Lyn: Hello again, most lovely-some and glorious of Cosmere chickens! Oh… I’m sorry, the ren faire is leaking again. ::ahem:: Let me try that again!
Greetings, Cosmere chickens, and welcome to another installment of the Elantris reread! In this week’s article we meet our third primary POV character, Hrathen. Love him or love to hate him, he’s here to stay, so let’s dive into this week’s discussion with reckless abandon, shall we?
(Non)spoiler warning: This week’s article has no spoilers from other Cosmere works. Read on fearlessly, chickens!
Trigger warnings for this article: Suicide/self-harm, chronic pain, cannibalism
Last time on Elantris…
Poor Raoden wakes up an Elantrian and is tossed into the cursed city. There, he finds a friend in Galladon, another Elantrian who is coerced into showing Raoden the proverbial ropes.
Meanwhile, Sarene, Raoden’s betrothed, arrives in Kae only to discover that her husband—whom she hadn’t even met yet—is allegedly dead. She is still legally bound to the marriage contract, and decides to remain in Kae both for the sake of the alliance her country needs, and for her own curiosity. Something is amiss…
Chapter Essentials
POV Character(s): Hrathen, Raoden
L: In today’s chapters, we meet our third main POV character, Hrathen. He seems to be a bit of a divisive character when it comes to the fan community—a “love him or hate him” type, if you will. It’s been a LONG time since I last read this book, but I remember not caring for him in the beginning, but Hrathen undergoing a glorious face-turn towards the end which brought me around to him. So… let’s begin, shall we?
Chapter Three
(This chapter takes place in Kae, but since we’re doing a fair bit of discussion about Fjorden, we’re including that map here instead.)
None of Arelon’s people greeted their savior when he arrived.
P: And so it is that we meet Hrathen. He’s certainly arrogant at the beginning of the book. And his reason for visiting is as sinister as he is.
L: Yup, for sure. He’s coded as the villain almost from page one.
The people of Arelon—especially those living near the infamous city of Elantris—were known for their heretical, even godless ways.
P: Well, they didn’t used to be godless. They used to have a city full of gods. But I suppose Jaddeth (the Fjorden god) didn’t like that, either.
L: Generally speaking, religious zealots in fantasy novels aren’t heroes. But I actually really like the fact that Hrathen gets a bit of a redemptive arc. We’ll get to that much farther down the road, of course. For now? Very unlikable. We’ve already met and like Raoden, so someone arriving and calling his people heretical is bound to put the readers’ hackles up. Very masterful work on Sanderson’s part.
He had three months to convert the entire kingdom of Arelon; otherwise Holy Jaddeth—lord of all creation—would destroy it.
P: Three months certainly isn’t very long for one man to attempt to convert an entire country to a harsh religion. They’re doomed from the start.
L: Usually zealots believe that their god(s) is/are behind them and will help them to achieve even the hardest of tasks, so I don’t find it hard to swallow that he’d believe this (though we as readers know better).
P: And they’d be hard-pressed to defend even Kae, as Hrathen notices while he walks from the docks to the temple.
L: What I find more interesting about this passage is the bit about the god destroying the kingdom. Has this happened before? I’m curious about what in their religion would lead them to believe this. Perhaps in times gone by, some neighboring kingdom was destroyed by a natural disaster and the people of Fjorden explained it away as their god destroying it. Of course… this is a fantasy novel, so it’s possible that a god really could do this, but… it’s also the Cosmere and we know that there’s no Shardbearer on this planet, so another god is a bit unlikely.
Retreat into Elantris would be difficult, and only marginally effective. Kae’s buildings would provide wonderful cover for an invading force, and a few of Kae’s more peripheral structures looked like they were built almost against Elantris’s wall.
L: I really love seeing the military strategy here. It’s always nice when a “villain” is competent.
P: He certainly knows his stuff. And they couldn’t retreat into Elantris, anyway, not without sufficient food to withstand a siege. Not only that, but unbeknownst to them, there are gangs in Elantris who would fight for that food.
L: Retreating into Elantris would most certainly be a very bad, no good, awful idea.
Bloodred and glittering in the sunlight, the plate armor of a Derethi imperial high priest was an imposing sight even when one was accustomed to it.
P: He certainly strikes an imposing figure. People shrink out of his way as he walks.
L: I certainly would, if I saw a knight in full armor coming down the street!
People milled around, ignoring the holy structure in which they stood, laughing and joking. It was too much. Hrathen had heard, and believed, the reports. Now he had confirmation.
L: God forbid people be social! Ugh! /sarcasm …It seems as though Fjon has made an effort to form a connection with the local people in an effort to convert them to his religion, which—I’d wager—is a much more effective (or at least morally palatable) method than brute force. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and all.
P: Hrathen seems to be more inclined to swat those flies.
When he finally spoke, his words were directed at Fjon.
“Arteth,” he said, using the man’s Derethi title, “the ship that brought me here will leave for Fjorden in one hour. You are to be on board.”
P: As so often happens when a new leader of whatever sort arries, they dispatch the current leader of whatever group it is so as to establish their own authority.
L: I feel bad for Fjon. He seems like a good-natured enough fellow, which of course is just another way that Sanderson is villain-coding Hrathen to us.
These people don’t need a friend; they need a priest. A Derethi priest. One would think you were Korathi, watching you fraternize. We’re not here to love the people; we are here to help them.
L: Hoo boy. I already have bad feelings about this religion. Now, I admit to some bias here—the religion I personally follow (Wicca) is not a “structured” religion so I’m already inclined to dislike this take on a personal level. But even were I in a more traditional structured religion, I’d have an issue with this. Loving people in order to help them is a pretty base tenet in most organized religions.
P: Like, these two concepts aren’t mutually exclusive. You can love them and help them.
L: I’m more and more impressed with just how effectively Sanderson set us up to dislike Hrathen. I’d be curious to see if followers of more structured religious traditions had a more lenient opinion of him…
Now that he had cleared the walls of paintings—agrarian nature scenes, for the most part—and thrown out Fjon’s numerous personal effects,
L: Little things like this would be villain-coding even to those who might feel more leniently towards the character. Throwing away someone else’s personal belongings is a d*** move, no matter how you slice it.
P: Seriously. Didn’t even give Fjon a chance to take some of his belongings with him. Though considering where he’s sending him (a monastery), he likely wouldn’t have been able to keep them.
“This is the official seal of Wyrn himself!” Fjon said, picking up the scroll.
“Not just the seal, Arteth,” Hrathen said. “That is his signature as well. The document you hold was penned by His Holiness himself. That isn’t just a letter—it is scripture.”
P: Not only is Wyrn the religious leader of the Fjorden, he’s their emperor.
L: Because nothing ill has ever come of god/prophet-kings in Cosmere novels. Nooooo, nothing at all!
On another note, I do like that he’s showing some compassion to his underling here. Villain-coding or not, he’s still a good person, if misguided. There are just enough little touches like this to keep Hrathen from being completely and totally unlikable.
Few people had the opportunity to read words written by the hand of Jaddeth’s prophet and Holy Emperor.
P: I wonder who wrote all of the texts on their religion, and if they’re restricted like the writings of Wyrn.
L: I don’t think they’re restricted; the way I’m reading this is, it’s because the prophet actually wrote it himself, like, he put pen to paper and this is his actual handwriting. As opposed to scriptures that may have been rewritten or printed, which everyone would have access to.
P: That makes more sense. ::nod::
Hrathen gave the priest time to read the scroll, then reread it, and then read it again. When Fjon finally looked up, there was understanding—and gratitude—in his face. The man was intelligent enough. He knew what the orders would have required of him
P: As Fjon led Hrathen to the temple from the docks, he greeted many people and was greeted in turn. Obviously, Hrathen doesn’t care for Fjon’s casual familiarity with the citizens of Kae.
L: Doesn’t care for it, no. But he’s kind enough to realize that Fjon having to be responsible for the deaths of people he knows and likes would be hurtful, and he’s sparing him that pain.
P: Another reason he’s not completely detestable; he seems to care about Fjon even while being disappointed in him and the job he’s done.
“Arteth Dilaf,” the priest said, introducing himself as he entered. Hrathen looked up. The name and words were Fjordell, but the accent was slightly off. It sounded almost … “You’re Arelene?” Hrathen said with surprise.
P: And so we meet the zealot, Dilaf. He’s something, this one. We’ll see the true extent of his madness later on.
L: It’s interesting, because up until meeting this dude I would have (and did earlier) label Hrathen as the zealot. But this gentleman makes Hrathen look tame.
P: Right? In this one chapter, Sanderson introduces this character who you want to dislike right off the bat, and then shows that he has human, even reasonable emotions that make you kind of question that dislike.
L: And then he introduces someone even worse, thereby making Hrathen seem like more of a good guy in comparison. Masterful. Especially for his first published book!
“I brought my converts with me—fully half of the believers in Kae came with me from Naen.
L: Ah, what better thing to have than a zealot with a horde of equally-as-fanatical believers under his direct control? Surely nothing can go wrong there.
P: Nope. Nothing freaky about that at all.
Dilaf, though not of the chosen race, was obviously a man who understood the doctrine and culture of his religion. However, his ardor could be dangerous.
P: Yes, Dilaf is from Arelon, and converted about a decade ago. He has a lot of religious knowledge and a lot of religious fervor, which Hrathen recognizes and is immediately wary.
L: Not a fan of that “chosen race” bit. The whole Derethi religion gives me the heebie-jeebies.
“Arteth, are you sworn as any man’s odiv?”
Surprise. Dilaf’s eyes opened wide as he stared up at Hrathen, uncertainty flashing therein. “No, my lord.”
“Good. Then I will make you mine.”
“My lord … I am, of course, your humble servant.”
“You will be more than that, Arteth,” Hrathen said, “if you would be my odiv, I your hroden. You will be mine, heart and soul. If you follow Jaddeth, you follow Him through me. If you serve the empire, you do it under me. Whatever you think, act, or say will be by my direction. Am I understood?”
P: Here, Hrathen attempts to bind Dilaf to him in order to utilize his fervor instead of risking Dilaf using it against him. “It’s a bold move, Cotton. Let’s see if it works out for him.”
L: ::laughs:: Yeeaaah. Trying to out-con a conner is always a tricky move. Especially for someone who’s as blinded by their own righteousness as Hrathen is.
Hrathen ran his eyes over the sacred words again, even though he had long since memorized their every detail.
Behold the words of Jaddeth, through His servant Wyrn Wulfden the Fourth, Emperor and King. High Priest and Son, your request has been granted. Go to the heathen peoples of the West and declare to them my final warning…
P: Old Wyrn sounds rather full of himself. But I suppose one would have to be to declare oneself the voice of their religion’s god.
L: Most emperors and kings are pretty full of themselves, both historically and fictionally.
The pagan nations of Arelon and Teod have been blackened scars upon my land for long enough.
P: As we see here, it’s not just Arelon that Hrathen is going to try to force to his religion, it’s Sarene’s home country, too. As I mentioned above, an impossible task, doomed for failure.
L: And now we know why Sarene is so hell-bent on keeping the alliance between their countries intact.
You have three months to prophesy to the people of Arelon. At the end of that time, the holy soldiers of Fjorden will descend on the nation like hunting predators, rending and tearing the unworthy life from those who heed not my words.
P: Well, that’s not at all terrifying. And does he mean those who will not heed his words, or those who won’t heed the words of Jaddeth? This shows more arrogance on Wyrn’s part.
L: Ah. So we’re not talking about god sweeping down and destroying Arelon in a natural disaster or something. It’s just normal old war. (No less devastating, of course, but it does make that earlier bit make more sense.)
The people might not yet know it, but Hrathen was the only thing standing between them and utter annihilation.
L: I have to admit, I really love Hrathen as an ambiguous villain. He has such good intentions! He legitimately wants to save people from being killed in a bloody war. But the fact that he’s basically planning on doing so by forcibly converting them to a religion they don’t believe in is sooooo problematic. In my humble opinion, this conflict makes him the best type of villain.
P: He really is a great villain. You almost like him and then he thinks something abhorrent and you’re like, oh yes, I don’t care for this guy very much.
They had resisted Jaddeth and His people in arrogant defiance for far too long. Hrathen was their last chance. Someday they would call him their savior.
P: I highly doubt that they would, Hrathen. Highly doubt.
L: Yeah… maybe, if he succeeded, in a couple generations after history has been rewritten to favor the victors, that might be the case. But even then it’s pretty unlikely. People have long memories. Just look at the history of Ireland and Scotland and their troubles with England…
Chapter Four
The woman screamed until she grew too tired, calling for help, for mercy, for Domi. She clawed at the broad gate, her fingernails leaving marks in the film of slime. Eventually she slumped to the ground in a quiet heap, shaking from occasional sobs.
P: Chapter 4 sees us back inside Elantris, with a Raoden POV. And a new Elantrian has just been thrown into the city. Raoden and Galladon lurk in an alley and wait to see which direction the woman will turn. There are three directions she can take: left, right, or straight ahead. Depending on which direction she goes, she’ll be accosted by members of one of three gangs that have seized power of a sort in Elantris.
One thing I wonder: How do they know a new Elantrian is being thrown into the city? Do they just go down every morning and wait to see if anyone shows up? I suppose that seems the likeliest explanation.
L: Probably. What else are they going to do? It’s not like the poor Elantrians have a thriving theater district or any work to do.
P: ::giggle::
“She might be a few pounds of food lighter, but she doesn’t have any wounds. Now, if she had turned right—like you did, sule—she would have been at the dubious mercy of Shaor’s men. If she had gone forward, then Aanden would have had claim on her offerings. The left turn is definitely best—Karata’s men take your food, but they rarely hurt you.
P: Here, Galladon names all three gang lords in his info dump to Raoden. I can’t help but wonder how Galladon learned so much about the gangs in Elantris.
L: Well, I think it makes sense. If you live somewhere that has dangers, you learn about them pretty quick. “Don’t go to that part of town after dark,” or “there are two rival gangs in this city and these are the colors they wear.” Self-preservation is a huge motivator, especially when every injury you sustain sticks with you for life!
The left turn is definitely best—Karata’s men take your food, but they rarely hurt you. Better to be hungry than spend the next few years with a broken arm.”
P: Only soon, there will be a fourth option!
“I thought you said our wounds would last us an eternity.”
P: This is Raoden speaking in response to Galladon’s comment about suffering for a few years with an injury.
“We only assume they will, sule. Show me an Elantrian who has managed to keep his wits until eternity ends, and maybe he’ll be able to prove the theory.”
“How long do people usually last in here?”
“A year, maybe two,” Galladon said.
P: Even that seems an interminable amount of time to suffer injury after injury, one atop the other until the pain drives you utterly mad.
L: Yeah. It sounds like actual Hell, honestly. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
“I thought you said we couldn’t die.”
“We can’t,” Galladon said. “But the cuts, the bruises, the stubbed toes … they pile up. One can only take so much.”
“They kill themselves?” Raoden asked quietly.
“That’s not an option. No, most of them lie around mumbling or screaming. Poor rulos.”
P: My dark thoughts can’t help but wonder how many Elantrians try, or have tried to kill themselves, only resulting in more severe injuries that don’t kill them and that they then have to endure.
L: Oof. That’s a really dark thought indeed… and unfortunately one that’s all too likely.
He should have been able to help her.
L: A true hero, Raoden. It’s one of many reasons why I feel like he’s one of Sanderson’s most underrated protagonists. In a lot of ways, Raoden and Kaladin are similar. I’d love to see them interact someday.
P: He’s definitely underrated by the fandom. Him and Lightsong, from Warbreaker. And so funny that you mention Kaladin… as soon as I saw the quote you added I thought that it sounded like something Kaladin would say.
“Does nothing frighten you, sule?”
“Actually, pretty much everything here does—I’m just good at ignoring the fact that I’m terrified.
L: An entire mood. And this self-awareness is reason 2 I love him.
He moved just quickly enough to stand again as the legs cracked.
L: Here’s another example of the self-preservation, and how quickly everyone needs to learn when they’re tossed in here. If a little fall can result in a tiny injury that will build up over time, then heck yes you’re going to be hyper-aware of anything that might cause you any injury at all.
“There are three sections of Elantris, sule, and three gangs. The market section is ruled by Shaor; you met a few members of his court yesterday, though they were too busy licking the slime off your offerings to introduce themselves. In the palace section you’ll find Karata—she’s the one who so very politely relieved that woman of her food today. Last is Aanden. He spends most of his time in the university section.”
“A learned man?”
“No, an opportunist. He was the first one who realized that many of the library’s older texts were written on vellum. Yesterday’s classics have become tomorrow’s lunch. Kolo?”
P: Galladon’s info dump continues as he takes Raoden to view the territory of each of the gang lords in the city. And as is mentioned shortly after this bit, vellum is made of lamb skin.
L: Ugh… that’s incredibly unappetizing. So you’d be basically just… gnawing on a hunk of leather.
“I’m surprised they haven’t tried boiling one another.”
“Oh, it’s been tried,” Galladon said. “Fortunately, something happens to us during the Shaod—apparently the flesh of a dead man doesn’t taste too good. Kolo? In fact, it’s so violently bitter that no one can keep it down.”
L: Yikes. I’m not at all surprised that they tried it, but… yikes.
P: This is utterly morbid.
Ten years wasn’t long enough. Even in Arelon’s thick humidity, it should have taken longer for the city to deteriorate so much. Elantris looked as if it had been abandoned for centuries.
P: Raoden is right; ten years wasn’t long enough for the kind of damage that’s been done to Elantris. Perhaps it’s the broken magic that makes the decay and ruin accelerate.
L: Particularly if the magic of the Elantrians had permeated the very matter of the building materials. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d woven spells/enchantments into the very stone itself, which is now corrupted and decaying.
The Hoed, Galladon called them: those Elantrians who had succumbed to the pain. Their minds lost, their lives were filled with continual, unrelenting torture.
P: Raoden sees them lying in the streets, moaning in pain or repeating mantras, such as pleas to Domi. They’re quite a depressing and pathetic sight.
L: It reminds me a bit of how lepers were supposedly treated back in the Middle Ages. Only… worse. Because these poor wretches have no escape from their torment.
Would his friends continue their clandestine meetings? Would Kiin and Roial be able to hold the group together?
L: Ah, here we have our first hint at Raoden’s… not quite princely behavior.
P: And it’s intriguing!
Ten years ago this city had shone with its own mystical brightness…
L: See above comment about the magic permeating the stones themselves. Here’s proof!
P: Ooh, good catch.
No one knew what had caused the Reod. There were those who theorized—most of them Derethi priests—that the fall of Elantris had been caused by God.
P: Who else to blame it on?
Why seek an unseen deity when you had gods living before you?
L: A fair question, honestly.
It had come with a tempest—that much even Raoden remembered. The earth itself had shattered, an enormous chasm appearing in the south, all of Arelon quaking. With the destruction, Elantris had lost its glory.
P: So an earthquake hit, ripping a hole in the country and turning veritable gods into living zombies. Interesting.
L: Interesting that they never consider that the earthquake was the cause and not just the first symptom.
“Shaor is one who finds pleasure in controlling others, and for some reason the most wild and morally corrupt Elantrians find their way to him.”
P: Again, I wonder how Galldon knows this. Did he join each gang only to leave? Would the more ruthless of the gang leaders have even let him leave? Or perhaps he got in with the nicest of the gangs and learned about the others. I don’t recall if we ever find out.
L: It’s a good question, but I find it likely that there are whispers among those who live in the city that pass like wildfire.
“Karata is at the same time the harshest and most lenient of the gang leaders,” Galladon said, gazing at the palace. “She doesn’t often let new members into her gang, and she is extremely territorial. Karata suffers no intruders. However, if you leave Karata alone, she leaves you alone, and she rarely harms newcomers when she takes their food.”
P: Rarely harms them. I imagine she would have them beaten if they resisted giving up their meager food basket.
L: Depends on how willing they’d look to fight back, I suppose.
Karata has been caught in Kae three times now—always in the vicinity of the king’s palace.
L: Now that’s an interesting tidbit. The fact that she was near the palace specifically leads me to believe that either she lived there or knew someone who did… and it’s been so long since I read this that I can’t recall if that’s true!
P: Hopefully, we’ll find out!
L: I’m 90% sure we do, I have a dim recollection of it. But we’ll get there when we get there!
“What about the other gang leader?”
“Aanden?” Galladon asked, looking down at the university. He claims he was some kind of noble before he was thrown in here—a baron, I think. He’s tried to establish himself as monarch of Elantris, and he is incredibly annoyed that Karata has control of the palace. He holds court, claims he will feed those who join him—though all they’ve gotten so far are a few boiled books—and makes plans for attacking Kae.”
P: Yes, I imagine that he would be annoyed that, as monarch, he’s forced to set up shop in the university, where they’ve already eaten all the vellum scrolls!
If this Aanden really had been a baron, then Raoden would have known him. However, he didn’t recognize the name.
L: Very curious… I wonder if the nobles actually know which of them turned into Elantrians, or if the monarchy did what they did with Raoden and just claimed to everyone that they’d died.
P: If a baron had turned into an Elantrian and they did let that fact out, surely Raoden would remember it.
“Several Elantrian worship services required water that had been freshly gathered from a moving river.”
“Then the Aredel River does run under the city,” Raoden said.
P: Remember this tidbit, chickens. ::wink::
“A seon,” the Dula noted. “Not uncommon in the city.”
“It’s true, then?” Raoden asked.
Galladon nodded. “When a seon’s master gets taken by the Shaod, the seon itself is driven mad. There’s a number of them floating through the city. They don’t talk, they just hover about, mindless.”
P: And here, sadly, Raoden thinks of his own seon, which has also surely been driven mad. ::sad face::
L: This place just keeps getting worse and worse.
“Books!” Raoden said with excitement.
“Should never have brought you here,” Galladon muttered. “Now I’ll never get rid of you.”
P: Raoden asks Galladon where he lives and with no prompting whatsoever, Galladon takes Raoden to his cozy little abode in a wine cellar.
L: Galladon reminds me a lot of Teft. ::sniff::
“The magic of Elantris,” Raoden said. “They say that before the Reod, Elantrians could create powerful magics just by drawing Aons.”
“Oh, you mean like this?” the large dark-skinned man asked, raising his hand. He traced a symbol in the air, Aon Deo, and his finger left a glowing white line behind it.
P: Raoden thinks that he can learn something about the Aons in Galladon’s books and Galladon surprises him by drawing an Aon to hang in the air.
L: We learn much later that due to the earthquake, each Aon needs an additional line in order to function correctly. (If I remember correctly, anyway.) And that’s why these ones don’t do much of anything other than look pretty. They’re unfinished!
Galladon smiled at him through the glowing symbol that hovered in the air between them.
P: Tricksy Dula!
We’ll be leaving further speculation and discussion to you in the comments, and hope to join you there! Next week, we’ll be back with chapters 5 and 6.
Paige resides in New Mexico, of course. She has been to numerous baseball games so far this season (including the Yankees in L. A.!) and is looking forward to a family trip to see the Yankees in Colorado in July. Links to her other writing are available in her profile.
Lyndsey lives in Connecticut and makes magic wands for a living, as well as working as the costumer for two of her local Renaissance Faires. If you enjoy queer protagonists, snarky humor, and don’t mind some salty language, check out book 1 of her fantasy series. Follow her on Facebook or TikTok!
