Tomas spent the next four days recovering.
The academy healer visited the dormitory each morning and checked his eyes, pulse, and spiritual force.
The first day, Tomas complained of headaches.
The second, he slept through breakfast.
By the third, he could sense mana without panicking.
The tonic’s effects were fading.
The seller was never found.
Tomas refused to identify him.
Arin did not ask again.
Some information had a price too high to collect.
On the seventh day, the southern market opened.
The academy announced it with three bells and a notice posted beside every dormitory.
AUTHORIZED APPRENTICE MARKET.
PURCHASES MUST BE REGISTERED.
NO DUELS.
NO CURSES.
NO LIVING SPECIMENS.
NO UNSEALED POTIONS.
Arin copied the notice into his notebook.
The rule against living specimens had been underlined twice.
He decided not to ask why.
The market occupied the entire southern courtyard.
Temporary stalls stood beneath canvas awnings, each marked with a colored flag.
Blue for writing supplies.
Green for herbs and potion ingredients.
Silver for tools and laboratory equipment.
Black for spell models and magical materials.
Red for food.
The crowd was larger than Arin expected.
Apprentices pushed between the stalls, bargaining loudly.
Senior students moved in groups, followed by younger apprentices carrying bags.
Several instructors watched from the edges of the courtyard.
The market was not merely a place to buy things.
It was a second academy.
People exchanged information, favors, warnings, and reputation.
Arin checked his money.
Four copper coins.
Two from Corven.
Two saved from Ilyra’s first payment.
He needed paper, food, and a replacement pencil.
He also wanted to inspect spell models.
Wanting and needing were separate categories.
He began with the blue stalls.
Paper prices had increased since his last visit.
The vendor blamed rain and delivery delays.
Arin did not believe him, but he had no way to prove it.
He bought one packet of rough paper for two copper coins.
Then he visited the writing tools.
A short pencil cost one copper.
A worn quill cost half.
Arin chose the quill.
The vendor gave him a suspicious look.
“It is cracked.” “Where?” “Near the tip.” Arin examined it.
The crack was shallow, but the quill could still be used.
“I will pay one quarter.” “Half.” “One quarter.” “It is already cheap.” “It is already damaged.” The vendor sighed.
“Fine.” Arin paid.
His remaining money was one and a quarter copper.
He kept the quarter coin in a separate pocket.
A reserve inside a reserve.
At the food stalls, he bought a small bag of dried fruit and divided it into four portions.
Tomas was still recovering.
Pell had no money.
Daren had been saving his coins to send a letter home.
Food was more useful when shared.
The green stalls were crowded with apprentices searching for cheap ingredients.
Arin noticed that several vendors used the same labels as Herb Hall, but their storage conditions were worse.
Moonmint sat in direct sunlight.
Redroot was piled beside damp moss.
A tray of pale mushrooms had been placed near a heat-producing crystal.
Arin kept walking.
He had no authority here.
Correcting every vendor would only make him unpopular.
The black stalls were quieter.
Spell models were expensive.
The cheapest one was a cracked plate marked with a faded symbol.
“Basic model,” said the vendor.
“One silver.” Arin picked it up.
The plate was made of dull metal, and the main channel had been damaged near the outer boundary.
“It is broken.” “It is old.” “The channel is broken.” “It can still be repaired.” “Then repair it.” The vendor smiled.
“I am selling it as-is.” “One copper.” “One silver.” “It cannot cast.” “It can be studied.” “Then you are selling knowledge, not a functioning model.” The vendor’s smile disappeared.
“Move along.” Arin placed the plate back on the table.
He had no intention of paying a silver for something that could not be used.
At the next stall, an elderly apprentice sold damaged rune plates, broken tools, and fragments of magical equipment.
The items were arranged without labels.
Some were useless.
Some were dangerous.
One small black stone hummed faintly when Arin moved near it.
He did not touch it.
A cracked plate caught his attention.
Unlike the earlier model, this one had a complete central structure.
One outer channel was damaged, but the damage was clean and narrow.
“How much?” Arin asked.
The elderly apprentice looked at him.
“You are Grade One.” “Yes.” “You cannot use it.” “I may still study it.” “Then you understand its value.” “I understand that it is damaged.” The apprentice gave a dry laugh.
“What would you pay?” Arin examined the plate more closely.
The metal held a trace of spiritual force.
The damage had not erased the channel.
It had interrupted it.
“How much?” “One copper.” Arin considered.
One copper was most of his remaining money.
The plate might be useless.
It might also reveal how spell structures were assembled.
He looked at the damaged channel again.
It reminded him of a broken circuit board.
If part of the path remained intact, perhaps the missing section could be reconstructed by comparing it with a complete model.
He paid.
The elderly apprentice wrapped the plate in cloth.
“Do not activate it.” “I will not.” “Do not connect spiritual force to it.” “I will not.” “Do not heat it, carve it, scratch it, dissolve it, or place mana crystals near it.” Arin looked up.
“Has someone done those things?” “Many people.” “What happened?” “Mostly, they stopped asking questions.” Arin placed the wrapped plate inside his bag.
The market continued around him.
At a stall near the wall, a young noble apprentice was examining a small gray stone.
Arin recognized her.
Ilyra Veyne.
She saw him almost immediately.
“You bought a damaged model.” “Yes.” “Why?” “To study it.” “It cannot be used.” “That is why it is affordable.” Ilyra looked at the bag.
“How much?” “One copper.” “You spent one of your remaining coins on broken equipment?” “Yes.” “Why not buy food?” “I did.” “More food.” “I bought enough.” “For yourself?” “For four people.” Her eyes moved toward the dried fruit bag.
“You share supplies with your roommates?” “Sometimes.” “That is inefficient.” “It reduces conflict.” “Conflict can be useful.” “So can peace.” Ilyra examined the cracked plate through the cloth.
“Do you know what it is?” “No.” “Then you bought it without understanding it.” “Yes.” “That is unlike you.” “I understand enough to know it is damaged.” Ilyra looked amused.
“Did you come here for anything else?” “Paper.” “Your notes?” “Among other things.” She reached into her purse and removed a small bundle of clean parchment.
“Take these.” Arin did not accept them.
“Why?” “They are unnecessary to me.” “Then why offer them?” “I have too much.” “That does not explain the exchange.” “I am not asking for anything.” “That makes it more suspicious.” Ilyra’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you suspect every gift?” “Most gifts are delayed transactions.” “And this one?” “I do not know yet.” She held out the parchment.
“It is payment for the next three sets of notes.” “The agreement was one silver for ten sets.” “This is not payment.
It is an advance.” “Then I should receive it after completing the work.” “You are difficult.” “Yes.” Ilyra placed the parchment on the table.
“Take it or leave it.” Arin looked at the sheets.
High-quality parchment was expensive.
It would make his records clearer and last longer.
He also knew that accepting it would make the arrangement more valuable to Ilyra.
A stronger interface required clearer boundaries.
“I will accept it as payment for three completed sets.” “You have not completed them.” “Then keep it until I do.” Ilyra stared at him.
Then she smiled.
“Very well.” She gathered the parchment and placed it inside her folder.
“Tomorrow, bring the first three.” “I will.” She walked away.
Arin watched her leave.
Their negotiations were becoming easier.
That did not mean they were becoming safer.
At the far edge of the market, a crowd had gathered around a stall selling magical curiosities.
A young apprentice held up a black glass bead.
“This is a spirit-seeing crystal.
It can reveal hidden talent.” “Does it work?” someone asked.
“Of course.” “How much?” “One silver.” Arin kept walking.
The bead was ordinary glass.
He could see the reflection of the market in its surface.
Another stall sold a red powder that supposedly increased spiritual force.
The vendor promised immediate results.
Arin did not approach.
He had already seen what shortcuts could do.
Near the exit, he found a small repair stall operated by Joren.
Joren recognized the wrapped plate.
“You bought that?” “Yes.” “Why?” “It may contain a usable fragment.” “It is a broken Practice Plate.” “What does it practice?” Joren shrugged.
“Who knows?
The model was damaged before I bought it.” “How much do you charge for repairs?” “For that?” “Yes.” Joren examined the plate through the cloth.
“I cannot repair the spell structure.” “I did not ask you to.” “Then what do you want?” “I need a fine wire, a magnifying lens, and a small piece of sealing wax.” Joren studied him.
“You are going to tamper with it.” “I am going to inspect it.” “That is what tampering means when people use polite words.” “How much?” “One copper.” “I have no copper.” Joren laughed.
“You spent it on the plate.” “Yes.” “What can you offer?” Arin looked at the stall.
Several damaged tools had been placed in a careless pile.
“I can sort your repair queue.” Joren considered.
“Today?” “Now.” Arin worked for nearly an hour.
He separated items by type, estimated the required repair time, and marked the dangerous pieces with charcoal.
Joren gave him the wire and wax.
The lens was too expensive to borrow.
“Return the wire,” Joren said.
“I will.” At the dormitory, Arin placed the cracked plate on his desk.
He did not activate it.
He simply examined it through the borrowed wire’s reflection and compared its visible channel to the Cleanse model from class.
The structures were similar.
Not identical.
The central mark was smaller.
The guiding channels divided at a different angle.
The outer boundary had been designed to redirect energy rather than release it.
Arin drew both diagrams side by side.
Then he noticed something.
The damage on the cracked plate did not look random.
The outer channel had been cut cleanly.
Someone had deliberately removed part of the model.
He touched the edge of the break.
A faint trace of spiritual force remained there.
The plate had not failed from age.
It had been interrupted.
Arin wrote: Practice Plate.
Outer channel deliberately severed.
Possible reason: safety lock, incomplete model, or failed modification.
Do not activate.
Daren leaned over the table.
“What is it?” “I do not know.” “Then why did you buy it?” “Because now I can ask a better question.” Arin carefully wrapped the plate again.
The market had cost him most of his money.
In exchange, he had gained paper, a quill, food, and a damaged spell model.
Not an impressive haul.
But each item had a purpose.
He opened Framework Zero and added a new line: Resources should increase understanding, not merely comfort.
Outside, the market bells rang for closing.
Apprentices hurried through the gates with their purchases.
The academy swallowed the noise.
Arin placed the cracked plate beneath his bed.
He would study it only when he understood how to do so safely.
For now, the broken model was not a spell.
It was a question.
That made it valuable.