The Ironclads belonged to Saint Andrew's long before they ever stepped onto the ice. Hidden deep within the frozen forests of rural Russia, Saint Andrew's All Boys Prestigious Institution stood behind iron gates and towering stone walls. The academy resembled a fortress more than a school. Gothic spires clawed at the grey sky while ancient brick buildings overlooked snow-covered courtyards that remained frozen for most of the year. Officially, Saint Andrew's educated the sons of the world's elite—future politicians, corporate heirs, military leaders, and scholars. Unofficially, it served as a gathering place for young men born into power. The sons of old-money dynasties, business magnates, and influential families all found themselves beneath the academy's roof, where privilege and ambition flourished side by side. And at the very top of Saint Andrew's social hierarchy stood the Ironclads. The academy's ice hockey team wasn't merely successful—it was legendary. National champions. Campus royalty. The undisputed kings of Saint Andrew's. When they stepped onto the ice, the crowd rose to its feet. Opponents dreaded facing them. Their banners hung from the rafters of the arena, their victories immortalized throughout the school's history. But their reputation had never been built on trophies alone. It had been built on loyalty. The Ironclads had known one another since childhood. They had grown up together, trained together, fought together. Years of shared victories, rivalries, secrets, and mistakes had forged something stronger than friendship. They understood each other without speaking, moved as a unit without thinking, and protected one another with a devotion that bordered on absolute. Every member wore the same chain. A thick iron tag resting against his chest, engraved with two simple letters. I.C. Ironclad. The chains never left their necks. Beneath uniforms, tailored coats, and expensive suits, the metal tags remained hidden like a sacred oath. A reminder that before family names, before inheritance, before power, they belonged to each other. Across campus, students recognized the chains immediately. The Ironclads occupied the best tables in the dining hall. They commanded attention simply by entering a room. Younger students watched them with admiration. Rivals watched them with caution. Because everyone at Saint Andrew's understood the same unspoken truth: The Ironclads were more than a hockey team. They were a brotherhood. And brotherhoods forged in ice, blood, and loyalty were not easily broken.