#rauffen

ROYAL ACADEMY STORIES (FIRST YEAR) holds a few overlapping tales, but readers will find their events largely in sync. For example, when Dunkelfelger reacts to losing a game of treasure-stealing ditter, readers view the fallout through the eyes of the duchy's dorm supervisor (Rauffen), a fourth-year apprentice archscholar (Clarissa), and a first-year archduke candidate (Hannelore). It's a puzzle worth assembling.

Rauffen reacts with surprising placidness, and his discernment regularly and authoritatively puts Lestilaut in his place (Rauffen: "Did you really gain nothing from that game of ditter except petulant anger? [..] If so, no way I can deny that you lack the self-awareness and mindset required of a proper aub," page 81). This insight into Rauffen's disposition outside of games and warfare establishes him as a credulous and genuine figure, a perspective otherwise missed in the course of the novel series' regular narrative.

Hannelore, hilariously, has no idea what she's doing. She's a mediocre person, and frequently chides the gods for her inborn lack of confidence and her terrible sense of timing. Hannelore tries her utmost to stay out of the way, but she often incites others into action by sheer accident. One should hope she marries away from Dunkelfelger. But alas, that appears to be the fate of Clarissa, a duchy peer whose high affections for the so-called Saint of Ehrefest means she has set her sights on gaining access to the inner circle of Rozemyne.

Another highlight of ROYAL ACADEMY STORIES (FIRST YEAR) is a startlingly emotional profile of Angelica. The medknight confesses to receiving consolation from temple attendants with greater sincerity than she ever found at home. "Now I really understood why Lady Rozemyne preferred staying in the temple instead of the castle," she says to herself. "That was maybe the first time anyone had said they were pleased to have my company in particular" (pages 143, 151).

Meanwhile, Ortwin, a fist-year archduke candidate from Drewanchel, grows close to Wilfried when the two young men learn they each have sisters with wildly uncontrollable personal agency and senses of individuality. Ortwin's sister, Adolphine, is a bit different though. Destined (cursed?) to wed Sigiswald, next in line for the throne, Adolphine equally dotes on and pushes her younger brother to be the best. She lost her opportunity to rule the duchy, but she won't see her kid brother suffer the same fate. This intrigue will likely remain an underplayed splinter plot, but the repeating affairs of a royal prince potentially forced to marry someone he does/does not love keeps coming up. Ortwin's anecdote of feeling helpless, watching his sister sob, as the news of her engagement reverberates, carves an indelible image.

The current volume features regrettably little from older students at the Royal Academy. And further, the only adults readers hear from are Rauffen, of Dunkelfelger, and Solange, the librarian. Episodes related by Prince Anastasius would have been entertaining, as would have events narrated by anyone else of status close to Lady Eglantine. Further, when one considers all of the nicknames students have for the legendary Ferdinand during his days at the Royal Academy (e.g., "Lord of Evil," "the lonely genius created by overwhelming misfortune," and "the Master Tactician of Ehrefest"), a few reminiscences from other professors may have proved illuminating.

Side stories are fun, but one doesn't anticipate many of these characters returning with any significant influence on the greater narrative. Hopefully, readers will see more of Ortwin, and hopefully, readers will see the more sensitive and pragmatic Angelica, but the odds aren't in their favor. On the plus side, ROYAL ACADEMY STORIES (FIRST YEAR) includes one of the most phenomenal intersections of character writing and novel translation to date: A single instance in which Wilfried (pathetically) attempts to explain pound cake to a group of girls, uncomfortably rationalizing the unadorned and unflavored plate as "puh-lein." The scene is an achingly comical exhibition of Wilfried's sad detachment from commonality, as well as a strikingly brilliant example of a novel translation and adaptation team that knows its source material inside and out.