The training grounds of the Imperial Palace were packed with Astartes, specifically Astartes of the Imperial Fists. They were hard at work as sparks flew by slashes of steel against steel, the ground thumping by the clanking of boots, and the sky rang by the sound of bolter fire. Now, why all this training you ask? Well, above the training grounds, stood a figure, clad in gold, their piercing silver eyes scanning the men below. Well that's no other than Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists!

Dorn stood steadfast on the balcony, his eyes watching over his sons intently, as if waiting for one of them to make a mistake.