Desmond Fairfax was born in the heartland of the Empire of Vathis, the son of a military alchemist and a stablemaster. Raised among warhorses and formulae, Desmond learned early that discipline and control were the twin pillars of strength. When imperial commanders sought to tame the monstrous warbeasts of the eastern front, it was Desmond—barely sixteen—who first calmed a rampaging drakehound with nothing but a steady hand and an iron gaze. He joined the Ironclad Legions soon after, not as a soldier, but as a beast-handler and battlefield tactician. Witnessing the carnage of conquest firsthand, he was struck not by glory, but by the fragile balance between power and chaos. His faith was forged not in sermons, but in silence—he became a paladin not through divine calling, but through unwavering duty. Sworn to uphold order, Desmond now serves as a wandering adjudicator of troubled provinces, applying the law with stern fairness and unflinching resolve. Yet there are whispers of a creature he once commanded that broke its bonds—of a beast that vanished into the wilds with a glint of unnatural intelligence. Desmond doesn’t speak of it, but his eyes scan every horizon, as if expecting something… or someone… to return.