This is the story of what Rem goes through after that tragic night many years ago. Lots of action and suspense. Aiming to make it around 10k~15k words.
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Rem gripped the handle of the flail in her right hand and the spiked ball in her left. Joined by a length of chain, the weapon was heavy; heavier than any knife, mop, or any other tool she had ever held. But it was a tool nonetheless. A tool, Rem told herself, she needed to master.
To protect what I love, what I hold important.
And holding that thought in her mind, she let the spiked ball fall. Before letting it hit the ground, she twirled and snapped her right hand forward. The chain whipped through the air, dragging the incredibly heavy spiked ball after it. Rem felt her wrist straining, succumbing to the weight of the flail. She gritted her teeth and pushed.
I must. I must. I must!
With a yell, she pushed. On the opposite side of the lawn, another one of the many remaining wooden targets erupted in a plume of dirt and splinters. The ball thudded into the ground a short distance away, leaving a small crater in the grassy lawn. Shoulders heaving, Rem straightened up to survey the damage.
The soft glow of the dying sun shimmered off the windows of the Roswaald manor and basked the lawn in orange. The usually carefully maintained turf was torn up, with wooden pieces of all sizes littering the scene. Dozens of crater holes from the flail spotted the grass. On one unsuccessful attempt the ball had crashed into the white path beside the lawn, sending fragments of shattered bricks everywhere.
Of the thirty-two wooden dummies that had been set up, Rem had destroyed ten in two hours. Even though the slightest blow of the heavy spiked ball was enough to reduce the dummies to rubble, Rem had gotten through less than a third of the goal for the day. The remaining dummies seemed to leer at her, admonishing her lack of strength and ability.
If only you were as strong as your sister, they jeered. If only you had lost your horn instead of her. If only your sister had been born a single child.
Rem sank to the ground. Tears blurred her vision, and her arms trembled in equal amounts of exhaustion and frustration. She'd been practicing the flail for close to two months already, but she hadn't progressed at all these last couple of weeks. It seemed that there was some trick that was eluding Rem but day after day she could not crack its mystery. Hopelessness and cold despair surged through her veins, sending her thoughts spiraling out of control.
If... If my sister still had her horn... she could...
Her fists clenched in her lap. Try as she might, Rem couldn't stop thinking in what ifs.
If I'd been the one to lose my horn...
Her self-admonishing thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, cool yet kind voice.
"Rem, are you finished with practice?" Rem's older twin sister asked from behind her. "I'll start repairing the path while you get cleaned up. We can leave the lawn as it is."
Always composed, beautiful, independent. That was her sister. While Rem was not so good at anything, Ram had always excelled. It had taken a mere week for her sister to come to terms with her hornless condition; she had then thrown herself into household chores with a diligence that put other servants to shame. Ram was always stronger than she.
I can't be like this in front of her... weak, talentless... even though she's lost far more than me.
But the words that spilled from Rem's mouth reflected none of what she wanted to be.
"Onee-chan, I... I can't do it. No matter how hard I try..." she sniffled. "Even such a simple thing like this..."
A moment later, Rem felt the soft warmth of her sister's chest against her back. Two arms encircled her from behind, ever so gently, lovingly.
"It's okay, Rem. I know you can do it. I believe so, even if you don't." Her sister murmured. The dying sunlight caught the water dancing in the fountain and threw twinkling orange glimmers across the lawn. Two hawks circled above, playfully pirouetting amongst the brilliant clouds.
Rem closed her eyes and clutched at her sister's arms, drawing comfort from the warmth, tears coursing down her cheeks and plopping onto her maid uniform. She felt the embrace tighten and her sister's chin come to a rest on her shoulder. The twin oni stayed like that until the sun slid under the skyline of trees in the distance, turning the sky to a deep azure blue.
The piece of ice within her heart remained still.
The next day, Rem woke up exactly at six. She took a quick shower and ate a small meal of bread and leftover stew from the night before. Then, promptly at half past six, she started her daily household maintenance routine. They involved cleaning out the trash, making breakfast, watering the indoor plants, mopping the corridors, and wiping windows. For five hours she worked mindlessly yet efficiently, toasting the bread to perfection, making the floor spotless, not missing a single windowpane. It was a way to take her mind off things that she didn't want to think about. Memories she didn't want to recall. Time and time again Rem would pass her sister doing other chores, cool and collected. Rem wondered if her sister also worked to forget the pain, to retreat into a shell of automated movements.
But never mind. Rem scrubbed the windows clean, using the exact amount of necessary cleaning solution for each section.
At eleven, she took a short lunch break before starting preparations for Master Roswaal's own lunch. Her sister joined her in the kitchen and together they cut, peeled, and cooked the ingredients.
After standing vigil while their master ate (who congratulated the twins on the meal well made), Rem and Ram went their separate ways for their afternoon duties. For Rem this included cleaning the bedrooms, exchanging linen and towels, and making sure that the pantry was well stocked. Rem dreaded what came next, but as she worked, the time passed steadily until the sun was hanging low in the sky.
At five in the afternoon, Rem stepped out of one of the side doors of the manor. For the next two hours Rem would practice controlling her flail, a gift from her master, while her sister prepared and watched over dinner. Then, every night at seven, the two would study for a few hours in the master library; Beatrice, guardian of the books, would teach them everything from history to literature to spell theory. Master Roswaal insisted that they receive a good education. But for Rem, he insisted that she also learn how to fight.
No, not to fight, but to protect, he had said. I need someone to protect my precious servants and house while I'm away. I'm relying on you.
Rem grasped the handle and spiked ball. The sky was still a warm blue, the air filled with the sweet fresh taste of grass and sunlight. Bird coos and the sound of tinkering water filled the air. She walked along a path until she reached the section of the lawn where she was allowed to train. The lawn had been fixed up and wooden dummies replenished. Closing her eyes and breathing deep, Rem readied herself; then, dropping the spiked ball and twirling, she let fly at the nearest target.
I will become stronger. Strong enough to protect Onee-chan from anything.
She swore that she would never be powerless again, as she had been that fateful night when she had lost her parents, home, and even almost her sister.
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A short chapter to start us off. Things will pick up in the next chapter. Enjoy!