"Rococo? Yeah, this isn't rococo," Daniel says disparagingly, turning a glass in his fingers even though it's just about empty. "It's a way more nineties aesthetic. Vivienne Westwood meets Sophia Coppola at the club. Nobody gives a fuck about historical accuracy, they just want to plaster the illusion of high culture and royalty over their party."

Well, nobody gives a fuck except Armand, apparently, for whom that time is a memory rather than a film in an archive. If it is a memory at all: "You know, Louis has made it pretty clear that his grasp on the details of what happened a century ago is tenuous at best. How do you know your memory is any better?" How can he say with surety was the late Byzantine France was really like? Is he too relying on archives to remember? Daniel's eyes narrow interestedly.