Fren (Fren)

A stocky ungulate with thick muscles for meat and nutritious milk that can be gathered daily.   Some music was playing, in a genre she didn't care for. Rohgar Whimtaker, an New Etruscan artist, the exemplar of the rugged individualist, if his songs were taken at face value.   So his love left him because he wouldn't leave himself emotionally vulnerable, and it was all about his feeling that happiness was just inches away from his grasp. No wonder she didn't like it, in Kagomine, such talk was borderline heresy. Well, perhaps not quite, but certainly any man who thought she'd... That's why I don't like it, it's not feminist enough! And Fren herders, well she owned a Fren cattle ranch, so obviously they held no secrets from her, hardly mysterious or exotic.   "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. How may Aldo's Specialty Groceries help you today?"   "I need Aldo's Specialty Caterers, to be specific, I am receiving a hundred guests, and while I have most of the particulars, I'm short some key ingredients, and at least half a dozen staff."   The man in the immaculate white uniform's eyes widened, and Mikhala almost heard cha-ching going in his brain. Some had joked that Aldo's Fren cuts, the choicest, juiciest, finest in all Eurani, were more expensive than some extortionists, and hardly paid less willingly. But that didn't matter, she and her Sister and the birthday girl's cousins had chipped in an impressive amount for Lusitania Van Pelt's birthday, and since it was only a few weeks after her promotion as Mikhala's own primary deputy, it was also going to be a humdinger for that.   "Will we need an export permit?"   "I'm sorry."   "No, I'm sorry, I saw the Wungli, especially the shoulders, and assumed your party would be in Kagomei."   "Oh, I'm glad I can pass." She lied. She was legally the definition of being Kagomine, if her lineage, or her sister's had somehow become less than 100% Kagomine, the law would change that to mean they were 100% Kagomine. But by marriage, she had connected to foreign holdings in five different Eurani countries, and now was a good time to try to use it for a discount, she judged.   "Where would your accent be from then?"   She wished him luck. "Benevent." She gave him a partial truth, she'd spent the most time there, after all.   He did a double-take. She was much paler than most benevent, for sure. But then, she'd spent so much time indoors, she was equally pale for a Kagomine.   "But that's not where I want the party to be, It'll be at the Electoral Palace of Silas-Saer, on the 37th, I'll need everything to be in place by eighteen-hundred, local time. There is to be a hundred guests, expected sixty or more to be carnivore, ten are live-believers, the rest are phytans."   Aldo, for he was indeed the proprietor, one of the more eligible bachelors in Brescia, active in meat, specialty items, luxury items, sports cars and defence contracts, nodded. "Will you also need security?"   "No, do liaise with Curator Ladislav Kronor for any security permits and clearances."   Aldo shook his head. The security department was run by the museum curator? Unusual, but maybe he just did two jobs. "Should I present the quote to you, for your preliminary approval?"   She read then quote, then looked at him, displeased. "You think I know nothing of how business works in Brescia? This will be a standard contract, with overages not exceeding twenty per cent, if you feel you may exceed this number, please tell me, that I may take my business elsewhere."   Aldo reacted as if struck. "Please, a standard contract? May I ask for a recommendation, then, if you are satisfied with the service?" He wanted to react, had to react, for they were still negotiating, that extra twenty per cent was hardly in his pocket, unless he did very well, or some tornado savaged the staff on the way or some other act of the elements.   "If she is satisfied with the service, I will let you contact the guest of honour, the electoral princess herself."   "And who are you? No Sarn would expect Bresciani rules to hold between a Benevent and a Bresciani."   "Do you have to ask? I am Lucair of Ferrare, I'd qualify in other lands with my other titles, but in this, I expect you'd know me better..." Ferrare had extensive Fren ranches itself, for her to ask for help...   But Aldo already knew, the western half of the country had been hit by a tsunami and was still recovering. He himself had sent aid to those Fren farmers, whose cattle floated just fine, but would die from lack of forage in days. His holdings in the east were doing a killing, prices were 165% normal. And this, this would do them even more good... He only had to pick the least favoured cuts...   "Do you have menus I could peruse?"   "Ah, of course." He sighed inwardly. So not only did she know Bresciani business law, but she probably ran a trattoria, a bresciani catering business, herself. He wanted to slap himself, of course she did, she said she was Lucair Ferrari! Only the oldest, most famous catering business on the planet. Ferrari catering menus had been found marking the founding, and subsequent shifts in the Beneventi language. If she wasn't aware of how catering worked, she'd have underlings who did, for that matter, and should have let them negotiate, so of course, she was aware. He kicked himself mentally, she had steamrolled him from the start. He handed her sample menus.   "Ah, cacio e pepe longthins? That will do for primi. And beer-basted meatballs for the cocktail entree. Secondi will be..." Aldo tensed, fearing she'd mention Inner Filet or some extremely expensive cut, he had many ranches, but even he would have trouble finding a hundred on short notice. "Nine-month Basted Frenner scallopini, with pan-seared tubers and tomatoes." She was letting him partly off the hook! He would do better than break even, with that combo, Frenners weren't doing well right now, they were more popular with Benevent customers, who mostly had bigger fish to fry...   "And for dessert?"   "Black Forest Cake. With thirty-five candles, it is the lady of the palace's trentacinque." Meaning she was coming of age, legally, and probably getting a lot of trust funds. Aldo had inherited a small olive import business, and tended to look down on heirs, but it was a bad habit to get into, when they were handing you a standard contract for a hundred guest to the tune of... One hundred and fifty thousand Eurani Scrip. For a six hour party for six, plus materials, he knew better than to complain.   "I hope all will be to your satisfaction, with your permission, I will start working on this right away."   "Of course, where can I get transportation from here?"   "To Silas?"   "Err, no, first to Auroni City, then back to Ferrare, when in Brescia, one should respond to summons from Bresciani Res."   "Hmm, good luck!" So this princess was important enough she was keeping Mindanao dell'Auro's bunch waiting? Good for her! Aldo couldn't know that if Mindanao heard of the party, he'd try to get him and his invitations... Lusitania was hardly someone they could afford not to cultivate now that she was of age. Mikhala intended to cultivate them, get some emergency assistance for the Fren herders in Ferrare, but to do that, she couldn't appear too desperate, hence why she had tended to this bit of business, almost a plan B at this point: if they play hardball, mention the party, mention it may be cancelled, if the Ferrari still suffer when the 36th comes around... She hated this calculus of lives, but Mindanao respected only those who could play with the abacus and come out ahead. She'd be shocked by how much he respected her, shocked, and perhaps ashamed.