Discover the inspiration behind The Ravenglass Throne. Shaped by my experiences in academia and journalism, this story explores military, political, and academic power, disability representation, and the complexity of influence in a fantasy world.
Hello from Morecambe!
I wanted to take a moment to share why I wrote The Ravenglass Throne.
For me, this story started with a desire to see myself—and the complexities of power I’ve observed throughout my career—reflected in fantasy.
Having spent time in both academia and political journalism, I’ve seen how different types of authority clash, compete, and sometimes complement each other.
That experience shaped the three sisters at the heart of this story, each of whom represents a different approach to power: military, political, and scholarly.
Elana’s story, in particular, is personal.
Like her, I have a visual impairment, and it was important to me to write a character whose limited vision isn’t a tragedy or a superpower—it’s just part of who she is.
Fantasy often presents disability in extremes, but I wanted to show what it’s really like to navigate both physical spaces and political landscapes with partial sight while holding significant responsibility.
My love of fantasy is woven into this story.
The political intrigue of The Goblin Emperor, the aerial military action of Temeraire, and the character depth of The Farseer Trilogy were all influences.
But I also wanted to bring something new: a world where different kinds of power—academic, political, and military—don’t just exist side by side, but must work together.
Adelinde’s arc is shaped by my time in research.
Too often, fantasy treats scholars as side characters who exist to give information to the ‘real’ protagonists.
But research has its own kind of power, and I wanted to explore that—along with its limitations.
My background in journalism also played a role.
I’ve spent years studying how information flows through power structures, how narratives are shaped, and how decisions are influenced by competing interests.
That’s why the world of The Ravenglass Throne is filled with shifting alliances, misinformation, and political manoeuvring—because that’s how power really works.
At its heart, though, this story is about three sisters learning to value each other’s strengths.
The divisions between academic, military, and political power can seem insurmountable, but The Ravenglass Throne explores how different approaches don’t always have to compete—they can complement.
This is the story I wish I could have read earlier in my own journey.
If you’ve ever felt caught between different worlds—whether academic and practical, physical and political, or personal and professional—I hope you see a little of your own experience reflected here.
I’d love to hear what you think—what kind of power do you find most compelling in fantasy?
Let me know by dropping a comment over on Patreon, where I’m always happy to chat.
Explore how dark fantasy heroes are shaped by desperation rather than traditional bravery. Through characters like Soren in Guild of Assassins, these stories reveal the raw survival instinct that defines dark fantasy protagonists.
Traditional fantasy celebrates heroic courage, choosing to face danger for noble causes.
But dark fantasy understands that sometimes what looks like bravery is really desperation.
That choices made with knives at our throats aren’t really choices at all.
This distinction creates protagonists who feel real precisely because their actions stem from necessity rather than nobility.
Soren’s Journey in Guild of Assassins
My novel Guild of Assassins explores this tension through Soren’s journey.
His initial pursuit of his father’s killer might seem brave.
But it’s really grief and rage driving him forward.
When Raz offers him the choice between joining the guild or death, his “decision” isn’t courage but survival instinct.
Like the best dark fantasy protagonists, his path is shaped more by desperate circumstances than heroic choices.
Psychological Complexity Born from Desperation
This creates a fascinating psychological complexity.
When Soren enters the guild’s training, he’s not volunteering for hardship.
He’s accepting it because the alternatives are worse.
Each skill learned, each compromise made, comes from necessity rather than choice.
Yet somehow, real courage emerges through these desperate acts.
Training as a Test of Desperation
Consider the training sequences.
Soren doesn’t face Varus’s brutality or master Tamasin’s poisons because he’s brave.
He does so because he must to survive.
Yet in choosing to endure rather than break, in maintaining his friendship with Alaric despite pressure to compete, he displays a different kind of courage.
One born from desperation rather than virtue.
Desperation Masquerading as Bravery
The distinction becomes clearest during the Threshing.
Soren and Alaric’s decision to stand together might seem brave.
But it’s really about refusing to face their darkness alone.
Their loyalty comes not from nobility but from a desperate need for human connection in an inhuman situation.
Like the best dark fantasy, it shows how something like courage can emerge from primal necessity.
Human Nature and Desperate Choices
This reflects something true about human nature.
That our most profound choices often come not from heroic intention but from desperate circumstance.
When Soren kills during the Threshing, it’s not bravery driving his blade but raw survival instinct.
Yet his choice to retain some humanity through loyalty, to not completely surrender to savagery, is where real courage emerges.
The Guild’s Method: Desperation Over Bravery
The guild masters understand this distinction.
They don’t try to inspire bravery in their students.
They create desperation through systematic pressure.
Each brutal lesson, each impossible choice, forces recruits to act from necessity rather than virtue.
Like the best dark fantasy institutions, they recognise that desperation shapes more reliable tools than courage.
Relationships Driven by Desperation
Even relationships reflect this dynamic.
Soren and Alaric’s friendship endures not because they’re brave enough to maintain it.
But because they’re desperate enough to need it.
Their loyalty comes from recognising their mutual need for human connection to survive the guild’s corruption.
It’s necessity masquerading as choice.
Desperation Forging a Different Kind of Courage
Perhaps most interestingly, these stories show how desperation can forge something stronger than simple bravery.
Through enduring impossible situations, through making choices with no good options, characters develop a harder kind of courage.
One born from surviving rather than choosing danger.
The Threshing as a Test of Forced Courage
The Threshing sequence crystallises this theme.
Soren and Alaric don’t fight Kierak because they’re brave.
They fight because they have no choice.
Yet in choosing how they fight – standing together, maintaining some fragment of humanity – they display a courage that emerges from rather than precedes their desperate circumstances.
The Profound Truth About Human Nature
This reflects something profound about human nature.
That our finest moments often come not from choosing to be brave.
But from refusing to break when circumstances force us to be.
Through characters like Soren, we explore how courage can emerge from cornered animals rather than willing heroes.
Why Dark Fantasy Protagonists Feel More Real
Maybe this is why dark fantasy protagonists feel more real than traditional heroes.
Their actions stem from relatable desperation rather than aspirational bravery.
When Soren kills, when he compromises his principles, when he betrays his former self, we understand because we recognise how desperation can reshape anyone.
True Courage Emerging from Desperation
Yet these stories don’t completely dismiss true courage.
Rather, they show how it can emerge from desperate circumstances rather than preceding them.
Through Soren’s journey, we see how enduring desperate situations, making impossible choices, and refusing to completely surrender humanity can forge a different kind of bravery.
Chosen vs. Forced Courage
In the end, perhaps the real distinction isn’t between bravery and desperation, but between chosen and forced courage.
Dark fantasy recognises that sometimes the most profound acts of bravery come not from choosing to face danger.
But from how we face the dangers we never chose.
Your Thoughts on Bravery and Desperation in Dark Fantasy
How do you think desperation differs from bravery in dark fantasy?
What examples have most powerfully explored this distinction for you?
Discover why we’re drawn to morally ambiguous characters in dark fantasy. From anti-heroes to conflicted choices, explore how characters like Soren walk the line between hero and villain, reflecting our own struggles with right and wrong.
The most compelling characters aren’t those who walk in light or shadow.
They’re the ones who stride the razor’s edge between.
There’s something magnetically human about watching someone navigate that precarious balance.
Perhaps it’s because it reflects our own internal struggles with morality.
Soren’s Transformation in Guild of Assassins
My novel Guild of Assassins explores this tension through Soren’s transformation.
He begins with heroic motivation – seeking justice for his murdered father.
Yet his path leads him to become the very thing he initially opposed: an assassin, a killer, a dealer of death.
The fascinating part isn’t his corruption, but how understandable each step of his descent becomes.
They show us how good people become compromised through understandable choices.
When Soren learns to craft poisons from Tamasin or master manipulation from Elysia, he’s not cackling with evil glee.
He’s doing what survival demands, making choices we can imagine making ourselves under similar pressure.
Challenging Assumptions About Right and Wrong
The best morally ambiguous characters force us to question our own assumptions about right and wrong.
Consider how the guild masters are presented – not as cackling villains, but as professionals teaching their craft.
Varus’s brutality serves a purpose.
Quillon’s anatomical lessons have logic behind them.
Even their cruelty comes from conviction rather than malice.
Human Nature and the Perception of Evil
This complexity reflects something true about human nature – most “villains” don’t see themselves as evil.
The assassins’ guild has codes, traditions, and principles.
Like any real institution, it contains both honour and corruption.
Through Soren’s eyes, we’re forced to confront how systems can normalise darkness while maintaining a veneer of legitimacy.
The Appeal of Anti-Heroes
Perhaps this is why anti-heroes resonate so deeply.
They acknowledge the gap between societal ideals and survival’s demands.
When Soren participates in the Threshing, he’s not embracing evil but accepting that survival sometimes requires terrible choices.
Like the best morally conflicted characters, he shows us how circumstance can make monsters of anyone.
Exploring Darker Impulses Through Characters
The psychological appeal goes deeper.
Characters who walk the line between hero and villain give us permission to explore our own darker impulses from a safe distance.
Through Soren, we can examine our capacity for violence, our potential for moral compromise, and our ability to justify increasingly questionable choices.
The Corrupting Nature of Training
This is particularly powerful in training sequences.
Each lesson Soren learns carries both empowerment and corruption.
We feel satisfaction when he masters new skills, even while recognising that each capability gained represents another step away from innocence.
Like watching a car crash in slow motion, we’re both horrified and fascinated by the transformation.
The Complex Relationship Between Soren and Alaric
The relationship between Soren and Alaric adds another layer to this moral ambiguity.
Their loyalty to each other is admirable, yet it also enables their descent into darkness.
Are they preserving each other’s humanity or helping each other lose it?
The answer isn’t clear because real relationships rarely have simple moral implications.
Navigating Impossible Choices
Maybe we’re drawn to these characters because they reflect a fundamental truth.
Morality isn’t about maintaining perfect virtue but about navigating impossible choices.
When Soren finally confronts Kierak, neither is purely hero nor villain.
They’re both products of the same brutal system, each fighting for survival.
The Power of Relatable Conflicts
This moral complexity creates better conflicts precisely because it makes them relatable.
We understand both sides, even if we don’t agree with them.
The tension comes not from wondering if good will triumph over evil, but from watching characters struggle with choices that have no clear right answer.
Characters as Reflections of Ourselves
Ultimately, characters who walk the line between hero and villain captivate us because they show us ourselves.
Their struggles with right and wrong mirror our own daily moral negotiations.
Their compromises feel familiar.
Their corruption becomes understandable, even as we hope we’d choose differently.
Light and Shadow in Everyone
These characters remind us that the capacity for both light and shadow exists in everyone.
Through them, we explore how circumstance shapes morality.
How survival demands compromise.
How good intentions can pave roads to darkness.
They show us not just what we might become, but how we might become it.
Why We Return to Morally Complex Characters
Perhaps this is why we return to these stories again and again.
Not for escapism, but for truth.
Characters like Soren remind us that the line between hero and villain isn’t fixed but fluid.
Morality is a choice we make daily.
We’re all capable of both light and shadow.
Your Thoughts
What morally complex characters have most resonated with you?
How do you think they help us explore our own capacity for good and evil?
Explore the captivating world of character-driven high fantasy, from FitzChivalry to Cersei. Discover what makes these deep characters so enthralling.
In the realm of high fantasy, where worlds are as vast as they are fantastical, it’s not just the sprawling landscapes or the intricate magic systems that keep the pages turning.
Oh no. It’s the characters – those flawed, multifaceted beings who are as likely to stab you in the back as save the world.
It’s their journeys, struggles, and triumphs that truly enchant us, making character-driven high fantasy a banquet for the soul, albeit a sometimes bitter one.
Let’s face it: a good character can make us forgive even the most clichéd of plots.
They are the heart and soul of the story, turning a simple quest into a saga of epic proportions.
They bring the world to life, infusing the narrative with their ambitions, fears, and idiosyncrasies.
A well-crafted character is like a good friend – you’re invested in their journey, you celebrate their victories, and you might occasionally want to throttle them.
Take Robin Hobb‘s FitzChivalry Farseer, for example.
Here’s a chap who’s been through the wringer more times than a medieval laundry.
Bastard son, assassin, and a man constantly torn between duty and desire.
Fitz’s complex inner world is what draws us into his story, making us root for him despite his often questionable choices.
Love her or loathe her, Cersei’s ambition and cunning make her a character you can’t ignore.
She’s a masterclass in shades of grey – a woman trying to assert power in a man’s world, using every weapon in her arsenal, including her own children.
Then there’s Locke Lamora, the quick-witted, sharp-tongued protagonist of Scott Lynch’s “Gentleman Bastard” series.
A thief with a heart of gold (well, sometimes), Locke’s charm and cunning make him a hero you can’t help but cheer for, even as he’s picking your pocket.
What makes these characters so appealing?
They’re flawed, deeply human, and they often make a hash of things.
Their struggles resonate with us, their failures make them relatable, and their victories feel like our own.
In high fantasy, where the stakes are as high as the towers of Minas Tirith, these deeply drawn characters give us a grounding point – a human connection in a world of dragons and magic.
Character-driven stories in high fantasy are not just about the destination; they’re about the journey.
Watching a character evolve over time, overcome their demons, and maybe, just maybe, save the world in the process, is a compelling narrative force.
It’s the difference between reading a book and living it.
So, character-driven fantasy offers a rich tapestry of human experience, set against a backdrop of the extraordinary.
It’s a genre where you can explore the depths of the human heart, all while enjoying a good old-fashioned battle between good and evil.
So the next time you dive into a high fantasy novel, pay attention to the characters. They might just teach you a thing or two about life, love, and the proper way to wield a magic sword.
