Eran Thouris was in her element. Her mind raced, the blood pounded in her veins and she felt as if an electric current were running over her scales.

“This tea is… quite… adequate.”

Seated across from her, the representative of the Deep Coral Conglomerate, Lissa, tried to conceal her pleasure after imbibing the fine drink.

“You might change your mind when I tell you how much it costs.”

She made a gesture with her left hand, a flickering of fingers, and her adversary’s eyes widened.

“That’s… less than I would have expected.”

“If I’m not mistaken, it’s almost half of what your Conglomerate charges for its patented tea blend, is it not?”

“Less than half,” Lissa grated.

“Oh my. I imagine the introduction of this tea to the market will collapse your sales precipitously.”

“Are you suggesting this… swill… is better than our tea?!” Lissa demanded.

“Of course not. It doesn’t quite achieve the same depth of flavour, and the Deep Coral blend is famed throughout Pangera for its rich aroma. This tea gets close, but doesn’t quite match it.”

She smiled and took a deep sip.

“Which is why it's half the price.”

“You can’t really believe that our customers will abandon us for this, inferior, monster-created leaf,” Lissa scoffed, but she didn’t quite have the right amount of energy behind it.

They would, of course they would. The Colony’s tea didn’t quite measure up in terms of quality, but they made so much of the stuff. In this instance, Satrap Umizan had been more than happy to undercut the market.

“Deep Coral have had it too good for too long!” he’d declared, radiating smug energy.

Now, watching their representative, Lissa, squirm, she shared his satisfaction.

~~~

“Do they really put this together without tools?”

“In some ways, being a monster is an advantage,” Eran informed the Flowing Wave Conglomerate representative, Terraz. “You can see how they have mutated and evolved themselves to excel at a given task.”

Before them, a carver was demonstrating the way the Colony made most of their furniture. At present, the ant was processing the raw wood, using her forelegs and mandibles to manipulate and make extremely precise cuts.

“It appears the ant is doing most of its measuring by eye.”

“Her measuring.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Market testing had revealed it was important that their customers not refer to the ants as ‘it’. Such terminology ‘otherised’ the Colony, making them seem cold and more monstrous.

Terraz rolled his eyes, perfectly aware of what she was attempting to do.

“Her measuring, if you must.”

“Well, let’s ask.”

Nearby, a mage was stationed for this very purpose, and the two approached him. They relayed their question, and the mage then turned to the crafts-ant to get an answer.

“Honoured crafter Carpentant says she is using her antennae and forelegs for measuring purposes.”

The ant in question turned to them and extended her front leg, allowing Terraz to lean forward and inspect it.

“Are these… markings?” he wondered.

Along the inside of the leg were evenly spaced marks running up to a metre long.

“It takes a trivial amount of evolutionary energy for the carvers to maintain a permanent ruler on their legs,” the mage continued her translation. “Early on, the Colony realised the importance of standard measurements.”

Carpentant then turned to the wood once more and indicated something, making swift motions with her legs and antennae.

“And now she is demonstrating how, after measuring, she will mark the wood with pheromones to record where to cut. With skillful application, the scent trails can be made exceedingly thin, perfect for precise cutting.”

Theraz nodded to himself, impressed.

“It seems that at some point, tools will be necessary. Crafting high-quality furniture requires extremely precise cutting, after all.”

Carpentant paused as the mage relayed the message, then grasped the beam of wood before her in both forelegs. In one delicate motion, she angled her head and made a smooth, slow cut. With one of her middle legs, she seized the offcut and held it out to the representative to take.

He reached out and took it, looking down at a sheet of wood so thin and delicate he could see through it.

“Any further questions?” Eran Thouris asked with a small smile.

~~~

“Do you really expect me to believe that a species of monster is capable of creating fine cuisine?” a chef belonging to the Swift River Conglomerate scoffed. “They eat Biomass, and I’m fairly sure they don’t take the time to cook it.”

There was a round of snide laughter from the gathered traders and cooks. Each of them was tasked with either sourcing or preparing the foodstuffs for the wealthy conglomerates. It was predictable to Eran Thouris that they would object to eating food prepared by monsters. She stepped forward.

“Obviously, most members of the Colony eat Biomass, in the main. However, an interesting thing occurred when they began to mix with other peoples. The ants developed a taste for certain foods, initially as a treat they offered to their Queens, which then spread throughout the population. This started mainly with the drinking of tea, but has now widened to include a range of biscuits and cakes, which we have offered here for you.”

The ant bakers had been extremely fussy and reluctant to work with ingredients that had been stuffed in the hull of a ship for several days. Freshness was a core element in their philosophy, apparently. Nevertheless, they had toiled away and delivered a slew of fine baked goods, artfully decorated with images of their beloved Queens, and Anthony.

She knew these traders would be unable to resist the offerings once they’d had a taste, she just needed to break down the barriers preventing them from attempting it. Before them was a long and wide table, laden with inviting food prepared by the Colony’s finest bakers. She stepped forward, lifting a small, bite sized offering, and popped it into her mouth.

The fluffiness of the cake, the richness of the cream, the perfect blend of sour and sweet within the apricot jam, all capped off with bursts of freshness from perfectly sliced chunks of fresh strawberry. It was exceedingly good, and she had no trouble showing her appreciation on her face. She took up another one and offered it to the loud chef from earlier.

“You have your pride as an artisan, which is well earned and widely respected,” she said, buttering him up, “surely you aren’t intimidated by something prepared by a monster?”

She’d backed him into a corner, and he knew it. His eyes narrowed, but nonetheless, he reached out to take hold of the cake. The moment his fingers touched it, she knew it was over.

This trip was going to be so profitable.