With Jahith and Samad's motives gnawing at him, Khaled trudged through the library halls, his mind churning. He replayed the summoning ritual in his head, the intricate sigils etched on the summoning circle flashing before his eyes. 'Maybe I did miss something,' he thought, worry gnawing at his gut. 'But those sigils... I checked them thrice.' A sliver of doubt remained. 'Did they tamper with the ritual somehow? Or was it something else entirely?'

Lost in contemplation, Khaled emerged from the hushed reverence of the library into a vibrant scene. The breakfast hall buzzed with a lively energy. The air thrummed with the low murmur of conversation in various Kabilian dialects, punctuated by the rhythmic clinking of ceramic bowls against wooden spoons. Gone were the towering shelves that lined the library walls, replaced by a more social atmosphere. Low wooden tables, crafted from a light, honey-colored wood, nestled amidst plush futons in shades of pale green and saffron. Sunlight streamed through skylights overhead, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow that accentuated the worn textures of the cushions and the geometric patterns woven into the fabric.

He opted for a seat at a corner table, the morning light illuminating him in a warm spotlight. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, a familiar companion after a long night spent poring over ancient texts by flickering candlelight. The scent of frying flatbreads and simmering stews wafted through the air, further amplifying his growling stomach. Reaching into his worn canvas satchel, he retrieved a well-worn clay bowl – a staple utensil not only for himself, but for the average Kabilian citizen. Forget the ornately carved wooden spoons and gleaming silver goblets reserved for the wealthy. This humble bowl, with its smooth, cool surface worn from years of use, would hold his breakfast just as well. "This may not be a silver goblet, but it'll do the job," he thought with a wry smile.

Next came a round loaf of light, sesame-speckled flatbread. The flatbread, known as "Khobz," was still warm from the communal oven. With practiced ease, Khaled tore off a piece, the soft, yielding texture a welcome contrast to the hard, crusty bread he was used to at home. He meticulously tore the flatbread into bite-sized squares, each one roughly the size of a playing card. Each square landed with a soft thud in the bowl, the gentle sound barely audible amidst the lively chatter around him. This methodical process, born not of luxury but of respect for his meager provisions, ensured he savored every morsel, extracting the most nourishment from each bite.

Once the bowl was filled with bread squares, he added a generous scoop of a thick, savory stew. This stew, known as "Lablebi," was a staple breakfast for most Kabilians. Made with plump chickpeas simmered in a rich broth of garlic, cumin, and olive oil, it boasted a hearty texture and a warm, comforting flavor. Unlike the elaborate stews served in the noble houses, Khaled's lablebi had a rustic charm – the chickpeas nestled in a golden broth, flecked with fresh herbs and a generous drizzle of olive oil. Hot water, drawn from a nearby clay jug adorned with intricate geometric patterns, followed, its steam rising in a wispy cloud that danced across his face, momentarily clearing the sleep from his eyes.

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The final touch was a fiery red spice blend, a local favorite named "Harissa." 'Just a pinch,' he thought, knowing the fiery spice blend could easily overpower the dish. This potent concoction, made from chilies, garlic, and a secret blend of spices, promised to add a spicy kick to the meal, a welcome change from the blandness he might otherwise expect. Khled then borught out two simple wooden spoons and put them next to his bowl. One, slightly larger with a wider bowl, was for scooping; the other, smaller and more slender, was for stirring. With practiced efficiency, he began to mix the contents, transforming the bowl into a vibrant mosaic of color and texture. The flatbread softened in the hot water, becoming a perfect vehicle for scooping up the flavorful chickpeas and the rich broth. As he stirred, the aroma of the cumin and garlic in the lablebi rose, a warm and inviting scent that filled his nostrils and promised a burst of flavor with each bite. It wasn't a feast for the nobles, but it was a breakfast packed with essential nutrients, a testament to the resourcefulness of Kabila's people. The Lablebi, a humble chickpea stew, provided protein and fiber; the Khobz, a source of carbohydrates; and the harissa, a potent blend of spices that not only added flavor but also held medicinal properties. It was a simple yet satisfying breakfast that would fuel him for his morning studies.

The first satisfying spoonful of lablebi warmed Khaled from the inside out. The chickpeas, perfectly cooked through and seasoned with a depth of flavor that belied its simplicity, were a delightful contrast to the soft, chewy squares of khobz. Each bite was a comforting blend of textures and tastes, the cumin and garlic offering a savory warmth that was accentuated by the occasional fiery burst of harissa. He closed his eyes momentarily, savoring the familiar flavors that brought back memories of countless breakfasts shared with his family back home.

A pang of envy, sharp and unwelcome, pierced through his contentment. He knew Heni, at this very moment, was likely indulging in a far more extravagant breakfast spread in the opulent dining halls reserved for upper-class students. Delicate pastries, perhaps, drizzled with the finest honey imported from across the continent, or exotic fruits most had only heard rumors of. The thought of such luxuries, coupled with Heni's smug demeanor and easy entitlement, fueled a simmering envy within Khaled. It was a stark reminder of the vast gulf that separated their worlds.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. Each bite of lablebi fueled his determination. He wouldn't let his background hold him back. He would prove himself worthy of his place at the Academy, not through wealth or privilege, but through his dedication and hard work.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Khaled glanced around the bustling hall. Students from all walks of life filled the room, each with their own breakfast of choice. A group of boisterous young men at a nearby table devoured slabs of grilled meat, their laughter echoing through the hall.