Review: The Trials of Empire
The Trials of Empire by Richard Swan
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Richard Swan’s The Trials of Empire opens with the world still in pieces, carrying us straight back into the ruins left behind in the last Empire of the Wolf book (The Tyranny of Faith). The empire barely holds together, and Vonvalt and his companions are left weaving their way through broken pacts, new threats, and a landscape that feels as if it might simply fall apart beneath them. We find ourselves watching them struggle to pull old friends back to the fold while a tide of fanaticism sweeps through, and all the while, ancient forces and secret schemes keep shifting the ground beneath their feet.
There is a weight to everything. The empire feels weary and battered, every corner marked by loss and exhaustion, and every moment is uncertain. I could sense the tension gradually tightening, as if the whole world might crack at any minute, and that feeling never really fades.
Swan brings out that atmosphere with care. There is a sense of a reckoning building, not rushed, but layered and patient. Sometimes I found it slowed, the story drawing out before the threads finally joined, but when they did, the result felt right. As an ending to the trilogy, it gathers up the strange blend of law, magic, and the questions that made the series different, and brings it all to a proper close.
What I appreciated is that although it is epic fantasy, it does not simply follow the usual path. It is far less about grand triumph and more about the hard muddle of ethics, power, and what happens when every rule is stretched thin. This approach makes the familiar strange again, and I found myself seeing how even the strongest systems begin to fracture under too much strain.
The characters keep changing as well. Vonvalt remains at the centre, but there is a sense of him unravelling, burdened by every compromise. Helena’s perspective sharpens, her growing insight opening up the wider world. Their bond only grows through the hardship, and I found myself hoping for them, even as everything around them teeters.
One element that drew me in was Swan’s way of pairing necromancy with justice. The magic here is not just for spectacle; instead, it brings up those uncomfortable questions about mortality, the limits of authority, and deciding where to draw the line. The book looks closely at what happens when faith runs roughshod over reason, and I could not help but think about the true cost when communities are torn by blind zeal.
It is the compromises that stand out most. Ideals meet reality, and sometimes must give way. Occasionally the focus widens for larger battles, which means we lose a little of that close, investigative feel from earlier books, but I thought the balance was managed. The grander moments feel earned, shaped by everything that has come before.
Some storylines do cross over and knot themselves a bit, and for a while it can feel tangled, but if you keep with it, the connections become clear. The slow unfolding brings a deeper sense of meaning once it all falls into place.
By the close, I found myself thinking about what loyalty means when everything is falling apart, and how sometimes bending what you believe is the only way to survive, or perhaps the way to lose everything. There is something here that reminds me of Mistborn: The Final Empire, with its focus on how personal changes ripple outwards, but with more attention given to law and justice.
If you are drawn to darker, layered tales like The Poppy War, and want a story that blends action with sharp reflections on power and corruption, this book holds plenty to satisfy. The trilogy ends in a way that feels earned, gathering up the threads of the story, and still leaves a sense of wondering about what might come after.
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