Louise wasn't entirely sure how Rumia had managed it any more than Longueville had managed to slip her golem in, but Rumia had somehow gotten the wolf all the way to her room completely unnoticed by the eyes of staff, servant, or student. In light of that, she couldn't help but feel her faith in the Academy's security measures... dwindle, just a little. In any case, when it was revealed, there was a brief period of chaos, followed by an uneasy calm when it was revealed the Louise could keep it in line with soft, dangerous words, a steady glare, and, at one point, a solid belt to the nose when it seemed to be getting ready to pounce on someone. That last had startled and confused the beast more than it had inflicted any actual injury, but Louise's continued failure to show even the most subtle whiff of fear in the face of the wolf's fangs was sending it all manner of mixed, unnerving messages. This was not, after all, the way things should have gone, by its limited understanding.

An earth mage had quickly stepped in to build an enclosure to keep the wolf penned, rather than simply chain it up and risk it getting loose. Aside from a quick false start, in which the mage in question demonstrated a complete lack of any sort of familiarity with animals by setting up an area less than a quarter of the size that would keep the wolf satisfied, from which it almost wouldn't be able to avoid trying to escape, it worked out rather well, and Louise made arrangements for the kitchen servants to throw meat scraps in every so often.

That had all turned out better than she'd expected, when the wolf first poked its head in, and she'd gone to sleep satisfied. Then, morning came, followed by breakfast, which brought things rather nicely up to the present.

"Pardon, what?" She said dryly, upon hearing the suggestion Osmond had called her to his office to deliver.

"As I said, with no other leads, I'm returning to my previous hypothesis, and I've arranged for another test to come this evening. I would suggest, however, that you buy the girl a suitable weapon beforehand."

"... You simply will not give up on this Gandalfr notion, will you." Louise groaned in a sort of vague disbelief. After a moment, she shook her head and held out a hand.

"... Pardon?" Osmond asked, confused.

"This is your experiment, to confirm or disprove your own theory, yes?" Louise said, grin laced with a slight, soft chill. "So then... even if I'm willing to go out of my way to run an errand I hadn't planned, it's only sensible that you be the one to pay for the materials that will be used. Isn't that right?"

"Ohohoho... now, let's not be so hasty." Osmond chuckled. "I've no use for a sword, so you and your familiar will be retaining possession of it following the conclusion of the latest test. Besides, this should be a wonderful bonding experience for you two young girls, a shopping expedition. You'll likely come to know and understand each other much better in the process, you know."

"Girl's days out don't often involve edged metal or armor, and the only shop I think Rumia may be interested in is the meat markets." Louise countered. "And it doesn't explain why I should pay, to test your theories."

"It's the way of the world, my dear. Regardless, though, the Academy's coffers are a touch light at the moment, what with the recent... renovations. Perhaps you should simply consider it a kindly master giving a gift to her loyal familiar?"

"Then you're simply ordering me to go buy something." Louise concluded flatly.

"Oh dear, no, I wouldn't dream of that. I will strongly advise it, however, as well as say that you might find it to be in your own best interests, and I'm sure there's any number of useful purposes to which the tool might be put."

"I'm fairly sure Rumia isn't entirely clear on the concepts of 'tools' or 'weapons' to begin with." Louise grumbled, but returned her hand to her side. "Fine, then. I'll go do that."

"Do be back by evening, miss Louise!" Osmond called after her, as she bowed shortly and stalked out of the room. "The test is scheduled for shortly before sundown."

Louise seethed quietly, and was slow to cool as she stepped out of the building, headed for the stables. Then she paused, glancing over to the penned enclosure, where the gargantuan wolf was napping... then shook her head. Perhaps another time.

Her foul mood had not entirely left as she made it to town, and she quickly located the most run down weapons shop she could locate. Osmond had never specified that she needed to waste money on something good, after all.

"... Now, see here, we run a respectable business." The merchant began when she entered, and he realized he was in the presence of nobility. "Nothing at all untoward going on here, though you're welcome to inspect for yourself, your ladyship."

"Not interested." She answered immediately. "I want a... sword."

At that, the shopkeep's face brightened up considerably.

"Ah, so that's the case then, should have guessed m'self. As it so happens, I have a lovely piece just in today from the finest steelsmiths and craftsmen in Germania. For you, milady, a bargain at no more than three thous-"

"Not interested." She cut him off instantly, headache beginning to brew at the sales pitch. "What can I find in here for ten gold?"

"You can find the door right back out onto the street is what." The merchant snipped, seeming vexed that he wasn't going to be able to push an overpriced lump of metal she hadn't wanted in the first place off onto the noble. "... I'll let you rummage about in the bargain items for a bit 'til you come to your senses though. Milady." He hastened to finish, though it somehow came out seeming less respectful than if he'd left the title off entirely."

Louise nearly snapped at him, but a deep breath convinced her that it probably wasn't worth it just to vent her spleen, as she had the sneaking suspicion that he could and would retaliate against her purse for it. Instead, she focused her attention on the weapons in the barrel he'd waved at.

... This one was rusted clear through. She was wary of even picking it up, for fear it would fall apart into metal splinters. This one's blade was heavily dented, to the point that she could only guess it would take days of work with a whetstone to get something even vaguely resembling a decent edge on it. This one was bent entirely, the blade closing on making a right angle with the hilt...

"What's wrong with this garbage?" She snapped.

"It's the bargain bin, milady." The shopkeep answered dryly. "If it's in there, it's for a reason. Nothing that can't be made like new again with a visit to the blacksmith's, of course..."

"... But the cost of repair will likely be considerable." Louise finished for him, and he shrugged apathetically. She returned to looking through the barrel, and after a moment pried a sword free.

"... Looks like this one isn't falling apart. Rusty, but not eaten through, no really obvious dents, bends, or cracks... dare I ask what's wrong with it?"

"... Oh, that one." The merchant answered, a clear look of distaste crawling over his features. "Give it a swing and find out for yourself."

Louise was hesitant to actually follow this instruction, but after a moment took the blade by the handle and swung it in a clear arc through the air.

"Your grip is terrible." A disgruntled voice called out from the sword itself, and she nearly hurled it away. "Weak, limp wristed... you're holding me all wrong. Hit anything with me like that, and It'll send a shockwave up your arm and you'll drop me. Have you ever even watched someone actually competent train or fight, girl?"

"Somehow, I understand perfectly what you meant." Louise said to the shopkeep. "... How much?"

"Hrm... now, I really want to get rid of the thing, you understand, but it does hold some value as a curiosity. For you, my lady, one hundred new gold."

"Never mind then, I'll get a lump of pig-iron beaten into the right general shape at the blacksmith's." Louise decided, turning to replace the mouthy sword.

"Ah, perhaps I was slightly hasty in my appraisal." The shopkeep quickly continued. "What I meant was, of course, a mere eighty gold, with my compliments."

"... Twenty." Louise counter-offered.

In the end, she paid around fifty gold for the sword, along with a promise to never, ever bring it back to pawn, and neither she nor the merchant were terribly happy about the compromise, but they were, at very least, satisfied.

"So." The sword asked, as she stopped at a small tavern to eat something. The common fare wasn't exactly thrilling to the palate... it was, however, filling. "What exactly is a mage-whelp like yourself interested in a sword for?"

"The Headmaster's ridiculous theories." Louise answered around a mouthful of food, not obliged to show much in the way of decorum when there were only commoners and a sword around to see. "He thinks my familiar is some sort of legend. So far, though, his tests have been the opposite of solid proof for it."

"Legend, huh... Oh! You mean Gandalfr?"

"That's what he thinks, yes." Louise admitted, between mouthfuls of some sour fruit nectar. "I have my doubts."

"Well, shouldn't be hard to find out." The sword said practically. "Give them a weapon they've never used before and throw them into a fight. It'll be pretty obvious after a couple minutes. If they're not, though, they might die."

"After it spectactularly failed to learn knife work at a touch, I suspect that's the plan."

"Hm... not at all worried about your familiar?"

"Bah. As though a little think like being carved up with swords would kill it." Louise answered disinterestedly, dipping bread in broth to soften it up enough to chew. "... Not looking forward to the ride back, though."

"Not a good rider?"

"Less that, and more that I'm still a mass of cuts and bruises from the other day." She grumbled. "The salve helped, but that familiar of Tabitha's has scales edged like knives... some of those cuts were too deep for comfort. And with having fallen onto it from the wall..."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that." The sword said, interestedly. "You'll have to tell me sometime."

"Maybe later." Louise said, rising slowly and leaving a scattering of small coins by her utensils to pay for the meal. She strapped the talking sword to her back before she left.

Rumia wasn't any more pleased about the test than Louise had been, when she returned to the Academy grounds and things were arranged.

"I can't kill him?" She asked morosely, as the leather-clad man stretched in place, drawing a rapier with deliberate casualness.

"Not a good idea, he's apparently the Headmaster's friend's servant." Louise answered quietly, before handing the sword over. "Finish this pointlessness quick... but try not to hurt him too badly."

"Are you prepared, girl?" The man called out.

Rumia just shrugged, and the man sighed, then lunged forward, thrusting at almost a blinding speed, tip of the thin blade blurring as it stabbed forth, piercing Rumia's shoulder. The man didn't so much as have time to frown and step back, or explain that he'd been fairly convinced by Osmond's theories, and had simply assumed that she would dodge or parry the blow with ease, before Rumia had already retaliated. The sword in her hand sliced through hardened leather and flesh alike, and nicked against bone, scoring the man's ribcage heavily as he fell back in some surprise, clutching at the gaping wound.

"Medic!" Louise called, having thought to have one at hand in advance for just this reason.

"... Hm." Osmond said, stroking his beard in thought. "I suppose these results could be called... inconclusive?"

"Let me get a second opinion." Louise said dryly. "Sword?"

"I didn't think it was possible for someone to have a worse grip than you do." The sword complained loudly, before Osmond had the chance to voice his confusion. "Hand position is awkward, swing is bad, foot placement is all wrong, she got less than half what she could have out of that swing. She could have cleaved the man in two if she was a step closer, but that's more due to her unnatural physical strength. Aside from that, she's definitely in the top ten worst swordsmen I've ever been used by. At least number four. You're number thirteen, by comparison, whelp."

"I see." Louise said simply, then turned her head and called to the healer. "Be sure to look for rust poisoning, I haven't had the chance to have this fixed up yet."

"Anyway, if she is the Gandalfr, then there's something horribly wrong." The sword continued. " You'd be better off with just getting her a big slab of metal and bolting a handle onto it than a real sword, at this point."

"Hm..." Osmond mumbled thoughtfully, mind running over the fight, if it could be reasonably called such a thing. Yes, he was sure of it. There had been a faint glimmer in the girl's shadows. He'd only barely been able to pick it out, but it had been there.

"If we're done here, I do have plans." Louise said simply, and Osmond nodded and wandered back to his office, still deep in thought. Certainly, those plans were simply to sit in a tub of ice water and re-apply that healing salve, but that was irrelevant. Rumia had dropped the sword in disinterest at some point, clearly uncaring as to whether it could talk or not, and wandered off in the direction of the forest, doubtless to reduce the local wildlife population stil further. She grudgingly picked it up and shook it gingerly, blood dripping from the tip.

"Hey, be sure to wipe this off before you sheathe me, girl, or it'll come off and dry onto the inside of the scabbard, and then you'll never get the smell out." The sword helpfully advised.

"Ugh. Noted. I'll see if I can find a servant who knows about maintaining blades to get you back in order."

"Hey, that'd be great. It's been a long time since I've had a good polishing..."