Malinya (prime)/Breakfast

Breakfast

Restday, day 5 of the month Fashanos in the year 5123, 06:00

"Hearsay has it that...be a good girl and pass me the salt, Malinya...that a patrol has set out on assignment to gather intelligence about an airship." Chewing a long moment before gazing at his daughter and speaking again. "Tell me again, why aren't you taken on such missions?" His eyes bore into her with a measure of disappointment, and she barely contains a beleagured sigh.

"Those just aren't my orders, father, you know that", she says, staring into her plate as she idly rearranges her eggs.

"And what are your orders?" he asks, pointedly. "Oh, wait. It's to, in essence, stand guard at the city gates, yes?"

Giving a slight nod, she reaches hesitantly for her goblet, but quickly returns her attention to her plate.

"And why, again, is that?" After taking another bite, he places his fork on the table, hard. "Why is the daughter of a highly decorated retired Lord Legionnaire on...guard duty?"

Mumbling, she responds under her breath, "Because my mother was an Illistimi scholar and...", she bites off the end of the comment, concluding loudly, "May I please be excused?"

Looking at his daughter sternly, he replies, "You know you aren't to be excused until I say so." He picks up his fork and takes another bite. After a moment to chew, he commands, "You're excused."

With a nod of deference to her father, she stands, leaving her breakfast half touched and the dishware positioned precisely as expected, and quietly slips from the table.

Upon reaching her room, she perches on the edge of her vanity stool, gazing into the mirror as she mulls over the information.

"Please let whatever is in store require volunteers", she says to the weary reflection staring back at her, before reaching for a silver hairbrush. "Just...volunteers..."

How ever does he always know what is going on still, she wonders.