‘Yeah. But as a preventative measure. I’ve never actually seen it penetrate the bark, let alone reach the upper levels. And those strange root-tendril things? Where in the Throne’s name did they come from?’ The footman glanced to the wall, stroking his fingers across the bark as though petting a loyal hound. ‘I think the château is dead,’ he murmured.

Stylee, who was swigging on the flask, nearly choked.

‘It should have blossomed by now,’ the man said, continuing over Stylee’s spluttering.

‘It did blossom,’ Stylee snapped. ‘Ask anyone.’

‘I know. I was on the roof the night before gluing on the flowers, remember?’

‘It’s those damn orks,’ Stylee spat. ‘This disease is one of their tricks. But you wait. Once the seasons shift, this old place will recover. It’s stood for thousands of years, it’s not falling now to some greenskin filth.’

The third man muttered something. Kikazar struggled to capture the words, but Stylee bent his head, glaring at the man.

‘What did you just say?’

The footman sighed, glaring back and mulling over whether to repeat his words. In the end, he snatched the flask out of Stylee’s outstretched hand, taking a swig before replying.

‘I said, it ain’t the greenskins who did this. It’s those pointy-eared freaks that Dolos fawns over. The aeldari.’

‘You watch your tone!’ Stylee warned. ‘The governor will not be addressed in that manner.’

The man looked around. ‘I don’t see her here,’ he said. ‘And you know I’m right. The orks have been there for years in some fashion. This’ – he nodded to the pox-marked wall – ‘only began after she started cosying up to those dirty aeldari witches. Least the orks are honest monsters, pure and simple. But those degenerate freaks strut around like they’re human. I still can’t believe she let them attend a Harvest Banquet. Sickened me, it did.’

‘Be silent!’

‘Tell me I’m wrong?’ the man said, shrugging. ‘Tell me you think it was right they set foot on our planet? That’s what’s caused this, their foul magicks.’

Stylee just stared at him, his face hidden from frame.

‘The governor’s job is complex,’ he said eventually. ‘Sometimes diplomacy requires dealing with parties one might prefer to steer clear of, like the aeldari.’

‘Steer clear of?’ the man sneered. ‘Come off it. I’ve seen those fancy robes she hides in the back of her dresser, and that creepy plant she keeps on her table. Gifts from them.’

‘Gifts! What would you expect a planetary governor to do when presented with gifts from foreign dignitaries?’

‘Burn them. Not eat their food and play dress-up in aeldari clothes,’ the footman replied. ‘Do you know what I think? I think she wants to be one of them. I bet she’ll be getting her ears tapered next. Damn xenos-lover.’