I will rant about this book, there's no doubt in my mind. I'm simply trying to gather my thoughts. Let's try with the first book, "Assassin's Apprentice," shall we?

I liked Book I. It was a beginning story, a training story. Young FitzChivalry is the bastard son of King-in-Waiting Chivalry and has to come to terms with a world that doesn't want him. King Shrewd, however, decides to train him as an assassin from an early age, and so begins young Fitz' journey into adulthood and the intrigues of the royal court. Book I works because Fitz is too young to understand half of what he's doing or to give any serious thought to it. He's learning to play a dangerous chess game against opponents who have far more experience, though usually less sense, than him. Therefore, we expect his failures to be on par with his victories, probably to surpass them even.

Book II suffers from trying to pull the same stunt twice to an older and more experienced Fitz. We tell ourselves Fitz would have learned from the ordeals in Book I, that he would try to forge his own identity, make his own decisions, be his own man for once. He doesn't. At no time did I feel him grow as a character, rather he was always complaining about how unfair life was to him, about what he wanted to do, never sparing a thought for others except occasionally and briefly. Fitz is always putting his urges, his desires, first, always at the expense of putting other people in danger. An assassin should know better.

So, yes, this turns Fitz into a selfish, little brat, but there's still worse to come. I've said it before and I'll say it again: heroes (and their entourage) needn't be stupid for villains to be smart. But this is what happens in Book II. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is dumb beyond the point of credulity, wielding feeble arguments to argue passivity. Of course, this only makes Fitz' character even dumber for going along with it all. Treason is brewing in the royal court and everyone seems to believe inaction is the best remedy. Some even go so far as claiming it's their only choice, a ludicrous thought. Peasants, soldiers, lords, all are easily duped by a web of conspiracy that can be seen from light years away. Not one character makes a sensible choice throughout the length of Book II and the author has utterly failed to convince me about the reasons why.

I suppose what angers me the most is how the author manipulates hope to lure the reader in. Hope that Fitz will become his own man, hope that things will turn out okay, hope that somebody will have the sense to kill Regal once and for all and thus put an end to his far-fetched charade. With every turn of page, every chapter that gets consumed by the reader, things take a turn for the worse; each successive title forebodes another dark, depressing chapter, and the reader's hopes slowly, but surely, ebb away. It's an incredibly depressing book, not so much for the plot itself, but because of how unbelievably the characters act. The author seems intent on convincing you that two plus two equals five when you know it to be four.

I tried to convince myself Book III would be better. I checked the one-star reviews to prepare for the worst and was not disappointed. Everything I've read points to a long and pointless read that turns productive towards its bittersweet ending that seems more bitter than sweet. There's apparently another trilogy about Fitz' exploits that tries to tie some, if not all, of the plot holes of the Farseer Trilogy, but I presently feel too deceived by this trilogy to entertain the notion of beginning another one, with the same dumb protagonist and written by the same author.

Originally, I gave this a two-star rating out of pity, more than anything else, but then "Rule of Two" came to mind. I gave that one a one-star rating on the basis of its incredible -in the true sense of the word- plot, but I think "Royal Assassin" is the first book I've read that not only has a plot that doesn't hold water, of any kind, but it is also way too depressing going about it. At this point in time, I wish I could erase this book from memory, commit it to some deep, dark corner of my mind and leave it there for all eternity.

Some time in the distant future I may gather the will to read the end of this trilogy. Or perhaps not. But if there's something Robin Hobb has helped me discover is what kind of fantasy I enjoy and what kind I don't. I've discovered I don't enjoy the kind of fantasy that puts its main character through a constant stream of endless suffering that furthers no plot or character development. Suffering for the sake of suffering itself is pointless. Worse, it's bad writing or, in any event, it makes for bad reading.

To close this rather long rant I leave you with this: In my world of reading/writing I praise subtlety over brutality, cunning over stupidity, strong characters that react to circumstance rather than being manipulated by the author's desires. Every writer sets him or herself with an endgame. Some, in trying to organise their way through to it, lose perspective of their characters, wondering more about getting character X to do action Y and less about why character X should do action Y in the first place. I won't say whether this is right or wrong, but I've always valued the latter over the former. So, my advice, for whatever is worth, is this: build strong characters, set your pieces, and only then play the game. Who knows, maybe the game will take you in unforeseeable directions...