The Court of the Blind King – David Guymer

The Idoneth make their Black Library novel debut with David Guymer’s The Court of the Blind King, a tale of power, privilege and intrigue amongst the dysfunctional aelven families of the Deepkin. After the death of his mother, the spoiled and sheltered Prince Lurien naturally assumes that the throne of Briomdar will be his…right up until it’s taken from him. Escaping Briomdar with the unlikely assistance of a manipulative, ambitious namarti named Namaríel, he sets out in search of allies from distant enclaves, determined to take back what was his by right. To the isolated, suspicious Idoneth, however, Lurien is young and untested, and any offers of alliance come with steep prices.

An apt subtitle for this novel might be The Labours of Lurien, though unlike Hercules this particular hero (of sorts) has rather fewer than twelve tasks to complete. After his initial shock at being betrayed, ousted, rescued and set on an unfamiliar path, he and Namaríel make his case for alliance to the lords and ladies of one dubious enclave after another, each of whom charges him with a seemingly impossible task in return for their pledge. It’s a smart way for Guymer to examine the aquatic realms of the Idoneth (not to mention a few interesting land-based locations), the murky waters of their twisted political alliances, and the sinister realities of life for these sensation-starved aelves. There’s a lot of unfamiliar terminology in use, which rewards at least a loose awareness of the complex Idoneth backstory and culture, but it’s consistently enjoyable to explore the wild variety of this fascinating race and its underwater environs.

And then there’s Lurien, a character who begins the story with almost no redeeming qualities and who has to rely heavily on Namaríel to even survive, but who gradually (really gradually) begins to empathise with others and see his position – even the philosophy of his whole race – in a new light. He’s not the most sympathetic of characters, but through his interactions with Namaríel and others he grows to become engaging and even, at times, relatable – certainly the way he acts out of spite and a determination to take what he’s owed simply because it was taken from him is something that most of us can relate to at least a little (whether we want to admit it or not). The supporting cast of aelves (and occasional sylvaneth) are – unsurprisingly – not really any more sympathetic, but it’s strangely satisfying to see their devious maneuvering and watch their bitter, selfish worldview take shape.

Individual scenes can be a little hard to follow at times, but that’s made up for by an overarching plot that’s entertaining, character-driven, and full of opportunities to learn about hitherto-uncharted locations, flora and fauna of the Mortal Realms [my favourite being a passing reference to a squigray!]. It’s all wonderfully atmospheric, helped by Guymer’s consistent use of tidal metaphors which underpin so much of Idoneth life (loyalty included), and scattered, cleverly-adapted references harking back to the pre-Age of Sigmar roots of the aelves (back when they were just elves). If you can, check out the short story The Learning first for a quick Deepkin primer and some background to an interesting character who shows up here as well – but it’s not essential. As a standalone exploration of the Idoneth way of life and how their history and environment has fundamentally shaped their character, this novel is genuinely excellent – just don’t necessarily expect to come away actually liking many of them.

Check out the main Age of Sigmar reviews page on Track of Words.

Click this link to order The Court of the Blind King, or this one for the audiobook edition.