Aclidia Consequences

Abel faces the consequences for for harboring Sibyl from assassins...who then stormed their home in a failed attempt to kill them.

With slaves taking care of the mess left by their un invited guests Flavius Baro has holed himself up in his office. Dispite the stuffed leopard locked in a death lunge behind his desk the weasel looks annoyed rather than afraid of it for a change. He just keeps staring at the door, waiting for it to open while he chugs down a bottle of brandy that was hidden somewhere in the shelves.

Before long there is a soft knock at the door.

The weasel's words carry a certain weight to them, like the executioner calling the prisoner to the gallows. "Enter."

The door opens, and in walks Abel, who only looks at the floor and does not speak.

The squirrels timid nature doesn't create any sympothy from the weasel this time. Flavius looks very much like...a slave owner about to scold, or worse, his slave. Even so Flavius doesn't even know where to begin. In the end he manages to say, "Explain."

Abel frowns. "There is no good explanation, sir. I helped that lizard, lied to my owner, and other crimes." Yes, he said crimes. The squirrel knows full well he's now a criminal under Aclidia Law. He has no idea what legal punishment awaits him, but he knows it won't be good. Additionally, he for the moment declines to say *why* helped the Lizard.

Which is the next question Flavius asks, after, "Crimes? As in more than one?" the weasel can't believe his ears, "What in the blazes has gotten into you Abel! What on earth possessed you to do this? Do you know you nearly got every beast in this household killed? More importanly you nearly got /me/ killed?"

Abel nods silently. "Yes sir, I know. It was never my intention, sir." Again, the squirrel skirts the question of why. For some reason, he can't, or won't, tell Flavius about his sister, the source of most of the trouble.

The weasel leans forward, trying to force the migraine he has to subside through sheer will power. "Blazes, do you know what will happen if word got out about this? That I don't have control over my own bleedin house hold? We would be ruined! Out of business! Made a laughing stock." His tone grows more serious, "Do you know what I could have done to you? Whipping would be the least of your problems. Any other owner would have you flogged before tossing you to the Games to fight to the death!"

Abel nods. "As you should, sir. I overstepped my station, caused harm to my owner. The Law is clear. I must be punished." The squirrel is clearly resigned to his fate.

The weasel for his part leans forward over his desk rubbing his eyes. It's like...scolding a puppy. "Getting into fights, mouthing of to higher officials, forgeting your place in sociaty, and harboring fugatives with out letting your master know." He laughs dryly, "And here I thought Father would be dissapointed in me. Imagine his shock to learn that /I/ am the responsible one." The weasel's laughter cuts short. He begins to rock back and forth in his padded chair. "I think I know what fate to give you."

Abel does not look up. "Whatever you order sir."

"Well, first things first you should dissapear for a while. The servents will not look kindly at you for a while after this." The weasel stands up from his seat, "We have been having some trouble down in the vinyards. I want you to take a carriage down there and over see production as an overseer until I send for you." The weasel says simply and leaves his words hanging in the air.

Abel looks up. "Yes sir. I will leave at once."

The weasel turns to the shelf of books, he doesn't reply to the squirrel. Instead choosing to take another long swig from the bottle of brandy, not even bothering to pour it in the glass. His paws shake as he drinks. Security, next order of business is hiring security...

Abel remains standing there in silence.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Do you need me to open the door for you?" The weasel demands in a gruff voice. "Out!"

Abel shakes his head. "You hadn't dismissed me, sir..." With that, he makes his leave.

The urge to strangle the squirrel is slowly rising. After he leaves Flavius plants his tail into a seat, looking up and staring into the jaws of the leapord baring down on him. He growls deeply. A few moments later the servants sweeping up the front porch hear a loud crash and have to dodge the stuffed animal as it comes flying out the window.