In Three Immortals, first impressions matter, especially when introducing a protagonist like Kel Chaada. The chapter “Ground War” is where we meet him in earnest, and it’s no coincidence that the moment is steeped in tension, moral complexity, and an undercurrent of unease. Kel is no stranger to war, yet this scene establishes him as a leader burdened by both external and internal conflicts—a man caught between duty, morality, and the enigmatic forces that seem to govern his every decision.
This scene is supposed to tell us about Kel without outright exposition. We see his pragmatic side immediately: although he doesn’t believe in the goddess Mnagwa Zmaam, he performs the ritual prayer to maintain troop morale. This detail says more than paragraphs of internal monologue ever could. Kel understands his soldiers not just as units to command but as people, complete with vulnerabilities, beliefs, and fears. His natural tactical aptitude, credited for his impeccable record of keeping his unit alive, is clearly intertwined with his ability to connect with them. Yet this connection comes with a cost: Kel feels the weight of their lives pressing on him, even as he doubts the legitimacy of the broader campaign.
The planet Prral itself mirrors Kel’s inner turmoil. Harsh, hostile, and seemingly devoid of strategic value, it represents the futility and grind of a war that feels increasingly meaningless. Kel’s unease about the prisoner exchange—despite following protocol to the letter—underscores his finely tuned instincts. He’s not a man given to paranoia, but the oppressive desert wind and the rigid, ritualistic nature of the mission create a sense of foreboding that builds throughout the scene.
Then there’s the prisoner herself: a cipher, unreadable yet radiating an air of quiet power. Kel notices her disapproval during the prayer ritual and her unflinching composure under duress. These observations aren’t just details—they’re Kel’s way of thinking. He’s a man who studies his environment and the people in it, constantly calculating, constantly preparing. This attention to detail is both his strength and his curse; it’s what keeps his soldiers alive, but it also isolates him. He’s the one who must bear the responsibility of making impossible decisions—like whether to obey a direct order to abort the exchange or complete the protocol and risk catastrophic consequences.
The reveal that the prisoner is the head of Electorate intelligence—the enemy’s spymaster—raises the stakes exponentially. Kel’s instinct to question authority, even in the heat of the moment, shows us his moral core. He’s not a blindly obedient soldier; he needs reasons, context, a sense of the bigger picture. And when that bigger picture becomes clear, it’s devastating. This isn’t just a tactical blunder; it’s a strategic catastrophe.
For me, this scene was about more than introducing Kel as a character. It was about placing him in the crucible of command and showing how he reacts when the heat is turned up. His strengths—pragmatism, intuition, empathy—are evident, but so are his weaknesses: his unease, his tendency to second-guess, and his struggle to balance duty with personal ethics. Kel is a man who wants to do the right thing, but in a universe as chaotic and morally gray as this one, the “right thing” is never clear.
This introduction also sets the tone for the novel as a whole. Three Immortals is not a story of clear-cut heroes and villains. It’s a story of people—flawed, brilliant, desperate people—trying to navigate a galaxy at war. Kel’s first real appearance reflects this theme in microcosm: the clash of personal values with systemic demands, the weight of command, and the ever-present specter of betrayal.
Next week we’ll find out how the chapter ends and what else we can learn about Kel.
Comments