I glanced to Stylee. He held a razored knife, and was poised to cut into a cake with suspiciously iridescent icing. The lilac colour was a little too reminiscent of the indigenous insects for my comfort, particularly given the decorative membranes, and the way the cake undulated was rather disconcerting.

The governor drained her glass, motioning for one of the silent footmen to replenish her.

I did not wish to risk offence by excusing myself, but I was desperate to greet the returning pilots, and finally meet Flight Commander Shard. Caught between fear and duty, I felt paralysed, and could only stare as the knife sank into the cake.

Something skuttled from the opening, disappearing under the table. That clinched it.

‘Governor Dolos, I cannot thank you enough for this delightful repast,’ I said, bowing my head. ‘But I have just received word that our pilots have returned.’

‘Yes, they are always doing that,’ she slurred, gesturing with the glass and splashing wine over the attending footman. To his credit he did not react, his gaze fixed ahead as the liquid dripped from his chin.

‘One has to ask why of course,’ she continued, readjusting her lopsided headdress. ‘So much back and forth. Rearming and refuelling. Poisoning my estate and crippling my planet’s industry, just so they can go out and do it all over again. Why? Just send the Guardsmen in. There’s a finite number of orks – it isn’t as though they sprout out of the ground.’

‘Quite so,’ I nodded. ‘However, it is my sworn duty to chronicle the conflict. Much as I would prefer to remain here, I must respectfully ask your leave.’

I bowed again. It was awkward whilst sitting, but preferable to maintaining eye contact. When I raised my head, she was still intent on me, though with her mask lopsided it was difficult to discern her expression.

‘You’re leaving now?’ she said. ‘In the middle of dinner?’

‘Believe me, I would prefer your company to fraternising with the grunts,’ I said, ensuring a hint of disdain crept into my voice. ‘And I would never seek to depart without your permission. But before I left Hedon I promised Planetary Governor Zanwich that I would dedicate every spare moment to this project, and–’

‘You spoke to Governor Zanwich?’ She frowned, the slur suddenly absent. ‘Why in the God-Emperor’s name were you granted an audience? The man is practically a recluse. I haven’t seen him in years.’

‘It was brief, and only due to our family’s connection.’ I shrugged. ‘Still, it was a great honour.’

She did not reply, though I noted Stylee had set the knife down, his expression darting between us.

‘You are related to Governor Zanwich?’ she said, incredulous.