It was still dark outside as Askatla finished her yoghurt and set the bowl in the sink. Slicing a bánh mì open lengthwise, she spread a rich pâté grand-mère on the bottom part followed by a butter and egg spread on the top. Both softened on contact with the bread, still warm from the baker’s boy’s thermal bag when he dropped it off as he did early every morning. Waking before the sun was not an abnormality this time of year, but in general, there was at least the hint of solar glow in the east by the time she started preparing breakfast, a habit she found therapeutic given the stressful events of late. Knowing that Oeuf would be picking her up soon, she prepared an additional sandwich for his breakfast. A glance at the clock showed the hands fighting for space between the four and five. While her father had told her there would be a Commission meeting, the purpose of which she knew to be more about optics and cementing the implementation of his plan as established fact before his political opponents could make a move than sharing new information, she had not yet been briefed on the…