I respected the man’s brilliance. But his methods seemed dishonourable to me, for through such trickery any lie could be framed as truth. And I believe in the Imperium, and the benevolence of the God-Emperor. It was His galaxy, and my task was to enlighten the doubtful by showing His truth, not forging my own. I would fulfil my commission and produce a holo-pict depicting the Imperium’s superiority over the rampaging orks. But it would not be a manufactured tale to suit a narrative. Every shot, moment and encounter would be as real as possible. I would use her true face, not a crafted facsimile.

‘Sir?’

The voice came from the other side of the door. I did not recognise it, though it sounded deferential, if not affectionate.

‘All shut down,’ I murmured, the images folding around me. ‘Yes?’

‘Pardon, sir, but may I enter?’

‘Very well.’

The handle turned but the door did not open. I could hear the voice muttering and felt the shudder as a shoulder was applied to the wood. I had not locked it, but it seemed the door did not fit its frame.

Another shudder, but this time it abruptly swung open, pitching the servant to the floor. He rose swiftly, despite his advanced age, brushing down his lapels and smoothing what remained of his greying hair into place, masking his embarrassment with a look of practised contempt.

‘Ahem,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Forgive the intrusion, Propagandist Simlex. I am Stylee, Governor Dolos’ personal steward. We were supposed to meet outside the château.’

There was reproach in his tone, bordering on impertinence. But his manner was subservient enough, bowing so deeply I feared his face would collide with the floor.

‘My apologies,’ I said. ‘I was anxious to get settled.’

‘I understand, my lord, but this is an old house, and it houses old secrets,’ he replied, his gaze shifting to the power cable running from the seer-skulls’ docking station to the false panel. ‘Who connected your unit?’

‘I did.’

‘I would ask you to refrain from doing so,’ he said. ‘There are… issues incorporating technology into this structure, and such matters are best left to the household staff.’

‘I see. I will know for next time.’

‘Indeed,’ he said, his gaze falling to my hands folded in my lap. ‘You did not… cut yourself?’

‘No. Should I have?’

‘Of course not, sir,’ he replied stiffly. ‘I merely wished to ascertain your safety.’

‘Well, I am quite well,’ I said, offering a smile. ‘Is there anything else with which I might assist you?’

He looked at me as though I were an idiot. I suppose it was an odd question. I was the respected visitor, imbued with authority far beyond my meagre rank. To a servant, my words must have seemed a non sequitur.