Describing my relationship with Count Hassimir Fenring is a challenge. He has always been a constant presence in my life, almost like a close and beloved uncle, yet I have never shared even a casual conversation with the man.

I know that his mother was of the Sisterhood and served as a wet nurse to both him and my father. Perhaps it was inevitable that their lives would be closely intertwined as they experienced many milestones together.

It's easy to see how a special kind of bond could form between two boys in such a situation—a bond that allows one to ask the unaskable of the other and to have it done without hesitation.

It is strange, then, that for someone who has been such a ubiquitous figure in my life, most of what I know of Count Fenring is what I have gleaned in parlors and at court. That his analytical cunning rivals the Mentats, his martial prowess rivals the Swordmasters, and his cruelty rivals my father's.

Lord Baron,

We must prepare for the worst. The Engineering Corps has not yet submitted its final report, but it seems inevitable that the Windsack Refinery will be declared beyond repair.

While it must be clear to all involved that the Duke's men, not our own, were responsible for the sabotage. It is also clear that Count Fenring will lay the blame upon House Harkonnen to injure us both financially and reputationally. You may thank your thick-headed nephew, Glossu, for this outcome.

In his eagerness to impress you, Glossu failed to investigate the true ownership of the business he chose to destroy. While the Moonfish industry is indeed native to Caladan and closely tied to Atreides' interests, it is also linked to Count Hassimir Fenring. As it turns out, nearly a third of the Fenring fortune is connected to Moonfish—or was until your nephew destroyed the entire crop.

Now, the Beast’s folly will become our burden. Fenring will undoubtedly increase our spice quotas to compensate for an unmanageable shortfall, and none of our usual schemes will provide a remedy.