I Jason Pere relinquish ownership of the following intellectual property "The New World Order" to Plaid Hat Games.



The New World Order
By
Jason Pere

“I heard that the Grand Abbey was destroyed by one of those, chimera, things,” Peter said as he thrust his pitchfork into the stack of hay.

“Where ever did you hear such a ridiculous story? Have you even seen a chimera,” retorted Brian as he flung a heap of hay into the bed of the wagon.

“It was the other night down at Misty’s,” said Perter defensively.

“Ah, of course, and how many cup in were you? I suppose you heard this news from the Father Abbot himself,” Brian said with unapologetic mockery in his words.

Peter scowled and stopped loading hay into the wagon while he launched his response at the other man. “I’ll have you know I was stone sober…mostly anyway... and I heard the news from some drovers that were bringing their flocks back into Evermist,”
“Oh some drovers were they. Well then that has got to be the perfect truth of it. Tell me did they say anything about the chimera that did it. Surely the must have seen the beast,” pressed Brian with an antagonizing inflection.

Peter huffed and bit his lip to stifle the caustic outburst of derogatory insults he reflexively wanted to use to punish Brian. Peter took a long deep breath before he next spoke. “I believed them. The seemed like honest men. I did no need to be skeptical of them in the least. They sported enough wounds on their bodies to convince me. They said that an attack from a small group of chimera was the reason that they were headed back early. They saw the rubble on the way.”

“They could have been set upon by bandits or highwaymen. They were just looking to seem interesting is all. I am sure of that. Men just need something to talk about,” blurted Brian as he returned to filling the wagon with hay.

“I do not think that they were playing at any sort of falsehood. I know that we have not seen any of the chimera come around our home but that doesn’t mean that they do not exist. How do you explain the red rains? Even more curiously what of Brother Donaban?” said Peter with a sly confidence in his voice.

Peter’s last statement was enough to gather the undivided attention of his fellow farmer. “What of the Councilman?” asked Brian as he lackadaisically held his pitchfork.

“Well when was the last time you saw him? He has not been in the village for…I can not remember when. In fact I can not recall the last time I saw any brother of the Vermillion Council. Can you?” asked Peter while he wiped the dirt and sweat from his brow.

Brian gave a valiant effort as he tried to think of some way to discredit the other man but the only thing that he was able to conjure up was an awkward silence. “Come to think of it, I do not know the last time I saw a red cloak,” Brian reluctantly stated.

“There has to be some reason for the sudden disappearance of the Councilman,” Peter said matter-of-factly. He let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he finally felt like he was beginning to break though the other man’s skepticism.

“I do not claim to know the workings of the Vermilion Council. I am sure that the red cloaks have some reason for what they do. They always have a reason and they not well known for sharing their motives,” retorted Brian as he withdrew back into his comfortable shell of disbelief.

Peter’s fledgling smile faded away as quickly as it had appeared. He snorted and tried to think of a way to impress his concerns upon the man at his side. After several long breaths and more than one attempt at mentally framing an argument Peter grunted and returned to filling the wagon with hay. The two men continued on in their tenuous silence for some time. All the while Peter continued to think and mull over a way to break the willful ignorance of his friend. Peter had nearly settled on a plan of attack when a commotion at the edge of the village drew his attention.