. Besides, their peculiarities weren’t something an outsider like Kayvaan could fully uand or trol.

  Kayvaan asked, "What does the Raven Guard’s gene-seed authorization provide for us?"

  Jaodded. "The Raven Guard’s gene-seed ensures recruits will i the geic modifications necessary to create warriors capable of their specialized tactics—stealth, precision, and adaptability. However, their gene-seed has been fragile sihe Heresy, and the success rate for impntation is lower than acies. Still, it’s a viable foundation for a Chapter like ours."

  Kayvaan thought for a moment. ons be repced. Ships be fed. Supplies always be requisitioned. But gene-seed? That’s irrepceable—the lifeblood of a Chapter.

  Jacob tinued, "When a veteran falls, his gene-seed is recovered by the Apothecaries. It’s critical to sustaining a Chapter’s numbers and ensuring its geic legadures. Every recruit who carries that gene-seed will i the biological enhas o uphold the Chapter’s traditions and bat doe. It’s a cycle—each geion building uporengths of the st. That’s what makes the gene pool invaluable."

  As long as the gene-seed remains pure and intact, the Chapter rebuild itself after losses. Even after devastatis, a Chapter recover over time, using its gene-seed as the foundation for a new geion of Space Marines. However, some Chapters, like the Raven Guard, faced catastrophic setbacks during the Horus Heresy. The losses at Istvaan V devastated their numbers and severely weakeheir gene-seed, leaving it proo instability.

  In trast, the Ultramarines’ gene-seed is renowned for its stability and reliability. This makes it a on foundation for successor Chapters, allowing them to produce banced and effective warriors. It’s no surprise that mahe Ultramarines as the standard for the Adeptus Astartes. “We’ll use the Raven Guard’s gene-seed and i their strength,” Kayvaan decred.

  “But the success rate of the operation…” someoated.

  “I’ve reviewed the data thhly,” Kayvaan interrupted. “I know how the Ravens hahings in the past. Their harsh training caused many unnecessary deaths, but we ge that. During training, we won’t push soldiers to the point of dying. For the surgeries, we’ll make adjustments to increase success rates—eliminating high-risk procedures and borrowing teiques from the Ultramarines where applicable.”

  “Wouldn’t that go against tradition?”

  “Tradition?” Kayvaan smiled faintly. “We’re not recreating the Raven Guard; we’re building somethiradition isn’t a .”

  Jaodded. “As you wish.”

  “Now, for the steps: We’ll o coordih the Ecclesiarchy to assign Chapins, arrange ons and equipment through the Munitorum, a suitable Captains and Navigators for our fleet. We also o involve the Meicus for tech-priests aors to aid in strug the fortress-monastery. There’s much tanize.”

  Setting up a neter in the remote Eastern Fringe, far from the Empire, was no easy task. Fortunately, Kayvaan had Jacob’s help. Uypical Space Marines, Kayvaan had a softer personality. He could smile warmly, speak kindly, and even pay small bribes when necessary to ease bureaucratic hurdles. Jacob, who observed these as, found it amusing. “An Astartes iating like a Munitorum clerk,” he often remarked. But Kayvaan’s methods worked. Within a month—a record time—the entire process was pleted.

  “The official reition of the Chapter has been issued,” Jacob said, presenting the scroll to Kayvaaepped back, dropped to one knee, and pced a fist over his chest. With solemn reverence, he recited an oath in High Gothic, pledging unwavering loyalty to the Chapter and the Emperor’s eternal service.

  Kayvaan raised his hand, mimig a ceremonial sword, and tapped Jacob’s shoulders. “Wele, my brother.” With this simple but solemure, the ceremony was plete. The Knights Tempr’s rrew from oo two.