Starting today, and over the coming six months, I’ll be publishing accurate reviews of all the Birthright novels, one per month: I’m just eking them out to indulge somewhat longer in my favorite AD&D setting, as I have already written all of the reviews.
They’ll appear on this blog in publication order: 1) The Iron Throne (April); 2) Greatheart (May); 3) War (June); 4) The Hag’s Contract (July); 5) The Spider’s Test (August); 6) The Falcon and the Wolf (September).
For a D&D novel – that is, a novel set in a Dungeons & Dragons setting and written for the (A)D&D enthusiasts – «The Iron Throne» by Simon Hawke (1995), first in a loose series of six, is a masterwork, as not only does it condense all the Birthright lore that matters in a single book but it also catches perfectly the scope of the setting: that is, not the personal struggles of an individual who will be gone and forgotten in a few decades but his concerns over the land, the kingdom, the domain; in other words, all the tangible things that last for centuries and are a character’s real legacy. The novel does this eminently well, by showing the struggle of Michael Roele, the last Anuirean emperor, to both keep the crumbling empire united and strengthen it, until the events force his hand and set the stage for the unavoidable disaster.
Nonetheless, as a whole, the novel isn’t as great as it sounds: on the contrary, it’s terribly long and boring, a slog where nothing happens for dozens of pages in a row, and often drags even for whole chapters, filled with personal drama and zero progression of the actual story, which instead is both what really matters and what drew the reader – likely a Birthright player, one interested in all things Birthright – to this book in the first place.
Actually, the author’s concern is not the story as much as the annoying vicissitudes of a handful of lackluster characters and their flattish development: but character development only matters when you, the reader, care for the characters, which doesn’t happen in this novel.
Two hits and a miss
The most you can ask of a novel set in a game…well, setting is to be entertaining: it has to include elements from both the ruleset and the lore in some form, and to feature characters a reader would recognize and like, if not even fall in love with. «The Iron Throne» has all of this, to some extent: on the one hand, as already stated above, it details the most relevant pieces of Birthright lore straight from the core rulebook, such as Deismar and its outcomes, the Shadow World and its denizens, the mention of several recognizable domains you can point to on the map, the stretched relationships between the races, especially elves (one of the reasons why I love Birthright so much is because the annoying elves are the setting’s villains), and even the battle of Sorrow Field; that is, the source of the core rulebook’s beautiful cover illustration by Tony Szczudlo. On the other hand, it mentions things and mechanisms that are shamelessly translated from the rules, such as the use of blood abilities (in one instance, Roele’s abilities are even listed by name as if on a character sheet) and their practical effects on the field.
So far so good.
Where it fails miserably though is the third requisite: the characters.
Birthright is a setting unlike any other: it needs characters of course but only to be consumed as an expendable resource, an asset, as its real focus sits in the domains and their management. So the most successful character in a Birthright novel with such a grand scope as this is one that stands in the background, one that holds up the story and advances it without being too prominent; that is, without taking center stage. Which is exactly how Michael Roele is depicted in this book: he’s pivotal to the plot of course but he’s never the focus of any chapter, as his actions are always told from another character’s standpoint, usually that of the weak and annoying Aedan Dosiere (another recognizable reference for the hardcore Birthright fans), who’s the nominal protagonist and the point of view of most of the plot.
And in the end this is what dooms the novel.
A weak main character
Aedan Dosiere is the by-the-book definition of a lawful neutral character: he always does what is due, never what he wants to. Since he isn’t the swellest guy around but his first advisor, he plays the voice of reason, the guy whose job is to worry for his employer because «the emperor has neither time nor the inclination» to do it, as Aedan states mid-book in an attempt at gaining the sympathy of the elf he wants to bed.
He’s as exciting as a bureaucrat can be: and who can root for a bookkeeper in a fantasy novel, let alone identify with a political figure who in the best of cases is the second in command?
Moreover, he comes out as a weak and boring character, very unheroically burdened with doubts, insecurities, worries (it is his job, remember?), which in turn fill his chapters with endless introspections, grim ruminations and ever new things of secondary relevance that might matter for character development – there’s no doubt he changes for the best over the years – but, again, character development only matters when you care for that character. And, no matter how hard you try it, you couldn’t care less for Aedan the loser.
And, just to put it blunt, in every other instance character development in this novel is just pointless, a chore on the reader who only wants to find out how the story progresses, because – again – it is the land, the domains, the empire what really matters to Birthright, hence to the Birthright fan.
Too long, too boring
The problem is, all this character development translates into a huge book of five hundred pages, as it requires several pages of nothingness just to set a scene, or advance the (personal) story by just a small step: hence, the novel is slow, boring and, more often than not, annoying. I’ve been tempted more than once to give up on reading, because when reading a book I look for action, a fast story that advances quickly and only focuses on the important things, that it also has to deal with quickly.
Even reduced by half, this novel would still be way too long: and this tells a lot about how much «noise», that is superfluous parts, it is stuffed with.
Which is one of the ailments of contemporary fiction, that year after year has inflated the page count in return for…worse stories, and boring novels. Compare this book, or any other book published in the last decades, with a fantasy – that is, sword and sorcery – novel of the Sixties or Seventies: which one flows smoother? Which one has the most compelling plot? Which one has that frantic pace that makes you wish to read just another chapter? Sure, the characters might be two-dimensional at best and the event resolution somewhat simplistic but it’s fantasy we’re talking here, a world where magic exists and characters face threats so frightful that nobody would retain his sanity in front of them, so one cannot exactly invoke realism or verisimilitude to say that the more recent novels develop their plots better.
Come back after reading «The Hag’s Contract» by John Betancourt, the fourth and best book in this series, and then ask yourself which one is better, the novel at hand or that other novel, and you’ll realize at once why the latter is so much more enjoyable.
I’m of the opinion that a good story always trumps a full-fledged character, however «good» he is, as it is the story that lures you into reading a book in the first place and then keeps it going, no matter how three-dimensional and realistic and whatever the protagonist may be. Be sincere with yourself: if the story is entertaining, you keep reading the book; if it is not, sooner or later you’ll be tempted to drop the book. But you cannot say the same for just a character, because even a strong, believable character in a weak story won’t save that novel: he’s just a missed opportunity.
The cast of characters
Talking of the characters, there’s a succinct cast besides Aedan, who’s the main character although not the real protagonist. And, besides Aedan, only two of them can claim the right to shape the story: the young emperor Michael Roele, who’s just twelve years old when first introduced, thirteen when he takes on the regency and about twenty-five when he meets his doom; and his seven-years older sister Laera, the firstborn child of the old and dying emperor Hadrian, who had seven daughters before Michael was born, but there aren’t seven husbands to match them with.
Actually, there’s only one, who’s more of a puppet in Laera’s hands.
Michael is the real protagonist: he’s shown an inspirational leader, one who leads by example, stands in front of his troops in battle and shares their discomforts and sufferings. From a commoner’s perspective, it’s easy to root for such an emperor, and even follow him blindly into the Shadow World to speed their marches. In the first eight years of his reign Michael only thinks to quell Boeruine’s and the Western Coast’s rebellion whereas, after pacifying the rebel duchies, in the next four or five his only concern is to expand and strengthen the empire’s borders: hence, Aedan and his wife devise his wedding in order to slow him down. And this wedding is what unintentionally will take down the empire in a matter of months, because of the machinations of Laera’s foolishness, who holds herself in too high regard than deserved.
Hence, Laera, Michael’s sister, is the third character who’s relevant to the novel: in game terms, she’s neutral evil, which helps outline her better than any other description. Consumed by insatiable ambition, she fancies herself a peerless schemer and, although she’s competent – actually, shameless – in plotting and scheming and then disposing of her pawns, she hasn’t the skills to be a major player, not even by far: simply, she benefits from being the emperor’s daughter and, even more so, a very beautiful and deceiving woman who fits the words of that renowned Rigoletto’s aria like a glove (ironically, that canzone is sung by the duke of Mantua, whereas Laera…plays the duke of Boeruine like a fiddle).
She resents Aedan, whom she seduced in their youth, for having been dumped by him and because of that, and her boundless ambition, she sets the events into motion that will bring to the death of Michael’s young wife and, soon afterward, to the collapse of the empire as Michael, looking for revenge, will be brought down by the Gorgon as well, without leaving heirs, which is exactly what the core rulebook states.
Simply, in this novel we see how this happens and we are brought to feel sympathy for Michael’s tragic figure.
All the minor characters
The cast is then completed by a handful of minor characters, who all serve their role in the story but leave no real imprint in the big picture: first of all, Ariel, Aedan’s wife, who on the one hand loves him even though he loves another (an elf) and just arranges her own marriage to save both the empire and Aedan’s reputation; and who, on the other hand, is the one reponsible for advising Michael’s wedding, and finding him his literal soulmate wife. That is, Faelina (I understand that Anuirean urge for the «ae» diphthong but wasn’t there a less ludicrous name available?) of Aerenwe, the sixteen-year-old bumpkin wife of Michael, a tomboy who shares all of his passions, like riding, hawking, and hunting, and dies a horrible death just a few months after their wedding.
Then there are the elves Sylvanna and her mage brother Gylvain, as insufferable as only elves can be, who would be pretty irrelevant to the story if not for pulling Aedan’s chestnuts out of the fire in a couple of situations and, especially, for the short love story between Aedan and Sylvanna, which forces Ariel’s hand in proposing herself and opens up the final section of the novel. Their son – that is, Aedan’s and Sylvanna’s – will then appear as one of the main characters in «War».
Some words need also be spent for the comical duo made up by Arwyn, archduke of Boeruine, and Derwyn, his son: the former is the «capable warleader» who starts the rebellion and in eight years of war only manages to raze some corn fields in western Alamie (that is, Tuornen) out of spite, hence alienating a possible ally; the latter is his weak heir who, after having been pardoned by Michael, marries Laera to atone for his father’s guilts and, by falling in love with her, allows her to weave her schemes, Faelina’s death included. Derwyn will appear as the antagonist in «War» as well, where he’ll also fall for yet another scheming woman. He should have known better.
Finally, the multiclassed half-elf thief/witch Gella and the (half-halfling?) mage Callador also deserve a mention, as they are necessary to funnel the story towards its tragic final.
This is all this novel needs in terms of characters, and none of them is as deeply characterized as Michael or Laera, let alone Aedan: so much for a character-driven novel!
A tragic character bound for tragedy
It is customary for the imperial court to move to Seaharrow, capital of the archduchy of Boeruine, during the summer, to avoid the Imperial City of Anuire’s heat, which sits on the southern coast.
Even though he’s six year his senior, the eighteen-year-old Aedan Dosiere, son of Tieran Dosiere, chamberlain of the current Anuirean emperor, is required to babysit and play with the younger and wilder Michael, heir to the imperial throne: this is necessary to foster deeper trust and reciprocal knowledge between the two key figures that the empire will depend on in the near future.
While in Seaharrow, Aedan is seduced by Laera, oldest of Michael’s seven sisters: an affair ensues, that lasts several weeks and ends suddenly when one day Aedan dismisses Laera’s advances to chase the twelve-year-old Michael, who minutes before left the castle for a lonely ride. Shortly after, the both of them (that is, Aedan and Michael) are captured by a goblin patrol employed by the ambitious archduke of Boeruine, Arwyn, who, in case the old emperor and his heir died, would take advantage of the court residing in his castle to seize it and appoint himself as the regent.
Aedan and Michael are freed shortly after by an elven patrol and offered an alliance by the elven regent of Tuarhievel: meanwhile, the emperor dies and, since Michael is thought dead too, Arwyn advances his claim to the throne, which an hazardous move by Tieran Dosiere, who takes the royal family to Anuire in a matter of minutes right after the emperor’s death, negates.
One year later, Aedan and Michael return: Michael takes his place as the emperor and for seven years keeps fighting the rebels, until one day, after a disastrous campaign in the Shadow World, the Anuirean army is attacked by the army of Boeruine, which spoils Aedan’s wedding celebrations that same day.
In the battle that ensues, Arwyn is killed by Michael: this ends the battle at once and Michael, who’s a grown man now, and a very smart one, pardons all the rebels, starting with Arwyn’s son, his childhood friend Derwyn.
This ends the first part of the novel.
In the following four years the restless Michael keeps campaigning to both expand and secure the borders of the empire: at this point Ariel, now Aedan’s wife, suggests him to find the emperor a wife, which would relent his focus on endless battling. The chosen girl is the sixteen-year-old Faelina of Aerenwe, who shares Michael’s same hobbies and breaches his heart at first sight. Now, it has been decreed that this year the court will resume the old custom of passing the summers at Seaharrow: but there’s new troubles in sight.
In his repentance, Derwyn of Boeruine has married Laera, Michael’s oldest sister, who still broods revenge on Aedan for having been dismissed by him and plots her own taking of the imperial throne. So she doesn’t think twice when the mage Callador, formerly in the service of Arwyn, appears to her and proposes to teach her magic in return for a small service on behalf of his new employer, the Gorgon, the setting’s be-all and end-all villain.
Laera, who already spied on Michael on account of Arwyn during the rebellion, accepts, until the fateful day when she, through her servant Gella, spills a mysterious vial into Faelina’s drink that was given to her by the Gorgon himself, This potion impregnates Faelina at once with the Gorgon’s own son, that grows and ripens in mere hours, ripping his path out of the poor girl’s belly and causing her painful death.
Laera, discovered thanks to Gella’s confession, finally pays a life of dissolution and is killed by Ariel: but Michael, now a broken man, swears revenge. In the following months all of Anuire joins his punitive expedition to the Gorgon’s Crown where, at the climax of a huge battle, the Gorgon kills Michael but is denied bloodtheft when the emperor transfers his bloodline directly to the earth.
What comes next, the Birthright player already knows it, is the fall of the empire, which its lackluster sequel, «War», delays for way too long and then falls short of actually detailing.
The finale – which is the continuation of the prologue – shows an old Aedan who receives a visit by Gylvain the elf and, after a night of remembrance, finally dies of old age.
The poor man’s Game of Thrones
All in all, «The Iron Throne» is the poor man’s Game of Thrones: it features all the same elements as the unfinished work by George Martin but it stops way earlier, and at a lower level. The comparison is inevitable, since they both feature a big empire, powerful houses that enjoy fighting each other, backfiring schemes and rivalries that result in a rebellion, big battles and a dusting of supernatural – a bit of magic, that is – which moves the story from being an historical romance lookalike to the (low) fantasy territory disguised under a medievalistic look.
Nonetheless, «The Iron Throne» lacks the epic grandness of «A Song of Ice and Fire»: which doesn’t mean it’s bad per se, or a bad copy of that other work, because it stays true to its own scope, which is telling a compelling story set in a game world. This is also the real difference between them: this book is indissolubly tied to the Birthright RPG whereas Martin’s work is set in a bound-free fantasy world that he built up according to his own vision. Hence, «The Iron Throne» is first and foremost a promotional product that on the one hand has to follow the track of a setting that has already been drawn by others and, on the other, exploits a player’s addiction to a game to sell him more of the same but with a different sauce. And, from that perspective, it delivers what the reader expects: it’s an excellent game book, but it’s still just a game book.
I’ve read somewhere that Martin played Birthright the RPG and took inspiration from it to write his books: I don’t know how accurate that piece of information is and have no way to check it but, even if he did (and as a matter of fact there are shared elements between the two works), it’s also true that you don’t write «A Song of Ice and Fire» overnight and, rather, likely need months to sketch the plot and develop the ideas, which makes the theory unlikely, since the Birthright RPG handbooks, this novel, and book one in that other series were published just a few months from each other.
So, this is what I wished to state: despite the shared elements, «The Iron Throne» is not «A Song of Ice and Fire». But it both reaches its goal of telling a good and compelling story in the Birthright setting and also answers a handful of questions the more dedicated players might still have after reading the handbooks: and it would even be an outstanding read, if only it were way shorter, hence less boring.