The festivities were as he expected. Despite the air of faux aristocracy the mages tried to associate with themselves, there was a boorish quality to the atmosphere, and his keen eyes detected more than a few open displays of magic from the increasingly drunk students. Malcador hid a smirk when Voltivar the Grey, a well-to-do master wizard snuffed out the flames of a bright apprentice with a deft flow of magic, and pulled him by his ear out of the Magisterium. A few of the students danced together, but most were content to eat or speak in their cliques, a few students laughing uproariously. He wasn't put off by the state of affairs, it was actually quite entertaining. Even nobility were not as noble as they pretended to be, but the constant anecdoche of magician apprentices was something he could do more without. 

In the corner he saw Louis DuPont, an apprentice that ran from his brettonian homeland, not too keen on being given to the Lady and disappear without a trace as all males with the talent were. The Amber apprentice smiled wondrously with his light blonde hair and fair features as he joked with Morgan, a red headed apprentice from Wissenland with a penchant for death magic, but with too much apprehension to embrace it. Brown haired Ianara of the Light Order danced just to the point of scandalousness with Voltivar's prized pupil, Ailin, while the old codgers back was turned. Scandalous because, whilst not a master, she was no longer an apprentice either. 

A few uncouth Chamon lads were trading insults with a pair of Bright apprentices who had gone over to refill their wine cups. Tall Barten of the Amethyst awkwardly walked around, clearly without a place or group to sit, but still enjoying the warm rolls enough to not complain too much. Across the way, Malcador spotted Friedrich, Hofferman, and Gustav. They were chatting with one another and a pair of girls he recognized as Jestain and Malerie, both from the Amber order. Malcador briefly had the idea to go over there and ruin his friends chances with them so they wouldn't be too distracted for tonight, and smoothly went to grab a cup of wine before he collided with something. Immediately he realized it was both solid, yet comfortably soft, and a flash of golden hair obscured his vision before he realized it was a woman. 

An unfairly gorgeous woman. 

He snatched the apple out of the air as she impressively caught everything on her plate before it became bedlam, and he held out the fruit for her to take in a gentlemanly fashion. She whipped around at him with what he thought was petulant indignation for a moment, before she saw him present the apple to her, and the woman studied his face. Usually he was far more smooth, but in such close proximity and unprepared, he caught the full brunt of her beauty, not to mention an impeccable view of her decolletage. Intellectually, he realized she was studying him because she also found him fetching, but every lout knew that wasn't enough when it came to flirting. 

"Sorry I'm in your way, I've a bad habit of being somewhere I shouldn't," He said with a sly grin, tossing the apple in the air briefly before holding it out again.  

"No harm," She said, plucking the apple out of his hand. "I guess we have that in common, herr..." 

Her dress was beautiful, the blouse embroidered with flower motifs and leaving little to the imagination, her dress clinging to her shapely legs. The green astride her shoulders gave her much needed modesty, or else a master might kick her out as well. He fixed his hair, and absently realized she was a few years older than him. "Zauberhaft, but you can call me Malcador. I haven't seen you here, before." 

"Is that so surprising?" She asked, and he had to concede the point. He only knew a handful of people out of the thousands inducted. There were hundreds at this party he had either never seen before or had only seen in passing and with no name attached. 

Malcador chuckled, and gave her a small bow. "Don't think I'm too forward, but I was present when Lucrezzia Belladonna visited the Colleges two summers ago, and as far as I'm concerned, next to you she looks like the Duchess of Parravon." He said, and she snorted a laugh. He gave an insouciant grin that promised fun. "So yes, I'm surprised." 

He detected a small flush of her cheeks and when she failed to hide a smile, his grin deepened, but she glanced behind her shoulder for a moment. "Well Malcador," She placed a hand on his arm, and he felt a spark where her fingers touched. "I've certainly bumped into less pleasant men, but I have to go."  

"I can't even buy you a drink?" He asked as she glided passed. 

"It's free!" She laughed. 

"I can't even get your name!?" He called, but she was already sashaying away. He realized with undisguised pain that she was giving him a show with her hips as she exited. When she was gone, he groaned and took that wine he had yet to grab. Malcador would try and sate his desires in town, but he knew it was a temporary thing. He would be thinking about her all bloody week! He downed the wine in two, massive gulps, and went to find a chair. 

"Sigmar's balls..."