The First Commander Chapter 1 Summary

ur story begins in an opulent throne room, furnished with large, gorgeous, red oak furniture, and exquisite artworks.
Kneeling down on one knee, Tocharian Blackburn, the lead commander in charge of King David’s forces, recounted to his majesty: “The Kingsmen in Apteron believed, bandits slay Rebekah Basin, and her ailing mother, Susannah Basin, from the condition in which their home was found.” He glances up to the king, feeling the ache in his sixty-year-old bones from the heaviness of his metal armor. “Needless to say,” he continues with a worn expression, which enlarges his steely, deep-set brown eyes. “It wasn’t ‘til after the deaths of Lord Bishop, Lord Winslow, and their entire households. A connection was later seen by the Royal Seeker,
“First Commander,” he sneers when emphasizing Tocharian’s rank. “How certain are you, the mother and daughter were the Shadow’s first victims, and not Lord Bishop and his entire household as originally thought?”
“I’m certain of this, your majesty.”
Tocharian’s reassurance brought little comfort to the king. “First Commander, it’s been three months,” he bellows. His tone was bitter with displeasure. “And still, the Shadow roams my realm, creating havoc with each life he’s taken.”
Tocharian swallows hard, lowering his ruthful gaze to the polished floor. He was a stout of a man with a face to match. His bristly, bushy beard was eggshell white in the long parts, and black at the roots, the same color, and texture as the unruly mop of hair on his head. “My king,” he vows after the king had finished scolding him. “My men and I will do better.”
“You will, First Commander,” the king demanded, appearing further unimpressed by his once remarkable warrior’s inability to put an end to the Shadow’s reign of terror. “Remember your pledge to me, the day I knighted you with the position you now hold. Remember, I only reward those who bring me satisfaction-not headaches and
“Brother!” the king roars. The sharpness of his raspy voice immediately silences the entire room. “This fiend, terrorizing my kingdom, is not a God, but a deceiver, orchestrating these murders, most-likely under the command of the Wylies. For the Devantis are dead and have been for nearly five hundred and sixty years,” he reminds him and then returns his sight back to Gawin. “Seeker, as long as the Shadow lives, he is a threat to us all. You must find the location of where he tends to strike next, for the First Commander and my Kingsmen to remedy this matter.”
Gawin rose at the king’s command and stood before an elegantly carved wooden table, peering into a pewter bowl filled with clear, lukewarm water. Even with a Seeker’s keen intuitive understanding of the makings of the world around them, and their abilities to see into other’s mind, move objects with a wave of their hand, and their bodies being able to heal any mortal wound instantaneously within seconds of affliction. A Seeker’s vision can be a tricky prowess, which requires aid from the essence of life. He splashes it onto his face. Black freckles, as big as raindrops, blanket the areas around his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. “Your majesty," he said in a dire tone. His eyes, resembling the color of dark honey, faded instantaneously to a translucent white. At the same time, the folds on his forehead are deepening with his expression changing from peaceful—to worry—too afraid. "The