Malcador believed he was dead for a good, long moment. The finality of his last fall weighed on him. However, as soon as he realized Morr had not taken him to the realm of the dead, he bolted upright, a surge of spiteful energy rushing through him. 

"That's it!" He cried, coins sliding off of him like raindrops. "I'm finished! Nothing is worse this nightmare!" He brushed his princely apparel, certain his knee was bleeding and his face ruddied from the elements, but still more concerned with his handsome image. Even without Emmaline there, he was a vain man. He gestured to the left. "Not the gold!" He gestured to the right. "Not the prestige!" He turned around. "Not even-!" 

Emmaline looked at him, her big blue eyes shining and her full lips in a pout. Malcador immediately deflated, knowing he would do it all over again. That, and try as he might, he [i]was[/i] a loyal son of the empire, and it would gain him more scholastic achievement once the word got out. Emmaline squeaked and gave him a hug, which he reciprocated. 

Out of the locks of golden hair, Malcador noticed something distinctly grey, and it took the mage a moment to realize the steel head of a halberd was pointed right at him. Malcador pulled Emmaline away from it, and she squeaked a second time when she was aware, herself. Six halberds bristled from the well trained hands of the imperial palace guards, their mustaches nearly as ornate as their finely wrought breastplates, burnished and intricately crafted with the heraldic skull of the empire. The plumes on their caps along with their steel shells made them briefly look like a strange chimera of bird and crustacean. 

"Give us a reason why we should not run you through without mercy." One of the palatial guards declared. 

At that moment, Clodfoot finally decided to make his debut. The halflings had all landed in a pile, like a clutch of hairy and particularly smelly kittens. He shoved Humper off of him and rose to his full height, impressively tall (for a halfling). "Is that any way to speak to my honour guard!?" He cried. 

"Who in Sigmar's name are you!?" The largest guard spat. 

"I am Clodfoot of the mootland, dignitary and expected by Karl Franz, Prince of Altdorf himself! I come bearing...uh..." He looked at the piles of gold scattered across the courtyard. "this wealth, as a token. These two are mages of the Imperial Colleges of Magic, having risked life and limb to help me arrive without coming to blades with terrible assassins!" 

The heavily mustachioed halberdiers looked at one another, some incredulous and others in plane disbelief. Still, it worked in the end. Malcador and Emmaline were swiftly escorted to one of the outer lobbies of the Imperial Palace itself, waiting with Clodfoot and his 'men' while their arrival was brought up the chain of command. Malcador and Emmaline could only wait an uncomfortably long amount of time, hand wringing and wondering if they were going to be thrown in the stocks or taken into custody by witch hunters for what had to be a brazen and unadulterated use of magic. However, Clodfoot and his men, along with the carefully picked horde of coins they had meticulously plucked from the ground, were inducted into the inner sanctum of the palace by a bearded and overly pompous chamberlain, who glared at them the two mages and seemed to be about to shoo them out of the front gate, before a carefully whispered message in his ear had him take a sizeable pouch of golden coins from his belt and toss them at the two contemptuously. 

"Mine!" Emmaline yelled, but Malcador was quicker, snatching it out of the air, and subsequently bowing before the chamberlain. 

"You do us great honour, sir. Please know Malcador Zauberhaft, Magister of the Celestial college, and Emmaline Von Morganstern of the Golden Order, live to serve..." He remarked, and backed away slowly. Emmaline had the frame of mind to do the same, and within two hours, they had made it back into the Colleges, richer and more famous than they had anticipated. The consequences, however, might bite them in the ass within the week, if they were unlucky. Hopefully Ranald had a sense of humor.