A bitter cold wind howled across the barren waste of the Deadlands, carrying the acrid stench of blood and soot that still lingered from the battle at Oakhaven. Atop a jagged crag, three figures stood looking down into the dark valley before them. At the bottom of the valley loomed a colossal fortress resembling a black steel monster—Fortress Ironclad, the Sovereign Concord's mightiest stronghold in the southern frontier.Garrick Ironwill adjusted his ancient mechanical arm, which hummed softly. The war veteran's single eye narrowed, scanning the fortress structure encircled by a man-made magma moat and three layers of purplish magical barriers."Fortress Ironclad lies ahead, Alden," Garrick said in his deep, gravelly voice. "The walls are forged from meteoritic steel alloy and powered by five subterranean Aetherial Veins. Grand General Vaelor isn't some mediocre officer like Valthor or Zephyrus. He is a cold-blooded tactician commanding the entire defense of this sacrificial fortress