So, as promised, I’m continuing my review series for Christopher Ruocchio’s Sun Eater saga. I zipped through the audiobook of book four, Kingdoms of Death, within the first half of October, and while the series is still going strong, this one didn’t leave as strong of an impression on me as the previous two entries. The story does well to further develop the overall Sun Eater universe, but I think the character work suffers a bit under the confines of the plot. Allow me to explain…
However, it's tough to discuss this one without digging into spoilers, so this is your warning.
Kingdoms of Death begins about 90 or so years after Demon in White. It makes a strong first impression as Hadrian and his Red Company find themselves on another mission battling against the alien Cielcin, including a particularly harrowing standoff with one of Prince Syriani Dorayaica’s White Hand—one of the prince’s chosen slaves. This is then juxtaposed brilliantly not long afterward with Hadrian’s return to quiet civilian life alongside his partner, Valka, as they are seemingly being kept in the dark by the Emperor. They’re not allowed to help, essentially, even as the war is taking turns for the worse, and it clearly weighs on Hadrian. He’s become a prisoner of his own status.
It doesn’t take long, though, for things to pick up again, as Hadrian and his compatriots are sent on a mission to the world of Padmurak, where they can hopefully forge an alliance between the Sollan Empire and the Lothrian Commonwealth. The human Lothrian society is unsettling, though; it’s the sort of dystopian society one might imagine if George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four were allowed to carry on into the far future. The people of the Commonwealth—as ruled by the Grand Conclave—are disallowed from establishing their own sense of individuality, to the point that they have a prescribed list of phrases and sentences they are allowed to speak.
Ruocchio explores and develops this world to great effect and in short order. From here, though, tensions quickly rise, as negotiations turn sour, and the Grand Conclave takes aim at Hadrian and his comrades. But what at first seems to be a simple dispute between the two human factions ultimately turns out to be an insidious double cross. The Conclave have already made a bargain of sorts with the Cielcin, trading their own people as livestock for the xenobites in order to maintain their society’s salvation and survival. It’s only too late that Hadrian learns this, and he is captured by another of Dorayaica’s White Hand and taken prisoner by the Cielcin.
In this way, Kingdom’s of Death then operates as a book of two halves. There’s everything that happens on Padmurak, and there’s everything that happens on the Cielcin worldship of Dharan-Tun, where Hadrian is held and tortured by Syriani Dorayaica for seven years. And make no mistake, Ruocchio does not hold back.
The direction the story goes in from here is, by all accounts, completely sensible. Hadrian has, for the most part, been at the top of his game so far in the series. It only makes sense to bring him to his lowest of lows, but even still, Ruocchio finds ways to go deeper than that. Hadrian effectively loses everything by the end of this one, and the weight of that is palpable throughout.
Kingdoms of Death also serves to further develop the world and culture of the Cielcin, with Hadrian learning much about his alien adversaries during his time on Dharan-Tun. Prince Syriani Dorayaica, who subsequently establishes itself as a great uniter and Prophet King of the Cielcin, is determined to wipe out humanity in the name of the Cielcin gods known as the Watchers. The Watchers essentially want to darken the universe, as they exist in opposition to the mysterious Quiet, who have been guiding Hadrian for much of his journey. And beyond those tidbits, we also get to see just how vile the Cielcin really are, as their world is essentially poisonous outside of the domed cities, and corpses, human slaves, and bloody murals can be found in abundance.
But while the worldbuilding and tonal consistency are the greatest strengths of Kingdoms of Death, and Ruocchio’s prose is as strong as ever, all of this does sadly come at the cost of the stronger character work we’ve seen in the previous books. Dorayaica is a fun villain, especially when the audiobook narration helps embellish the grandeur of the character, but he can be a bit one-note at times. Furthermore, Hadrian’s personal insights and reflections don’t feel as meaningful here, mainly because everything he has to reflect on isn’t as interesting as what’s come before.
I hate to oversimplify, but the literal plot, at least in the latter half of the novel, boils down to Hadrian being tortured and Dorayaica expositing its evil plan for universal annihilation in the name of its gods. Without much for the characters to do in the middle chunks of the story, the pacing tends to drag quite a bit—certainly more than it ever did in the previous books. Which is a shame, because there are definitely still some meaningful stakes present throughout, it just takes a little too long for any of them to pay off.
The final act of Kingdoms of Death attempts to pick things back up, as Hadrian’s allies launch a rescue mission. Sadly, all but Valka are lost in the process, and while most of the deaths hit home, I couldn’t help but feel like Ruocchio was thinning his herd of characters to make space for whatever comes next. Things like this left me with a hollow feeling throughout much of this novel.
Although, perhaps that was the point. In this way, we as readers/listeners are made to feel what Hadrian is feeling, which is a pretty effective method of drawing in the audience. There isn’t much to feel good about with this book, for better or worse, even when it does still manage to end on a bit more of an upbeat and hopeful note.
So, overall, while Ruocchio does continue the Sun Eater in flashy, murderous style with Kingdoms of Death, it stands out as a low point in the series for me. Even with the immersive grimdark tone and superb Cielcin deep-dive carrying much of the story, I felt there wasn’t enough storytelling substance to really hold my attention throughout. Granted, given what we now know, the stage is set for some truly explosive payoffs in the next book, Ashes of Man, so I can’t be too upset by any shortcomings here. I just have to hope things pick up again from here. I’ll be sure to let you all know how it goes in the next review.