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Dec

Warbreaker

Fantasy, Free

Why, Vasher thought, do so many things begin with me getting thrown into prison?

The guardsmen laughed to one another outside, slamming the cell door shut with a clang. Vasher stood and dusted himself off, rolling his shoulder and wincing. He glanced about. While the bottom half of his cell door was made of solid wood, the top half was barred, and he could see the three guards open his duffle and rifle through his possessions.

One of them noticed him. The guard was an oversized beast of a man with a shaved head and a dirtied uniform that just barely showed the bright yellow and blue colorings of the T’Telir city guard.

Bright colors, Vasher thought. I’ll have to get used to those again. In any other nation, the vibrant blues and yellows would have been ridiculous on soldiers. This, however, was Hallandren: land of Returned Gods, Lifeless servants, BioChromatic research, and–of course–color.

The large guard sauntered toward the cell, leaving his friends to amuse themselves with Vasher’s duffle. “They say you’re pretty tough,” the man said, sizing up Vasher.

Vasher did not respond.

“The bartender says you beat down some twenty men in the brawl.” The guard rubbed his chin. “You don’t look that tough to me. Either way, you should have known better than to strike a priest. The others, they’ll spend a night locked up. You, though. . .you’ll hang. Colorless fool.”