Ironcrest, however, was another story. This was clearly a place that had been built for war and had seen more than its fair share in whatever long history hid behind its walls. Commanding the countryside from atop a low, sloping mountain, the city radiated downwards from the keep of Castle Greyvault in tiers. Each tier was surrounded by a set of curtain walls, each row of houses set higher than the last. Its walls, coloured tan, seemed to give it an earthen, almost birch-like appearance in comparison to its wintry surroundings, as if it were not a city built by hand at all, but had simply grown there, as natural and as ancient as any forest.