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The Farseer Trilogy, Books 1-3. Assassin's Apprentice, Royal Assassin, Assassin's Quest
The Farseer Trilogy, Books 1-3. Assassin's Apprentice, 9780593722824; Royal Assassin, 9780593722831; Assassin's Quest, 9780593722848.
2048 pages, Paperback
Published August 29, 2023
1 person is currently reading
19 people want to read
About the author
Robin Hobb
320 books113k followers** I am shocked to find that some people think a 2 star 'I liked it' rating is a bad rating. What? I liked it. I LIKED it! That means I read the whole thing, to the last page, in spite of my life raining comets on me. It's a good book that survives the reading process with me. If a book is so-so, it ends up under the bed somewhere, or maybe under a stinky judo bag in the back of the van. So a 2 star from me means,yes, I liked the book, and I'd loan it to a friend and it went everywhere in my jacket pocket or purse until I finished it. A 3 star means that I've ignored friends to finish it and my sink is full of dirty dishes. A 4 star means I'm probably in trouble with my editor for missing a deadline because I was reading this book. But I want you to know . . . I don't finish books I don't like. There's too many good ones out there waiting to be found.
Robin Hobb is the author of three well-received fantasy trilogies: The Farseer Trilogy (Assassin’s Apprentice, Royal Assassin, and Assassin’s Quest), The Liveship Traders Trilogy (Ship of Magic, Mad Ship and Ship of Destiny) and the Tawny Man Trilogy (Fool’s Errand, Golden Fool, and Fool’s Fate) Her current work in progress is entitled Shaman’s Crossing. Robin Hobb lives and works in Tacoma, Washington, and has been a professional writer for over 30 years.
In addition to writing, her interests include gardening, mushrooming, and beachcombing. She and her husband Fred have three grown children and one teenager, and three grand-children.
She also writes as Megan Lindholm, and works under that name have been finalists for the Hugo award, the Nebula Award, and the Endeavor award. She has twice won an Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Readers’ Award.
Robin Hobb is the author of three well-received fantasy trilogies: The Farseer Trilogy (Assassin’s Apprentice, Royal Assassin, and Assassin’s Quest), The Liveship Traders Trilogy (Ship of Magic, Mad Ship and Ship of Destiny) and the Tawny Man Trilogy (Fool’s Errand, Golden Fool, and Fool’s Fate) Her current work in progress is entitled Shaman’s Crossing. Robin Hobb lives and works in Tacoma, Washington, and has been a professional writer for over 30 years.
In addition to writing, her interests include gardening, mushrooming, and beachcombing. She and her husband Fred have three grown children and one teenager, and three grand-children.
She also writes as Megan Lindholm, and works under that name have been finalists for the Hugo award, the Nebula Award, and the Endeavor award. She has twice won an Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Readers’ Award.
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May 14, 2025
1. Assassin's apprentice ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Fitz, son of Chivalry Farseer is a rather grandiose name for a bastard child, especially one delivered by his maternal grandfather to the court of his father’s kin and promptly left in their care. Yet, for all the indignity of his birth, Fitz remains the illegitimate son of the heir apparent to a throne whose royal lineage names its offspring after virtues their parents hope they shall embody in adulthood. (Chivalry meaning gallantry or knightly conduct—most certainly not Hippocrates!) Yes, there is even a Regal—royal in name and villain in nature.
Despite his illegitimacy, Fitz is taken into the royal court and placed under the tutelage of the king’s spymaster (who happens, incidentally, to be Fitz’s grandfather). Among other things, he is trained in the subtle and ruthless art of assassination—groomed, in short, to become the royal assassin.
But Fitz is far more than he seems. In Hobb’s universe, two mystical forces shape the world: the Skill and the Wit. The former enables those gifted with it to communicate telepathically over distances, or even bend others to their will; the latter, far more controversial, allows for deep communion and bonding with animals. The Wit is reviled, seen as an abomination—dangerous, forbidden magic that marks its practitioners as outcasts.
As Fitz learns the arts of subterfuge, etiquette, poisons, and the blade from his mentor Chade (himself a royal bastard), he encounters the wolf Nighteyes, with whom he forms an indelible and deeply moving bond through the Wit. Nighteyes becomes his stalwart companion through the many trials to come.
Fitz’s father, Chivalry, abdicates his claim to the throne upon the revelation of Fitz’s existence and retreats from public life. But this is hardly the gravest challenge facing Verity, Chivalry’s younger brother and the next in line to rule. Raiders from the Out Islands ravage the coasts, leaving behind not corpses but something far worse: men and women whose minds have been hollowed out, stripped of empathy and conscience, reduced to dangerous, feral husks.
Raised in an atmosphere of courtly intrigue and existential peril, Fitz soon finds himself on his first truly perilous mission—one that will shatter his soul. And while some view him as a threat to the throne, he may well prove to be the key to the kingdom’s survival.
Robin Hobb has crafted a world that is magical in every sense of the word. After years of stale, formulaic fantasy, her work breathes new life into the genre. Fitz’s journey begins in this novel and spans decades, concluding across three trilogies, with an additional trilogy and quartet set in the same universe, though with different protagonists. Hobb’s world is at once radiant and shadowed; moral absolutes are rare, and while she may not reach the grim complexity of George R. R. Martin or Steven Erikson, her characters are nuanced—each drawn with virtues and vices in believable measure.
Above all, this is a richly imagined fantasy world, meticulously constructed and deeply rewarding. The magical forces within it are compelling yet restrained—never devolving into deus ex machina spectacle.
As for Fitz, he is far from the archetype of the favoured by fortune hero. He does not triumph through sheer luck, brawn, or genius. His abilities are real, but his victories are often pyrrhic, his defeats crushing.
And one must not forget Nighteyes. Many authors have dabbled with the concept of animal familiars or human-animal communication, but few—if any—have captured such a tender, authentic, and emotionally resonant connection as Hobb does with the bond between man and wolf. There is no mawkishness here; Nighteyes is a delight, particularly for his dry wit and sarcasm.
Read freely—and savour the entire trilogy.
2. Royal Assassin ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Fitz has survived his first perilous mission as the King’s assassin, yet the cost has been harrowing. Wounded, embittered, and disillusioned, he resolves to abandon his oath to the King and to distance himself from the intrigues of the Farseer court. Nevertheless, love and a chain of dramatic developments draw him back to Buckkeep and to the deadly web of royal machinations.
The raiders of the Red Ships have renewed their assaults on the coasts, leaving in their wake scorched villages and ravaged souls — people transformed into a plague upon the kingdom by their senseless aggression. Yet the true threat is not solely external. A treachery brews within, aiming to seize the throne of the ailing King Shrewd.
In this time of compounded perils, the fate of the Six Duchies may once again lie in the hands of Fitz — though salvation, as ever, may demand unspeakable sacrifice and extract a terrible toll from all involved.
As the second book in the series gathers weight, Hobb is afforded the opportunity to develop the characters we met in Assassin’s Apprentice, and she does so with remarkable finesse, deftly escalating the plot with admirable control and rhythm. The characters remain richly three-dimensional — whether beloved or despised, noble or duplicitous, they are always solid and convincing. They compel the reader’s attention; one empathises with their plights, fears for their future, or despises them so deeply that one yearns for their downfall. And yet — nothing comes swiftly, and therein lies the beauty: the suspense grips you, page after page, keeping you ever on edge, ever invested.
And of course, there is Nighteyes — the beloved wolf. Burrich, Lady Patience, Princess Kettricken, the Fool, Verity, even the loathsome Regal would each suffice to make the novel compelling in their own right. But let us not dissemble: the pages attain a rare splendour whenever the wolf appears, who asserts unambiguously:
“Wolves have no kings.”
A favourite from his days as a pup, the wary cub rescued by Fitz evolves into the most captivating figure in the series — one whose appearances are anticipated with the keenest eagerness. For the bond they share is that of a true pack, transcending all else that transpires within this beautiful narrative.
King Shrewd lies dead, murdered by his conniving — and to the reader, thoroughly unsympathetic — son Regal. And Fitz, too, is dead — or so his enemies believe. Yet with the aid of loyal friends and his innate, mysterious power, he rises from the grave, though grievously marked in body and soul.
The Six Duchies teeter on the brink of ruin, for the vile Regal has plundered and deserted the capital while the rightful heir, Prince Verity, roams the wilderness in a near-mad quest that borders on a death wish. Only Verity’s return — or that of his heir — might avert the kingdom’s collapse.
Despite his wounds, Fitz will not remain idle. Driven by loss and painful memory, he takes on a perilous mission: to assassinate Regal...
3. Assassin's Quest ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
King Shrewd is dead, slain by the treacherous hand of his conniving (and not particularly likeable) son, Regal. Just as dead, at least to his enemies, is Fitz. And yet, through the aid of his companions and the power he bears, he emerges from the grave—deeply scarred both in body and soul.
The Six Duchies teeter on the brink of ruin, for the wretched Regal has plundered and abandoned the capital while the rightful heir, Prince Verity, wanders lost in a mad quest that resembles more a deathwish than a mission. Only the return of Verity—or, at the very least, his heir—might yet save the kingdom.
Despite his wounds, Fitz will not remain idle. Driven by loss and the bitterness of memory, he undertakes the perilous task of slaying Regal…
The third and final volume of the Farseer Trilogy, Assassin’s Quest, expansive in its scope, begins at a bleak juncture: all appears lost, and but the faintest glimmer of hope can be discerned amidst a kingdom in collapse. The atmosphere is heavy, oppressive even, and it grips the reader’s heart tightly (Hobb is, in general, unrelenting—neither to her readers nor to her characters, whom she subjects to both fire and steel, and most of all poor Fitz). And yet, there remains a thread, ever fragile, that suggests a way out of the labyrinth—something, however slight, for both reader and dramatis personae to hold on to.
Fitz has escaped death more than once, but his most recent brush marks a permanent transformation, reshaping his very character—one that continues to evolve throughout the trilogy. His bond with the wolf—arguably the most powerful element across all three volumes—has deepened to the point where he often thinks and acts as a wolf (even as the wise Nighteyes begins to adopt a more human perspective). Thanks to the magic that saved his life—or perhaps because of it—he becomes a different man: a man who seeks solitude, who no longer recoils from isolation but rather yearns for it. Yet, in his quest for vengeance through Regal’s death, he must rediscover vestiges of his former self and relearn how to function as a man—a task made all the more difficult when his only companion is the (albeit slightly "humanised" through their bond) Nighteyes.
Insofar as something human endures in his soul, he continues to long for his beloved Molly, though he knows he must let her go—for the world believes him dead, and his return to her side would place her in grave danger, surrounded as he is by numerous and powerful enemies. Thus Fitz learns to live with personal sacrifice and loss, undergoing a painful and unrelenting coming of age. He learns to lick his wounds and move forward. After all, Molly is safe with Burrich, and he may pursue the path of the lone (or dual?) wolf until he finds allies, for he cannot save the Six Duchies on his own. It is that solitary path he must follow—but this, too, he must overcome. He cannot save the realm alone, and as he moves beyond grief (and the ease, the simple pleasure, of thinking like a wolf), his resolve to act grows firmer within him.
Hobb manages to bring her trilogy to a close without dismantling the beauty so carefully constructed in the first two volumes, leaving a superb legacy which she will continue to build upon in subsequent works.
Despite the sombre tone that pervades much of the book, readers will delight in the direct-to-mind conversations between Fitz and Nighteyes—so much so that one might crave more of them. The worldbuilding never ceases, with ever more facets of the Six Duchies revealing themselves, often as a prelude to tales yet to come. The characters remain rich and compelling, with the sole exception perhaps of the villainous Regal, who does not always fully convince in the role of the petulant aristocratic scion. Still, this is a minor flaw, and one easily forgiven in light of the narrative’s breadth and literary merit. In the end, Assassin’s Quest delivers encounters and revelations of emotional weight, pivotal to the story, and if you manage to complete the trilogy without shedding a tear, then it might well be time for a visit to a specialist...
Fitz, son of Chivalry Farseer is a rather grandiose name for a bastard child, especially one delivered by his maternal grandfather to the court of his father’s kin and promptly left in their care. Yet, for all the indignity of his birth, Fitz remains the illegitimate son of the heir apparent to a throne whose royal lineage names its offspring after virtues their parents hope they shall embody in adulthood. (Chivalry meaning gallantry or knightly conduct—most certainly not Hippocrates!) Yes, there is even a Regal—royal in name and villain in nature.
Despite his illegitimacy, Fitz is taken into the royal court and placed under the tutelage of the king’s spymaster (who happens, incidentally, to be Fitz’s grandfather). Among other things, he is trained in the subtle and ruthless art of assassination—groomed, in short, to become the royal assassin.
But Fitz is far more than he seems. In Hobb’s universe, two mystical forces shape the world: the Skill and the Wit. The former enables those gifted with it to communicate telepathically over distances, or even bend others to their will; the latter, far more controversial, allows for deep communion and bonding with animals. The Wit is reviled, seen as an abomination—dangerous, forbidden magic that marks its practitioners as outcasts.
As Fitz learns the arts of subterfuge, etiquette, poisons, and the blade from his mentor Chade (himself a royal bastard), he encounters the wolf Nighteyes, with whom he forms an indelible and deeply moving bond through the Wit. Nighteyes becomes his stalwart companion through the many trials to come.
Fitz’s father, Chivalry, abdicates his claim to the throne upon the revelation of Fitz’s existence and retreats from public life. But this is hardly the gravest challenge facing Verity, Chivalry’s younger brother and the next in line to rule. Raiders from the Out Islands ravage the coasts, leaving behind not corpses but something far worse: men and women whose minds have been hollowed out, stripped of empathy and conscience, reduced to dangerous, feral husks.
Raised in an atmosphere of courtly intrigue and existential peril, Fitz soon finds himself on his first truly perilous mission—one that will shatter his soul. And while some view him as a threat to the throne, he may well prove to be the key to the kingdom’s survival.
Robin Hobb has crafted a world that is magical in every sense of the word. After years of stale, formulaic fantasy, her work breathes new life into the genre. Fitz’s journey begins in this novel and spans decades, concluding across three trilogies, with an additional trilogy and quartet set in the same universe, though with different protagonists. Hobb’s world is at once radiant and shadowed; moral absolutes are rare, and while she may not reach the grim complexity of George R. R. Martin or Steven Erikson, her characters are nuanced—each drawn with virtues and vices in believable measure.
Above all, this is a richly imagined fantasy world, meticulously constructed and deeply rewarding. The magical forces within it are compelling yet restrained—never devolving into deus ex machina spectacle.
As for Fitz, he is far from the archetype of the favoured by fortune hero. He does not triumph through sheer luck, brawn, or genius. His abilities are real, but his victories are often pyrrhic, his defeats crushing.
And one must not forget Nighteyes. Many authors have dabbled with the concept of animal familiars or human-animal communication, but few—if any—have captured such a tender, authentic, and emotionally resonant connection as Hobb does with the bond between man and wolf. There is no mawkishness here; Nighteyes is a delight, particularly for his dry wit and sarcasm.
Read freely—and savour the entire trilogy.
2. Royal Assassin ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Fitz has survived his first perilous mission as the King’s assassin, yet the cost has been harrowing. Wounded, embittered, and disillusioned, he resolves to abandon his oath to the King and to distance himself from the intrigues of the Farseer court. Nevertheless, love and a chain of dramatic developments draw him back to Buckkeep and to the deadly web of royal machinations.
The raiders of the Red Ships have renewed their assaults on the coasts, leaving in their wake scorched villages and ravaged souls — people transformed into a plague upon the kingdom by their senseless aggression. Yet the true threat is not solely external. A treachery brews within, aiming to seize the throne of the ailing King Shrewd.
In this time of compounded perils, the fate of the Six Duchies may once again lie in the hands of Fitz — though salvation, as ever, may demand unspeakable sacrifice and extract a terrible toll from all involved.
As the second book in the series gathers weight, Hobb is afforded the opportunity to develop the characters we met in Assassin’s Apprentice, and she does so with remarkable finesse, deftly escalating the plot with admirable control and rhythm. The characters remain richly three-dimensional — whether beloved or despised, noble or duplicitous, they are always solid and convincing. They compel the reader’s attention; one empathises with their plights, fears for their future, or despises them so deeply that one yearns for their downfall. And yet — nothing comes swiftly, and therein lies the beauty: the suspense grips you, page after page, keeping you ever on edge, ever invested.
And of course, there is Nighteyes — the beloved wolf. Burrich, Lady Patience, Princess Kettricken, the Fool, Verity, even the loathsome Regal would each suffice to make the novel compelling in their own right. But let us not dissemble: the pages attain a rare splendour whenever the wolf appears, who asserts unambiguously:
“Wolves have no kings.”
A favourite from his days as a pup, the wary cub rescued by Fitz evolves into the most captivating figure in the series — one whose appearances are anticipated with the keenest eagerness. For the bond they share is that of a true pack, transcending all else that transpires within this beautiful narrative.
King Shrewd lies dead, murdered by his conniving — and to the reader, thoroughly unsympathetic — son Regal. And Fitz, too, is dead — or so his enemies believe. Yet with the aid of loyal friends and his innate, mysterious power, he rises from the grave, though grievously marked in body and soul.
The Six Duchies teeter on the brink of ruin, for the vile Regal has plundered and deserted the capital while the rightful heir, Prince Verity, roams the wilderness in a near-mad quest that borders on a death wish. Only Verity’s return — or that of his heir — might avert the kingdom’s collapse.
Despite his wounds, Fitz will not remain idle. Driven by loss and painful memory, he takes on a perilous mission: to assassinate Regal...
3. Assassin's Quest ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
King Shrewd is dead, slain by the treacherous hand of his conniving (and not particularly likeable) son, Regal. Just as dead, at least to his enemies, is Fitz. And yet, through the aid of his companions and the power he bears, he emerges from the grave—deeply scarred both in body and soul.
The Six Duchies teeter on the brink of ruin, for the wretched Regal has plundered and abandoned the capital while the rightful heir, Prince Verity, wanders lost in a mad quest that resembles more a deathwish than a mission. Only the return of Verity—or, at the very least, his heir—might yet save the kingdom.
Despite his wounds, Fitz will not remain idle. Driven by loss and the bitterness of memory, he undertakes the perilous task of slaying Regal…
The third and final volume of the Farseer Trilogy, Assassin’s Quest, expansive in its scope, begins at a bleak juncture: all appears lost, and but the faintest glimmer of hope can be discerned amidst a kingdom in collapse. The atmosphere is heavy, oppressive even, and it grips the reader’s heart tightly (Hobb is, in general, unrelenting—neither to her readers nor to her characters, whom she subjects to both fire and steel, and most of all poor Fitz). And yet, there remains a thread, ever fragile, that suggests a way out of the labyrinth—something, however slight, for both reader and dramatis personae to hold on to.
Fitz has escaped death more than once, but his most recent brush marks a permanent transformation, reshaping his very character—one that continues to evolve throughout the trilogy. His bond with the wolf—arguably the most powerful element across all three volumes—has deepened to the point where he often thinks and acts as a wolf (even as the wise Nighteyes begins to adopt a more human perspective). Thanks to the magic that saved his life—or perhaps because of it—he becomes a different man: a man who seeks solitude, who no longer recoils from isolation but rather yearns for it. Yet, in his quest for vengeance through Regal’s death, he must rediscover vestiges of his former self and relearn how to function as a man—a task made all the more difficult when his only companion is the (albeit slightly "humanised" through their bond) Nighteyes.
Insofar as something human endures in his soul, he continues to long for his beloved Molly, though he knows he must let her go—for the world believes him dead, and his return to her side would place her in grave danger, surrounded as he is by numerous and powerful enemies. Thus Fitz learns to live with personal sacrifice and loss, undergoing a painful and unrelenting coming of age. He learns to lick his wounds and move forward. After all, Molly is safe with Burrich, and he may pursue the path of the lone (or dual?) wolf until he finds allies, for he cannot save the Six Duchies on his own. It is that solitary path he must follow—but this, too, he must overcome. He cannot save the realm alone, and as he moves beyond grief (and the ease, the simple pleasure, of thinking like a wolf), his resolve to act grows firmer within him.
Hobb manages to bring her trilogy to a close without dismantling the beauty so carefully constructed in the first two volumes, leaving a superb legacy which she will continue to build upon in subsequent works.
Despite the sombre tone that pervades much of the book, readers will delight in the direct-to-mind conversations between Fitz and Nighteyes—so much so that one might crave more of them. The worldbuilding never ceases, with ever more facets of the Six Duchies revealing themselves, often as a prelude to tales yet to come. The characters remain rich and compelling, with the sole exception perhaps of the villainous Regal, who does not always fully convince in the role of the petulant aristocratic scion. Still, this is a minor flaw, and one easily forgiven in light of the narrative’s breadth and literary merit. In the end, Assassin’s Quest delivers encounters and revelations of emotional weight, pivotal to the story, and if you manage to complete the trilogy without shedding a tear, then it might well be time for a visit to a specialist...
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