Iron Flame (Chapter 13)
STATS
Title: Iron Flame
Series: The Empyrean (Book 2)
Author(s): Rebecca Yarros
Genre: Fantasy (Epic)
First Printing: November 2023
Publisher: Red Tower Books
Rating: 1/10
SPOILER WARNING
Heavy spoilers will be provided for the entire story up through the end of the content covered in this part. Mild spoilers for elements later in the story may be provided, but I will keep the first paragraph of each section as spoiler-free as possible. Heavy spoilers from later in the book will be confined to clearly labelled sections.
STORY
As punishment for Violet failing to bring Andarna to flight exercises, Draconis commands Violet to practice her Signet to the point of burnout. When he eventually dismisses her, Tairn takes her to the river below Basgiath and dunks her in the waters to cool off. Rebel children come to help her back up to the Quadrant, and Violet reflects on the fact that Draconis might kill her the next time he punishes her.
A week passes. Violet watches Sloane get brutally beaten during a practice sparring match. Realizing that Sloane is so unprepared for combat that the upcoming sparring test could get her killed, Violet resolves to help Sloane.
Violet chats with her squad mates about classes. She nearly cuts Ridoc’s throat by accident when he startles her and she lashes out. Violet and her squad mates are then grabbed and drugged by bagmen as they enter a stairwell.
PLOT
Rebellion Plot
The scene with Draconis Umbridge is framed as a battle of wills, with Violet holding the line to defend Andarna and other hatchlings from the riders. I can’t fully delve into why this doesn’t work until we start the discussion of dragon versus rider agency, which is down below. Suffice it to say that this rings hollow because of the conflicting information regarding that issue.
Yet More Incompetence
During the battle of wills, there is a line here that hammers in the incompetence of the leadership in Chapter 4.
“She can take it just fine.” [Draconis] looks at me like he knows. Like he was there at Resson, watching me hurl bolt after bolt at the wyvern.
So … either Yarros is telling us that the rider leadership DID have people monitoring the battle in the climax of Fourth Wing, and yet they were unprepared for Xaden and his cohort to return to the Quadrant, or she is calling attention to the fact that they could and should have had people monitoring the battle.
For those of you who have read Iron Flame to the end - yes, I am aware that the twist in Chapter 60 potentially alters the context of this statement. However, that is Chapter 60. Literally two thirds of this book happens between this line and the twist that might explain it. That leaves this plot hole unresolved throughout the remainder of Part One, wherein the rider leadership are supposed to be the main antagonists. Additionally, that twist reveal is such a can of worms that associating it with Draconis opens up even more plot holes.
(Plus, given how Yarros goes out of her way to bludgeon all subtlety out of her text, I’m not inclined to assume that this explanation applies to Draconis. If it did apply, surely Violet would have jumped to that conclusion and spelled it out for the audience.)
Assassination Classroom
While watching Sloane, Violet chats with Imogen, and we get this nugget of information.
I’m the only one in our group who hasn’t had another attempt made on their life.
Let’s set aside for a moment the fact that, if the rider leadership is this desperate to tie up loose ends with lethal force, they could have and should have dealt with those loose ends in Chapter 4. Why hasn’t Violet had another attempt on her life? She should be the easiest to eliminate. I mean this quite literally, in that her size and EDS should make her easier to kill in melee than any of the rebel children, but there’s also the cover-up to consider. This series has established that plenty of people would want Violet dead as a means to lash out at her mother. Fewer eyebrows would be raised at multiple assassins throwing themselves at her than at any of the rebel children. On top of that, given that she spends so much time with rebel children, there’s a chance of at least killing one of them if they should try to intervene on Violet’s behalf.
The easy explanation for this is that rider leadership doesn’t want to risk the deaths of Tairn and Sgaeyl … but then why was Violet targeted by the first assassin?
Helping Sloane
Violet’s resolution to help Sloane is going to be very, VERY important in Chapter 16. Believe me, we will dig into that next week.
In isolation, I think there is potential in having Violet serve as a mentor and protector to someone who doesn’t like her. There’s rich opportunity for character conflict. This could also serve as a source of growth for Violet. Last year, she was on the opposite end of this dynamic with Dain. Perhaps we will get to see her gain an appreciate for Dain’s perspective and come to view the events of the previous year in a different light. Alternatively, she could gradually earn Sloane’s trust and find reconciliation.
Or maybe Yarros will squander this on hypocrisy and hand-waving. I guess we’ll just have to see which she chooses.
CHARACTERS
Violet
A trait that is established for Violet in this chapters is that she has incredible reflexes … until the plot needs for her not to.
Here is what triggers her to nearly cut Ridoc’s throat.
“Hey, Vi -” A hand curls over the top of my shoulder from behind me, and my head surges, beating painfully in my ears.
Not again.
Muscle memory takes over as I spin around, dislodging the grip, and push my left forearm against a leather-clad chest catching the assailant off-balance and allowing me to shove him the few inches backward into the wall while whipping my dagger to his tattooed throat in one instinctual motion.
A friend, speaking in a positive tone, engaging in a gesture of familiarity that has not been established as abnormal (and, if previous group hugs are any indication, should probably be normal), triggers an instantaneous response. Not only that, but despite acting on instinct, Violet’s mind works so fast that she can consciously process detailed choreography and details of the person she is attacking.
I strongly suspect that Yarros has zero background in martial arts. While I cannot speak for everyone else who has had martial arts training, I have, on two occasions, struck someone with a closed fist after they startled me from behind. Much like Violet in this scene, I was operating purely on muscle memory. If I had been as clear-headed as her during these split-second reactions, I would have been able to reel myself in and prevent one of those two strikes from landing. If Violet had actually been caught up in the moment, as I was, she would have slashed open Ridoc’s throat in the same instant that she registered who he was, her mind moving slow for her to consciously stop her muscles from finishing the maneuver. At best, she would have slashed him open when he “throws his hands up” to beg for his life, with her hair-trigger muscle memory reacting to what would appear to be an attempt to resist her with physical force.
Setting aside personal experience, what we see here is clear indication that Violet is both on-edge and fully prepared to defend herself when triggered. As a result, the fact that she gets grabbed by the bagmen is a plot hole.
“Now!” someone shouts from behind us.
Before I can react, a bag is thrown over my head, and with one breath, I’m unconscious.
A stranger, speaking with obvious excitement or aggression, speaks up. Violet is able to process the direction the shout is coming from. Yet, despite the fact that this should have been every bit as triggering as what Ridoc did, despite the fact that the bagmen are at least as far from her as Ridoc was, Violet is unable to react. Saying, “Before I can react,” after what Violet demonstrated earlier in this same chapter, is not an explanation. What that phrase really means is, “Because the author said so.”
Bagmen
What sort of incompetent bagmen loudly announce themselves when attacking a group of people? Why not coordinate via hand signals or merely execute a well-rehearsed attack plan?
For that matter, why would they strike in a stairwell, a narrow environment which simultaneously forces their targets to move in single file while denying the bagmen any concealing position that would allow them to hit the entire line at once from the side? They would lose the element of surprise immediately after hitting either the front or back of the line, and thereafter would need to fight to take down the rest.
It’s almost like these bagmen represent a faction that is devoid of all credibility due to multiple instances of past incompetence.
Draconis Umbridge
The scene wherein Draconis punishes Violet feels like an over-the-top, scene-chewing derivative of Dolores Umbridge forcing Harry Potter to write lines with the blood quill. Unlike the scene it is imitating, there is no character development here. The scene with Dolores Umbridge gave us a glimpse into the extreme methods she is willing to use to achieve her objectives. All the scene with Draconis Umbridge tells us is that he’s not bothered by offending or harming dragons, which is something that was already demonstrated when Solas immolated multiple riders who were mere bystanders.
Draconis’s intimidation factor is limited by him allowing Violet to talk back to him in this scene. Why did he not condemn her to the brig for insubordination? We are told, in this scene, that forcing Violet to the point of burnout is an alternative to the brig. The fact that he allows her to lecture him (about dragon agency, no less) makes him seem ineffective and limp.
Carr
Carr is one of the Good Teachers at the school. He is clearly afraid of Draconis Umbridge, yet stands up for Violet to end her punishment.
At least, one would presume that he is one of the Good Teachers. His standing up for Violet aligns well with the other acts of rebellion that we see from the Good Teachers throughout the story. However, Yarros doesn’t like him.
“You are a rare, powerful Signet, Cadet Sorrengail. It would be a travesty to use your training sessions in this manner again.”
I’m not a Signet. I’m a person. But I’m too damned hot, too tired to make the words form. Not that it matters - he doesn’t see me that way. Carr never has. To him, we are the sum of our powers and nothing more.
This is not a plot hole or character assassination, as was the case with Markham. Carr’s limited presence in the previous book aligns with this analysis. It’s just that this feels very heavy-handed. Violet is making a harsh judgment of Carr just for doing his job. It’s almost like Yarros wants him to be a Bad Teacher and is going out of her way to reinforce that so that the audience won’t be confused by his decision to stand up for Violet here.
Eya
Eya is among the rebel children who comes to help Violet after the burnout. She says interchangeable lines of dialogue that tell us nothing about her character.
WORLDBUILDING
Signet Limitations
In Fourth Wing, we were told that Violet’s limit before burnout is six strikes. Here, we are told that she gets to “around strike forty”. We also get a line from Carr where he says, “I’ve never seen her produce more than twenty-six strikes in an hour,” which implies that she did indeed demonstrate that many strikes in Fourth Wing (as we have yet to be shown her training with Carr in Iron Flame).
It got hard to keep track of just how many bolts Violet threw in the climax of Fourth Wing. My rough count (based upon the number of times the words “lightning” or “bolt” were used, plus any additional strikes that were explicitly counted or mentioned in the narrative) was fourteen. She was also close to burnout at the end of the climax. This means that either:
Violet doubled her capacity in the few weeks that passed between the climax of Fourth Wing and some off-screen training session with Carr in this book.
Violet did indeed have the ability to throw twenty-six bolts by the climax of Fourth Wing, throwing more bolts than were explicitly stated on the page, and thus had quadrupled her capacity in the month between her first tests with Carr and the climax of Fourth Wing.
This is either a plot hole or absolutely bonkers power scaling.
What Do I Do With My Hands?
Where does Violet’s lightning come from?
This may sound like an odd question, but the text has been inconsistent about this. Usually, is describes the lightning as coming from the sky. However, with how Violet is frequently described as throwing out her hands towards her target, any time that we aren’t explicitly told about lightning from the sky ends up reading like she is shooting it from her hands (much like when firebenders generate lightning in ATLA).
Violet is later going to have … well, not an arc … a minor stumbling block over needing to shoot the lightning from her hands instead of the sky. This would seem to confirm that her hands aren’t involved with her magic at present, so what is the purpose of throwing her hands towards her target? The lightning is coming from a completely different direction, and it’s not like she’s conducting an entire storm as one would a symphony. At least when we see other hand movements in the magic system (snapping fingers to turn on magic lights, waving hands over locks to disable wards, etc.), there’s some logical connection. Is she shooting an invisible laser of positively charged particles at her target to draw the lightning to it?
Burnout
The symptoms of Violet’s burnout - namely, the fact that using her Signet raises her body temperature - make sense. However, given what is described in this chapter, she should be dead.
The Math
We are told two explicit details about burnout:
The heat that accumulates from her using her Signet starts in her bones and radiates outwards.
The skin across her entire body is burned by the experience, with the damage being severe enough that her skin is still red and tender after nearly a week.
The temperatures at which human tissues burn and organs fail depend on a wide variety of factors, which we don’t have adequate information here to fully analyze. However, what we have is enough to confirm that Violet should have died.
A fever of about 40 degrees Celsius (104 degrees Fahrenheit) can induce organ failure if emergency medical attention is not received.
Skin can suffer scald burns from hot water (the closest analog I could think of for Violet’s condition) at about 49 degrees Celsius (120 degrees Fahrenheit).
Violet burned from the inside out. That means that her bones, her blood, the nerves along her bones, her muscles, and any organ adjacent to her bones (which include all of the vital ones) had to heat past lethal temperatures before her skin started to take damage. She should have collapsed and died before Draconis Umbridge dismissed her.
The Treatment
A workaround to this problem would be that it’s a magical effect. Perhaps the heat inside Violet was all in her head. Perhaps that damage to her skin was due to magic burning its way back into her body, without heating up the surrounding tissues (or some other such esoteric explanation).
Except - no. Tairn treats Violet with purely physical means. He dunks her in an icy river to lower her body temperature. Since water had not been indicated to have any special properties within the magic system, that means that the heat was literal thermal energy that needed to physically transfer out of her body to cool her off.
Not only does Violet not die from literally cooking beyond the limits of human tolerance, but she also doesn’t require medical attention afterwards. She is able to walk (climb, really) “up hundreds of stairs” to return to her room, where she just sleeps off the trauma.
There’s also the small matter that the polar plunge would likely have caused even more damage. Ice baths to reduce inflammation are all well and good, but using them to rapidly drop body temperature causes shock, nerve damage, and other unpleasantness. Also, we are explicitly told that Tairn holds Violet in the river until her bones cool down. That means that at least her skin, her blood, her muscles, and her nerves along her bones would need to drop to a significantly lower temperature than her bones in order to siphon of the heat. This would probably induce hypothermia, especially as her organs would also be rapidly cooled.
Why It Matters
Describing fantastical elements in comprehendible real-world terms is a double-edged sword. Yes, describing details like bones being on fire or skin literally burning is evocative, but the flip side of this is that you are telling your audience to expect real-world consequences.
A good example of this would be The Rings of Power. We are shown a volcano erupting in a pyroclastic explosion that engulfs a village in superheated ash … and most of the people in that village, including all but but a couple of the named characters, survived. The imagery evokes the destruction of Pompeii and other real-world disasters, providing a strong dramatic moment, yet none of the consequences were present. It made the moment feel hollow.
Yarros could have easily sidestepped this whole mess by just not having Violet’s skin literally burn. The raising of her body temperature was already a dire threat. The fire in her bones could be taken as metaphor. By establishing that Violet literally cooked from the inside out, Yarros established a situation so lethal that it becomes very silly in hindsight. How are we supposed to take the threat burnout seriously, take the threat that “Varrish’s second punishment might just kill” Violet, if Violet can survive temperatures that would kill normal humans without so much as a medical checkup afterwards?
School Curriculum
This is technically a problem that existed since Fourth Wing, but it was a line in this chapter of Iron Flame that really brought it into focus.
I might lead our year in history, geography, and every other subject that crosses over with the scribes, but physics? Not my specialty.
What, exactly, is the curriculum of the Riders Quadrant, and why are those classes included?
Between Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, the following classes have been established, nearly all of which Violet has been confirmed or implied to be taking as part of her second-year course load.
Biology (which we haven’t seen Violet attend since Threshing, and since it isn’t mentioned in Iron Flame, may have been dropped)
Physics
Mathematics
History
Geography
Battle Brief
Unnamed combat training class
Unnamed physical fitness class (includes the Gauntlet, may have been dropped after bonding with a dragon or may be the same thing as the combat training class)
Unnamed flight training exercises (assigned after bonding with a dragon)
Rider Survival Course (2nd year, possibly 3rd year)
Signet training (assigned once a Signet manifests)
This is a dizzyingly bloated schedule - not necessarily unworkable, just difficult to shoulder - but that’s not the real problem here. The problem is that the first five entries are of such limited relevance to the Quadrant that they could easily be cut or else combined with other classes. For example:
Biology is only really necessary in so far as riders needing to understand dragon and gryphon biology for fulfill their duties. Since dragons look after themselves and seem more than capable of fighting gryphons themselves, this is only really useful for preparing students for Threshing.
The only use we are shown for both Physics and Mathematics is the calculations for running landings. This is something that could easily be folded into a couple of classroom sessions for the flight training exercises (not to mention that it isn’t something the riders have the tools to calculate while in the air, anyway, so they’re just going to have to make judgments by eyeballing the terrain and working off practical experience).
History makes some sense as a tool of indoctrination, to ensure that all riders are marching in step with the party line, but its practical applications to military strategy could easily be absorbed into Battle Brief (which has already been demonstrated as, and will continue to be demonstrated as, a propaganda exercise in and of itself).
Geography should be folded into the RSC.
I can’t help but notice that these extraneous classes are also the same classes that would exist on a real-world university. This is not surprising, given how much else about modern American universities was copy pasted into this world. The issue, as always, is context.
Modern American universities have such a diverse curriculum (and, more specifically, such a diverse list of required credits needed for graduation) because of multiple factors, which include, but are not limited to:
A university may pride itself on producing students with a well-rounded skill set (thereby requiring liberal arts students to hit a minimum level in STEM classes, STEM majors to take classes in literature and art history, etc.). I had to take no fewer than four liberal arts classes before my university would allow me to graduate from the engineering college.
While I’ve yet to see a university admit this, diverse prerequisites allow the universities to charge students for classes that they would not otherwise take.
A university may have a strong cultural identity that is considered an integral part of its education experience. My brother, who also graduated from an engineering college, had to take at least one class in theology, as said college was in a university run by Augustinians.
None of these factors apply to the Quadrant. The riders are not acquiring marketable degrees for a diverse job market; they are training for a lifetime within a crucial yet limited niche of a massive war machine. No reference has been made to the riders paying for either education or the gear they are requisitioning for their custom uniforms. The culture of the Quadrant actually doubles down on the strangeness of the curriculum, as only the classes in the bottom half of the list overlap with said culture.
I could see these real-world subjects in the first year of a rider’s training. It could be a way to lay a foundation for mission-critical skill sets. However, by second year, time and energy would need to go towards the skills that would be applied on a regular basis.
All this is to say that the curriculum of this school is yet another worldbuilding element that Yarros copy-pasted without much thought or understanding, thereby damaging immersion in the world.
PROSE
“She can take it just fine.” He looks at me like he knows. Like he was there at Resson, watching me hurl bolt after bolt at the wyvern. If he’s the picture of control, then maybe I should be glad I don’t have any.
What does that last sentence even mean?
Is Yarros trying to handwave one of Violet’s flaws by associating a virtue with evil? Because it sure does sound like Violet is saying, “Oh, the bad man has a virtue that I don’t, so the virtue must be bad.”
If that’s not Yarros’s intent, then what was she going for?
DRAGONS VERSUS RIDERS - A DISCUSSION OF AGENCY
With the content of the chapter itself out of the way, let’s get into the meat of the matter. It’s time to sink our teeth into the contradictory presentation of agency in the relationship between dragons and riders.
Why It Matters
At the risk of testing everyone’s patience, let me lay out, for hopefully the last time, why this is such a critical issue.
Stakes
To fully immerse oneself into the drama of a story, the reader needs to be able to understand what is and isn’t possible. The rules of the world, the nature of problems, and any limitations that dictate the viable solutions to those problems need to be understood.
In stories set within the real world in modern times, establishing this information is easy. The audience will typically understand at least the fundamentals of the rules, problems, and limitations. At most, they will merely need a few lines of exposition to fill in gaps in their understanding.
However, sometimes the familiar rules do not apply. A story can take place in a different time period, be set an unfamiliar setting or environment, or feature elements that either operate on principles that are either fantastical or simply use science that the average viewer wouldn’t be aware of. With each of these steps away from the real world, more rules need to be clearly outlined to the audience.
We often hear this brought up in terms of magic systems, yet it is equally true for factions. The audience needs to understand whom the main factions within the story are, what the limits of their power and authority are, and why a faction may or may not have interest in a plot development. These elements inform us as to whether a given faction might contribute to the plot at any given point. They tell us whether we can expect problems to arise or problems to be resolved.
How does this apply to agency?
If two factions have a power dynamic, that dynamic will dictate when one of those factions might assert itself the change the trajectory of the plot and when that same faction might prevent the other from making its own changes. If the audience has a clear understanding of when and how one faction might assert itself over the other, it will allow us to understand when genuine stakes exist, versus when we can expect a faction to step in and instantly erase a problem (or make it insurmountably worse).
Investment
Building an audience’s investment in an antagonist is every bit as important as building investment in a protagonists. This is often referred to by the adage, “A hero is only as good as her villain.”
To be clear, the type of investment needed for an antagonist does not need to be the same as the protagonist. In many aspects, it is the opposite. We don’t need to relate to the antagonist, want to see the antagonist succeed, want good things for the antagonist, or otherwise have a positive association with said antagonist. Rather, we need a face to associate with the enemy (unless that enemy is meant to be presented as a force of nature) and the ability to take that enemy seriously. In other words, we need reason to fear and / or hate the enemy.
Agency, both at an individual level and in terms of power dynamics, is an important part of this equation. Understanding what an antagonist will (or can) allows us to properly grasp the scale and nature of the threat this antagonist poses. For a hypothetical example, let’s take a heist story where the antagonist is a detective working for the local police department, tasked with tracking down our criminal protagonists in the wake of a successful robbery.
If this antagonist purely acts within the bounds of the law, with no ill intent towards the protagonists, our investment in the conflict will lean more on our support for the protagonist than our opposition to the antagonist.
If this antagonist abuses his position as a means to harm the protagonist or bystanders, then it will inspire righteous anger against him, as we know that he is failing to live by the obligations of his position and / or abusing his position to excuse himself of wrongdoing (the "I'm just following orders" excuse).
If this antagonist is malicious or overzealous, but is actively shackled by the law, then we can celebrate when the protagonist leverages the law to defeat him. We can also get invested in secondary protagonists (the main protagonist's lawyer, etc.) who are dedicated to hobbling the antagonist's efforts via legal means.
If this antagonist was shackled by the law, but chooses to go outside of it as part of his efforts take down the protagonist, then we are given a reason to fear him. We now know that the final line of defense against him is no longer viable.
If this antagonist enforces the law without compassion or any care for the protagonist's actual innocence or guilt, he becomes something akin to a force of nature, a relentless threat who cannot be reasoned with.
The long and short of it is that, by understanding the limits placed upon an antagonist’s ability to oppose the protagonist, we can more fully invest ourselves in the struggle between the two.
Confusion
What happens when an antagonist’s agency is muddled, whether due to not being clear in the first place or being presented in contradictory ways?
Well, we’ve already had an example of this - the inquisitors from Notorious Sorcerer. I won’t rehash my entire analysis of their worldbuilding (see Part 4 of my review of that book for that). Here, I’ll just say that the novel failed to clearly express who the inquisitors were and why they did what did. The dynamic between the inquisitors, the prefect of Bezim, and the economy of Bezim was not properly explained. We weren’t told their ideology or what role they served outside of prosecuting alchemists. Their chosen methods directly contradicted both their mission statement and the one hypothetical restriction on their power. It was therefore impossible to get a fix on just how much agency they actually had. They were always as powerful or limited as the author needed to be in that moment. That artificiality made it hard to understand the stakes in any given moment or to get invested in the conflicts when the inquisitors were involved.
The Point
I feel like agency is one of those aspects of character writing that develops naturally, rather than being something a writer can plan for in advance. However, it is something that becomes apparent when the material is read. It cannot be neglected, and it should be corrected as necessary during the editing process.
It is not an issue to have antagonists who are limited. Limits breed creativity and help the audience to get a grasp upon what is and isn’t possible. What is an issue is what those limits are vague or contradictory. We need at least a general but consistent idea how much agency an antagonist has if we are to appreciate the protagonist’s struggle against said antagonist.
RIDERS AND DRAGONS
With the groundwork laid, let’s take a look as the issue of dragon versus rider agency within Fourth Wing and Iron Flame.
Status Quo
One of the first things we learn, starting from the opening chapters of Fourth Wing, is that dragons possess all of the agency in the dragon-rider dynamic. This idea propagated throughout that book and into Iron Flame.
We are told how the existence of Navarre is defined by their cooperation with the dragons.
We are told how riders are disposable, and how the lethal conditions within the Riders Quadrant are to appease the dragons' demand for strong riders, as dragons find the loss of a rider to be embarrassing.
We are shown how the demanding standards of the dragons have produced a culture that disdains physical weakness, and we are told how riders are encouraged to marry young to pass down strong bloodlines.
We are shown how the social dynamics of the riders are dictated by the power of their dragons.
We are shown that the power of a dragon influences the rider's rank, both through the social dynamics of the dragons and through the power of the Signet that the dragon imparts upon the rider.
We are given multiple lines about dragons not making mistakes or dragons giving their own orders.
All of the dragons supporting the Aretia rebels are indicated to be willing participants in the rebellion. In fact, given that Sgaeyl told Xaden about the daggers in the first place, it's implied that she at least gave him a push to start the smuggling operation, rather than needing to be persuaded.
At least twice in this book, we are explicitly told that the intervention of Navarre in the venin crisis is dictated by the decisions of the dragons.
The epigraph of Chapter 19, which is credited to Kaori (whom, as established in Fourth Wing, is someone we are supposed to find credible when it comes to dragons), reads, “Dragons do not answer to the whims of men.”
Despite this, Yarros tries to present the rider leadership as a threat to the dragons. This manifests in the many heavy-handed efforts to make Violet seem like a protector of Andarna and other dragon hatchlings. We are told that the dragons need to hide the secrets of their hatchlings so as to protect them from exploitation by human riders. Andarna being smuggled back into the Basgiath hatching grounds in Chapter 3 is presented as a mission of grave importance. Draconis’s efforts to see Andarna are framed as if he is planning to molest her.
The contradiction here is glaring. How can any human threaten the dragon hatchlings? The dragons can monitor their bonded riders and kill those who even THINK of exploiting a hatchling. As for individuals who aren’t already riders, how are they supposed to get into the inaccessible nesting ground guarded by dragons? The framing of events seems to indicate that not even bonded riders are allowed in there.
This pretense of conflict is particularly hollow when one considers Andarna. As we covered in the Fourth Wing review, despite dragons not watching their hatchlings and adolescents to bond, Andarna apparently had a right to attend both Presentation and Threshing. This group that supposedly fears humans has codified traditions that allow foolish hatchlings to wave off responsible adults and put themselves within the reach of humans. These traditions send the message that dragons are so far above humans that they can barely conceive the possibility that a rider or unbonded cadet would dare harm their offspring.
Taking Umbridge (Heavy Spoilers)
Draconis Umbridge takes this already muddled situation and makes it far, far worse.
The reason he punishes Violet in this chapter is because she failed to get Andarna to answer his summons to appear for flight exercises. He is giving orders to a dragon through the dragon's rider. When he doesn't get what he wants, he resorts to what is effectively torture of the rider to spur the dragon into compliance.
Why doesn’t the Empyrean execute him for this? This is such an obvious means to undermine and challenge their authority. If they allow Draconis to get away with this, what is to stop any member of the rider leadership from ordering any dragon to do anything by torturing the rider?
What's more, Draconis makes no secret about viewing himself as a master over the dragons. In Chapter 29, he's going to deliver this banger to Kaori.
“Some of us do not bow to the whims of our dragons. In fact, we influence them.”
Why would the Empyrean tolerate an individual like this? If he says it to another professor, the professor's dragon will know (not to mention the dragons of any cadets who are present, like our POV character), so it's not even like this is a secret between him and his dragon. Why do individual dragons not make an example of him?
As I'm sure you've all come to expect by now, Yarros's attempts to patch this makes the situation even worse.
Tairn’s chest rumbles in a low growl as he stands behind me, his claws digging into the bare rock of the mountaintop. There’s only so much he can do, though. While he’s bound by the Empyrean, I have to follow the rules of the quadrant or risk the brig—and I’d rather bring down a thousand lightning strikes than spend one night locked ina cage at Varrish’s mercy.
In other words, the Empyrean forbids bonded dragons from interfering with the legal authority of rider leadership. This contradicts multiple plot points and events.
Why could Draconis not search Tairn, or any dragon associated with the rebel child, for contraband? Failure to comply could be seen as interfering in an investigation sanctioned by the rider leadership.
How are rebel children allowed to violate Addendums 5.2 & 5.3? Every dragon bonded to one of these riders is flouting the authority of the rider leadership by the mere act of allowing their riders to assemble.
Even if the dragons bonded to rebel children could condone the Addendum 5.2 & 5.3 violations, how are they allowed to actively undermine the rider leadership by aiding in the smuggling of weapons, which the rider leadership actively needs, to the rider leadership’s enemies?
Does this not mean that Draconis does indeed have the authority to force Andarna to appear at flight exercises, since her failure to appear is an act of defiance against his authority (one that could only be balanced out by telling him her situation, so withholding said explanation from him is also an act of interference that compromises his ability to do his job)?
In Chapter 8, Tairn interfered in the post-Parapet culling of deserters by threatening Draconis's dragon - thereby undermining Draconis's authority, since Draconis was allowing Solas to do this.
In Chapter 19, Tairn will directly interfere in Draconis trying to punish Violet. He seizes Solas by the throat and threatens to kill Solas (and thus Draconis) unless Draconis falls on his knees and apologies for Violet for trying to summon Andarna. This event directly contradicts the justification for Tairn not intervening in this chapter, especially since he faces no consequences for it.
Given the amount of Codex-related legalism whipped around in this book, I'm sure there is a mind-numbing snarl of precedents and regulations to explain these contradictions. The problem is that Yarros, who seems allergic to subtlety, who has characters quoting detailed regulations to each other, chose not to provide that explanation. This does not seem like a rare moment of restraint on her part. It instead come across as though Yarros genuinely did not consider these issues (or doesn’t think her audience will notice them).
Further compounding this problem is that it calls into question why the dragons would ever consent to the military command structure of humans. Why are the dragons not the ones with military ranks? As mentioned above, the abuse of power that Varrish is attempting exploits a blatantly obvious loophole in the system. One rider simply cannot give orders to another rider unless the subordinate rider’s dragon consents to following that order. Binding dragons to their command structure while letting the humans dictate rank puts powerful dragons at the mercy of far weaker and less experienced ones. If the dragons are going to bind themselves to a military hierarchy, why are THEY not the ones in control of the hierarchy?
War
This brings us to the absolute mess that is the venin conflict. I think this ... explanation ... from Chapter 7 sums up the problems quite well.
“Fewer dragons are bonding,” I say toward Tairn, knowing Andarna drifted into the Dreamless Sleep a few days ago. “Is that because the Empyrean knows about the venin?”
“Yes.” I can almost hear the exasperated sigh in Tairn’s voice.
“But we need more riders. Not fewer.” It doesn’t make sense.
“The Empyrean remains divided on whether or not we should get involved,” Tairn grumbles. “Humans aren’t the only ones keeping secrets.”
But Andarna and Tairn have already made their choice—of that, I’m sure.
Here, we get explicit acknowledgement that the dragons are the ones with the actual agency. They are not only allowing the rider leadership to suppress the information about the venin but actively undermining the military buildup needed to combat the venin problem.
Not explicit enough? All right. How about Yarros spells it out for us?
In Chapter 36, Xaden is going to try to persuade a group of riders to join the Aretia rebels. Both his arguments and the framing of the scene present this as a dramatic and life-altering choice for the riders. However, about halfway through, he delivers a line that destroys the scene and the entire premise of the rider leadership as antagonists.
"If your dragon has chosen not to share what some have seen, then your choice has been made for you.”
In other words, "Your agency only matters until your dragon says otherwise."
None of this human conflict matters. Ultimately, it is the dragons who decide what their riders do. Any and all efforts to tell the audience otherwise is a waste of our time.
We're going to come back to this specific point in Chapter 64. There's going to be a reveal about Codagh, Melgren's dragon, that really highlights the sheer stupidity of the human conflict.
Distorted Binary
Further aggravating this mess is that Yarros tries to use dragon agency to categorize riders along a moral binary. Violet and Xaden are virtuous for loudly proclaiming that dragons are above humanity. Draconis (and another character, as we will see on Chapter 60) is evil for imposing human will upon the dragons. The unbonded cadets who broke into Violet's room in the last book deserved to die because their actions implied that dragons could make mistakes.
This is another fine concept. The problem is that Yarros doesn't follow through on this. It's not a thematic conflict that drives the narrative. It's mere virtue signalling (albeit of an in-world variety).
Absence of Character
On top of all of the above, the question of draconic agency is muddled by the characterization of the dragons - or, rather, the lack thereof.
Many months ago, I saw a Twitter post the praised Fourth Wing for presenting dragons as characters, not glorified horses. This post presents the exact opposite of the reality. Dragons in this series are absolutely no better than horses. (Specifically, they’re dogs. I’ve heard secondhand that Tairn is based off of a bulldog Yarros owned.) It's just that some of these animals get to voice an opinion once in a while.
Because Yarros created a rule that dragons won't communicate with any humans except their riders or mate's riders, the vast majority of dragons in this book do not get to develop as characters. Every member of the bloated mob of shallow, human tertiary characters gets more characterization than every dragon except Tairn, Andarna, and Sgaeyl. Every other dragon is described in an animalistic manner, with no hint of greater intelligence outside of what their riders relay.
This isn't a problem on its own. However, in a book where dragon agency is not only supposed to be a major driving factor but is also actively called into question and challenged, the deficit of dragon characters is damning. Maybe, if we had a larger cast of dragon characters, we could rationalize WHY the dragons condemn, enforce, or condone the things that they do as a matter of characterization. Without those characters, it becomes a matter of, "Because the author said so."
The Bottom Line
Having the dragons be the puppet masters behind all of Navarre’s decisions is fine.
Having the rider leadership be an active threat to their dragon allies is fine.
A complex situation each side influences some influence over the other is fine.
Blatantly contradictory information about the agency each side has, which is then applied to drive the plot forward and make hollow thematic stands, is not fine. It is incompetent at best and lazy at worst. It makes it impossible to understand what is and isn’t possible in the story. I find myself constantly questioning how Draconis Umbridge can even exist, let alone be a threat to Violet. I keep expecting a dragon to sweep in and immolate him at any moment. How is anyone supposed to take a battle of wills between protagonist and antagonist seriously when the antagonist’s position should surely be an instant death sentence for him?
This confusion has made the Rebellion plot as artificial as the A Plot of Notorious Sorcerer, thereby making Part One of this book a slog to get through.
ABSOLUTION AND HYPOCRISY
Next time we will read Chapters 14 through 17. These chapters were … disappointing. Infuriating, plot-breaking, and character-assassinating, too, but mostly disappointing.
Yarros had two opportunities for phenomenal character work in these chapters. She could have explored (or simply acknowledged) Violet’s flaws. She could have had Violet grow and develop by learning hard lessons. These opportunities didn’t just exist at a conceptual level, either - the groundwork was laid. Violet walked right into the traps. Yarros was poised to deliver character development that could begin to redeem Violet as a character.
Then she chose to absolve Violet of any wrongdoing in the first instance and actively validate her hypocrisy in the second. If I had any doubt about Violet being a self-insert Mary Sue before these chapters, those doubts were wrung out of me by the end of these chapters. There is no other reason to go this deep into potential character development and then bail out right when the character’s flaws would need to be acknowledged.
We’ll get into it on March 8th. I look forward to seeing you all then. Have a great week.
