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	<id>https://gswiki-archive.gs-game.uk/index.php?action=history&amp;feed=atom&amp;title=Malinya_%28prime%29%2FBreakfast</id>
	<title>Malinya (prime)/Breakfast - Revision history</title>
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	<updated>2026-11-12T04:18:10Z</updated>
	<subtitle>Revision history for this page on the wiki</subtitle>
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	<entry>
		<id>https://gswiki-archive.gs-game.uk/index.php?title=Malinya_(prime)/Breakfast&amp;diff=10194&amp;oldid=prev</id>
		<title>imported&gt;ECHEAUX at 03:40, 7 February 2023</title>
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		<updated>2023-02-07T03:40:56Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;New page&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;==Breakfast==&lt;br /&gt;
Restday, day 5 of the month Fashanos in the year 5123, 06:00&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:&amp;quot;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.&amp;quot; Chewing a long moment before gazing at his daughter and speaking again. &amp;quot;Tell me again, why aren&amp;#039;t you taken on such missions?&amp;quot; His eyes bore into her with a measure of disappointment, and she barely contains a beleagured sigh.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:&amp;quot;Those just aren&amp;#039;t my orders, father, you know that&amp;quot;, she says, staring into her plate as she idly rearranges her eggs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:&amp;quot;And what are your orders?&amp;quot; he asks, pointedly. &amp;quot;Oh, wait. It&amp;#039;s to, in essence, stand guard at the city gates, yes?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:Giving a slight nod, she reaches hesitantly for her goblet, but quickly returns her attention to her plate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:&amp;quot;And why, again, is that?&amp;quot; After taking another bite, he places his fork on the table, hard. &amp;quot;Why is the daughter of a highly decorated retired Lord Legionnaire on...guard duty?&amp;quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:Mumbling, she responds under her breath, &amp;quot;Because my mother was an Illistimi scholar and...&amp;quot;, she bites off the end of the comment, concluding loudly, &amp;quot;May I please be excused?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:Looking at his daughter sternly, he replies, &amp;quot;You know you aren&amp;#039;t to be excused until I say so.&amp;quot; He picks up his fork and takes another bite. After a moment to chew, he commands, &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re excused.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
: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.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:Upon reaching her room, she perches on the edge of her vanity stool, gazing into the mirror as she mulls over the information. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:&amp;quot;Please let whatever is in store require volunteers&amp;quot;, she says to the weary reflection staring back at her, before reaching for a silver hairbrush. &amp;quot;Just...volunteers...&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:How ever does he always know what is going on still, she wonders.&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>imported&gt;ECHEAUX</name></author>
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