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Flavius Baro the weasel his slave Abel the squirrel talk business... and bacon

The sun beats down on the Baro family manor. The birds are chirping, the city beyond teh gates is bustling with activity, much to the chargen of young Flavius Baro who is half passed out leaning against the base of the fountain, a large bottle of wine resting in his paws. His shirt and vest both hang open to let his sizable pot gut roll out, which has grown even more sizable the longer the weasel stays in Aclidia. The young weasel groans softly, head leaning back against the rim of the fountain and his tongue hanging out the side.

Abel is standing nearby. "Master, might I suggest some shade? And...perhaps a salad?"

The bloated weasel groans, using his free paw to shield himself from the sun as he looks up at Abel. "A...Abel? is that you?" The weasel lets the empty bottle in his paws to clutch at his sore stomach while struggling to pick himself up, "What time is it? Is the party over already?"

Abel nods. "Yes Master, it is. If I may be frank, sir, you need exercise."

"Why would you want to be Frank? Isn't able Abel good enough?" The weasel kicks his head back in a smug chuckle and instantly regrets it. Paws clutching at the side of his head the weasel hisses, "Blast it..." Finely to his feet Baro steadies himself. He looks down to examine the damage done to his waist line. The weasel has put on a fresh layer of padding with all the feasts he has had upon his arrival. Flavius though quickly shrugs it off, "Ah, who has time for that?" The young gold furred weasel stretches his arms, "What's on the agenda today Abel?" He turns for the fountain behind him. Cupping his paws together he begins to splash himself in the face with water.

Abel checks a rolled up paper. "Hmm, no appointments, sir. Perhaps a jog."

Flavius brushes his teeth by running a claw in and out of his mouth. He finely spits off to the side and wipes off his jaw with his shirt sleeve. "That's an excellent idea Abel! The slaves could use the exercise. After you have the cooks get breakfast ready I want you to organize a cardio regiment for the slaves today. They could use some fun and games anyway." The weasel begins to walk around the fountain, he continues as he makes his way to the manor, "I want some eggs today, and an extra helping of bacon. Oh and do bring it up to the study, I'm still trying to make heads or tails of Fathers finances here."

Abel nods. "Yes sir, though I must limit the bacon. Remember the heart attack your blessed father barely survived?"

Flavius looks back to the water fountain and the statue over it of the slender weasel striking down a wolf by ramming a spear through its belly. It's hard to believe anyone like that would could have a heart attack. Paws on his hips the weasel chuckles and shakes his head, "Heh, I remember that. You should have see the look on his face when he came back from that trip early to find me throwing a party at the house. I swear he looked like he was going to flay me from head to tail if he hadn't had that heart attack." The weasel chuckles one last time before turning back for the manor, waving a paw idly in the air, "Fine. But there better be some extra cantaloupe there to make up for it."

Abel nods. "Of course, Master." He turns to another slave. "You heard Master, to the kitchen, quick."

Flavius stalks the inside of his spacious and illustrious manor like a beast on a mission. He walks up the stairs to the second floor. He opens the door to the study. The room is as large as a living room and the walls lined with books. Above the book shelf's the walls are also lined with the pelts of various beasts ranging from vermin to mice to even some more exotic beasts, collected from his fathers many hunting trips. There is a stuffed leopard set up to stand behind the large oak desk and posed on its hind legs in such a way that it seams to snarl at visitors and threaten to devour the one sitting behind the desk. The weasel yelps in panic falling to the floor while clutching at his fleshy chest, "BLAZES! Every bleeding TIME!" Flavius picks himself up, "Why would Father even HAVE something like that?"

Abel follows up not long after. "Master, your meal is being prepared, one of the servants will bring it in shortly...In the meantime, is there anything else you need, sir?"

The bloated weasel picks himself up, "You can have someone bring in a new shirt and after you tell me why we bother to keep that...THING...around you can tell me about the status of my household." Flavius walks in, keeping his distance of the large cat which had to be stuffed into a crouched shape to make it fit into the room. He finds a book shelf, grabs a book about economics and tosses it aside, reaching in again for the bottle of brandy hidden with in. Prize in paw Flavius sits down in the desk chair, large stuffed predatory cat looming over him as if it was ready to devour its prey whole...which if living probably could.

Abel observes the creature. "You could sell it, sir." He walks over toward the desk. "As far as I can tell, Master, is the household is in order. The servants are obedient, and docile. Nothing appears to be amiss, sir."

Abel observes the creature. "You could sell it, sir." He walks over toward the desk. "As far as I can tell, Master, is the household is in order. The servants are obedient, and docile. Nothing appears to be amiss, sir."

Flavius looks at the beast behind him and shivers. He wonders if his father really killed it. He is trying to imagine a weasel killing a monster so large. "I would love nothing more than to burn the blasted thing...but father gave me orders not to disturb this room or his possessions in it..." Flavius takes a swig of brandy despite the headache he is feeling. "I'm glad to hear that the house hold is doing well. What about the vineyards down south?"

Abel glances at the beast again. "Master, you could hide it." He the continues. "The vineyards are underperforming, sir. Seems they are still recovering from a drought two seasons ago. Many vines withered, I'm afraid. The vineyards are producing only half of their expected output."

Flavius takes a deeper swig of brandy. "That is...disappointing. Father will NOT be pleased to hear that." He rubs his chin deep in thought, "I could try to buy more land to make up for what we lost..." with a shrug he continues, "And the slave holdings. How is the business faring in side the city. Keep in mind I only allow so much bad news per day."

Abel glances down. "The slave trade is booming, Master. Slave prices are at an all time low, due to a large influx of war captives. As to the Baro holdings, things look good, if that is your thing."

Flavius smiles, finishing off his brandy. "Excellent. At least there is some good news." the weasel leans back in his chair, "You've done pretty good Abel. You are the best slave I can possibly ask for. After breakfast arives feel free to take the day off."

Abel blinks. "Really, sir?"

Flavius nods, "I find it counter productive to work beasts to the bone. You keep an animal well fed, well rested, you can get years more service out of them." Setting the brandy to the side Flavius adds, "Plus like you said, there isn't anything on the agenda today."

Abel nods. "Y..yes sir, Thank you sir!" He looks down. "Sir...despite what others may think, sir, you have a good side, and that is my honest assessment."

Flavius smiles a bit. Lifting himself out of the hated business chair the weasel walks over the squirrel and begins leading him out side the room, "What do you mean a good 'side' I'm 100% good with a dash of mischievousness mixed in." The weasel smiles, "Now, go do something productive, or rather counter productive. Go see the town or something."

Abel nods as he is led out. "Yes sir. When should I return, Master?"

Flavius laughs, "Oh sometime tomorrow. It's your day off after all. As long as lunch is prepared and ready to eat I won't really care." The weasel begins to shut the study door behind the squirrel after practically tossing him outside.

Abel looks around, unsure what to do. After making sure the household servants are in line, he exits to the street.

Flavius leans against the door of the study and breaths a sigh of relief. With the squirrel out of his fur the weasel can eat as much food and drink as much wine as he pleases with out Abel harping on his health. Flavius sniffs the air. There is bacon to be had...