He walked up and down impatiently while the machines adjusted the drone. Russ carried a long spear in his hand that he twirled as he paced. Not that spear; that leaned against the wall, spectating. The part of Russ that hearkened to the Imperial Truth felt a little foolish bringing it there to see. The larger part, the Fenrisian native, felt the heavy hand of wyrd guiding him. If he examined his actions via that mode of thought, he hadn't brought the spear to watch; it had demanded to come. He had not chosen to practise with a similar weapon; something from outside had made him.

He spat on the ground, as much to clear his throat as ward off maleficarum. Or so he told himself.

He had been exercising for two hours. Fragments of his earlier foes remained on the sand. He had barely broken a sweat.

'I've warmed my muscles, machine!' he called. 'I'm ready for you!' Indicator lumens flickered inside the armour shell, making its innards glow.

Russ grunted a low, canine laugh, and readied himself for battle.

A crackle of vox preceded a machine's announcement.

<Combat Drone prepared. In-loading bespoke training programme, author Leman Russ, Sixth primarch. Failsafes zero. Killing strength active. Combat parameters unbound. Activating.>

The drone jerked as its reactor came online and flooded its motors with energy. It rose up as hydraulics pressurised and muscle bundles contracted. Its activation was clumsy, the rattling awakening of a broken-down machine. Then a shudder passed through it, and it transformed. Servos whined and clicked as it tested its weapons. Its engines purred. It became steady, radiating threat.

Russ smiled.

The machine moved. There was a moment of lumbering, ungainly acceleration that turned to fluid danger. It charged for the primarch. No hesitation. There was no weighing of an opponent that a living being might make. The machine could learn nothing from watching the primarch. It knew everything already.

Its torso pivoted, left arm raised. Orange, yellow and black blurred as it swung the fist at Russ.

Using the spear as a pole, Russ vaulted over the back of the giant servitor. Its fist connected solidly with the ground Russ had been occupying. The sand absorbed the impact. The machine pulled back, leaving a crater in the floor.