To Emmaline’s great relief Albrecht was out when she returned. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time she had come back to the tower drunk, but she was pleased to be spared his anger or his advances. Heading up to her master laboratory she unlocked the potion room and went in. The room was filled with vials of every imaginable shape. Some were in delicate crystal balls, others in recorked wine bottles, some were in vessels hammered out of inert metals or fashioned from painted Tilean pottery. There were no labels but she knew what a few of them did. Lifting an old brandy bottle from the shelf she took a long swig, the surprisingly sweet liquid dancing over her tongue. Immediately some of the fog of wine began to dissipate. She collected a few other potions and stuffed them into her pouch before heading downstairs in time to hear a knock at the door. For a moment she froze, worried that Albrecht might have returned but then rationalized that he was unlikely to knock at the door of his own tower. She pulled the door open and tugged Malcador in, a little charmed to see he had brought alchemical equipment. What did he think the Gold College did? Well maybe he just thought she was a particularly poor representative of the Alchemical College.


“Fancy,” Malcador observed, looking around the relatively luxurious tower, his eyes lingering on some of the more sybaritic artwork that Albrecht hung on the walls. The Gold College was fabulously wealthy and though much of that wealth and though ALbrecht somehow managed to be perpetually skint his tower was still impressive.

“It isn’t much, but it isn’t mine,” Emmaline replied with a snicker and then grabbed Malcador’s hand and led him down the stairs to her workspace. The basement lab wasn’t quite as impressive as Albrecht’s but it was very well stocked by any standards. Emmaline flopped onto a couch, and lay bonelessly. The potion she had imbibed had rid her of the worst of the wine’s effects but she was still pleasantly warm and tingly. 


“Ok so basically your project has to be something that reflects on your college… I know Borvis created some kind of new charcoal or something,” Malcador suggested. Emmaline made a disinterested sound. She had met Borvis Gerkel once and had disliked the fat apprentice immediately.

“Can’t we do something more fun?” Emmaline implored, batting her eyelashes at Malcador.

“I guess we could do some kind of enchantment, I know a little bit but…”

Emmaline sprang to her feet at the mention of enchantments. She ran upstairs and returned a moment with a heavy tome bound in leather. An ornate key plate was built into the front cover. Emmaline pulled a pin from her hair and spent a few moments working the lock until it clicked open. Triumphant she laid it on the table between them. Malcador turned the pages and whistled.

“This is pretty advanced stuff,” he admitted, a finger following the flowing script inside.

“Is your master ok with you using it?” he asked.

“Totally fine,” Emmaline breezed with a toss of her head.

“I mean, it is just the fact that you had to pick the lock to get in suggests…”

“Oh please, if it was meant to keep people out it would have a WAY better lock,” Emmaline rationalized.

“Brechtnow’s Cantrip for the Manipulation of Fate…” Emmaline read, leaning close to see the page Malcador had just turned, surreptitiously pressing a full breast against his arm.