Present Gensokyo
What a depressing room.
Reimu's words.
The scarlet devil mulled them over as she stared up at the first painting. Painted upon the canvas was a table that had a single scroll resting on its surface, a pot of ink, and a calligrapher's brush. The table was surrounded by a trio of figures.
Yukari Yakumo in an indigo dress, in all her foreboding majesty. Her interest was on the document.
Ran Yakumo, the gap youkai's enforcer, arms hidden within the folds of her still bloody sleeves, nine bristling tails behind her. Her sleek features were fixed on the last individual.
It was Remilia, of long ago. Her small body was clad in the ruined burgundy plate custom-made for the occasion. Her black wings rested on her back, the skin tattered and singed, with one gauntleted hand resting by the brush left on the table.
Her expression was stoic. Distinguished.
Tired.
Remilia's red eyes slipped down to the plaque embedded into the picture's border. 'The treaty'.
The betrayal, some might call it.
She left the picture, drifting over the gallery's red carpet.
What a depressing room.
Of course, in the moment, Remilia had inwardly simmered at the shrine maiden's careless honesty, but now…
Well…
She moved on, walking from painting to painting.
Here, a portrait of herself, before Gensokyo. Before the Nordics. Before London. She looked so haughty. Proud.
Lonely.
Remilia's brows knitted as she stared at the determined, besieged scowl on her past self's face.
There, a piece depicting herself and Flandre. Her sister's brave smile betrayed the nervousness she had felt on the day, all alone with just her big sister there to look over her.
Remilia smiled sadly.
Thereafter, a family portrait of the two of them with their parents.
The scarlet devil's mouth became a thin line, her eyes without spark as she stared up at their imperious, generic faces.
"Why?" she asked aloud.
Remilia left the fake where it hung, moving on, moving past portrait after portrait of her gloomy, glaring self.
She reached the great doors of the library, opening them before briskly walking inside.
"Hello, Mistress Remilia!" Koakuma shouted, fluttering down from on high with a stack of books clutched in her arms.
Remilia Scarlet smiled up at her. "No rats to worry about?" she asked.
"Oh, there was a certain black-and-white rat that tried her hand yesterday, but I chased her off before she even got into the library!" Koakuma's smile beamed at her from beneath her red, ragged bangs.
"Ohhh, very good! We may have to let you pick the afternoon snack for today," Remilia said.
Koakuma's mouth opened in a big grin.
"I'd get to sit with you all as well?" she asked.
"Well, that depends if your owner is okay with that," Remilia sounded, looking on at the columns of books. "You wouldn't happen to—"
"Row C6!" Koakuma chirped. "I'll get back to work. Thank you, Mistress!" she called as she rounded, her devil's wings sending her sailing over a shelf of books and out of sight.
Remilia felt a little sorry for Koakuma as she made her way towards the mahogany row of shelves marked 'C'. She was even more neglected than Meiling, to be so thrilled to sit with them.
"By the pricking of my thumbs…" a familiar, monotone voice murmured around the bend, and like that, Remilia's spirits lifted.
"Something scary this way comes!" Remilia growled dramatically as she rounded the corner, her light pink dress and mob cap distinguishing her from the drab books and the deep red carpet.
Patchouli Knowledge was standing there with a tome splayed in her hands, her sleepy eyes staring out beneath bangs and between ribbon-buttoned curtains of purple hair.
"You've read Macbeth?" she asked, her voice dreary—but Remilia could see the corner of her mouth being lifted by a smile.
"It was played out before me," Remilia teased.
Patchouli shook her head as her smile broadened.
"You're not just here to lord your storied life over me," she remarked.
"Nah," Remilia admitted. For a moment, she wondered how best to phrase what weighed on her. There was no need for decorum, not in this private place.
Patchouli's eyelids lowered.
"You're chewing the inside of your lip, aren't you?" she said.
"Maybe," Remilia murmured.
Patchouli raised an eyebrow before she turned.
"Come along then, Remi. Let's hear it," she said.
"'Kay," Remilia said, her black wings flapping tentatively as she followed her old friend to her book laden desk and the pair of chairs surrounding it.
Before Gensokyo
"You're throwing me out?"
The teenage witch seemed to push herself back into her chair, clearly uncomfortable.
"That's not how it is, Remilia," Patchouli murmured.
Remilia stared her down, her expression incredulous.
"I'm the— I'm the scarlet devil, mistress of this mansion! You think to unseat me?! This betrayal— From you, of all—"
"Listen to me!" Patchouli started, the interruption stealing Remilia's breath away.
"Listen to me…" Patchouli whispered, her hands gripping the table edge as she gathered her thoughts, knowing the clock was ticking. Once Remilia was over her shock, she would get angry. Break things. She knew Remilia wouldn't hurt her.
She told herself she knew that, that she did not merely hope.
"I've been elected to speak for those who live beneath this roof. They love you Remilia, and they've no want to be elsewhere.
"But they are afraid."
Remilia threw Patchouli a sneer. It was only an expression, and it was in the heat of things, but it hurt to be targeted by it.
"They fear for their future," Patchouli finished.
"Oh, for— They needn't be afraid!" Remilia sighed explosively.
"We can't keep running forever," Patchouli pointed out.
"And we won't! We won't—" Remilia was cut off by Patchouli.
"Transylvania backfired. You disregarded—unfairly—my suggestion to go to Avalon—"
"You'd best mind your tone—"
"And now when I caught lightning in a bottle, twice"—Patchouli was standing now, her voice hitching in her throat—"and found this 'Gensokyo', and brought its caretaker to the table, you ruined it, you ruined it by...!"
"Patchy…" Remilia was aghast. This was serious.
Patchouli had thrusted a palm against her own eye, hot tears plunging out between her fingers.
She'd made Patchy cry.
"Everyone is scared! I'm tired of moving us from place to place! Flandre wants friends! Koakuma, she— I-I…"
"Patchy." Remilia rounded the table to embrace her. Patchouli stood rigidly as Remilia tried to comfort her.
"A decision needs to be made," the witch whispered. "I don't care anymore where we go. Just…"
"Okay. Okay, Patchy. I'll-I'll take some books out of your library about etiquette, read them overnight, we can still fix it with—"
"No!" Patchouli declared, her hands finding Remilia's shoulders.
The frail librarian eased the vampire princess off of her. That small gesture made Remilia's heart—such as it was—plummet.
"We tried that. We—I—If you wish to speak to her again, you'll have to learn to do so properly, from a teacher. I can cast a glamour on your wings, so—"
Remilia nodded stoically. "Very well. Fine, I can— Fine. I can transform, and with money and your glamour, I can be anything; I can learn from anyone. Great."
They were afraid of her too. The few maids that had stayed on, Meiling, Koakuma, and even Patchy…
"Let's, umm… Let's get this started tonight, then!" Remilia declared, all bravado even as she crumbled behind the façade. "Just as I navigated around the renaissance kings, I will conquer the ballrooms of… whatever time we happen upon. And when I return, there will be changes, I promise you! Alright? Patchy!"
London
Remilia Scarlet's shriek woke up the rest of the hotel.
"Get the window!" She screamed for her maids as she fell out of bed, steam rising from her burning flesh. Her eyes rushed this way and that as she hid in the cool shade beneath the bed.
She wasn't in the mansion. She was still here.
There were no maids to rely on. No Patchy. No Meiling. No Koakuma.
She bared her fangs, her fists shaking as she tried to strangle the grey carpet.
I hate the outside world!
Eventually, she managed to crawl her way to the window and claw the curtains shut. Afterwards, she had convinced the hotel staff—through the door—that all was fine in the room, all whilst holding her temper.
"Oh, I'm so proud of you," Remilia said tartly to the empty mirror on the room's table.
Her shoulders sagged as she opened the drawers of her desk. Without a working mirror, she'd have to be liberal with the face powder.
She idly twirled the parasol's spine in her grip, an errant shaft of sunlight marking her pale forearm with a red bar of cooked skin, reminding her to be careful. To be vigilant.
As she began to cross the cobbles of the waking city street, she decided that she really should've brought Meiling along. Holding up the parasol herself was tiresome.
So she forestalled on meeting with this Mr. Osbourne. First, the circus. She would take that maid from the other night and have her shadow her with the parasol. It was necessary.
That was the lie Remilia told herself.
"I must say, you're being strangely charitable, baby brother."
The master's gaze flitted from place to place, watching the circus staff erect their tents and roll their canvas-screened cages into position.
"The circus doesn't happen every day. Besides, it could be a fine opportunity for us to make connections—"
He felt her long-nailed hand close around his arm, the gentleness disarming him.
"I think it's sweet. It's been a long time since I've been to the circus."
He turned to regard the sister. Her long, gorgeous face stared him down.
He smiled quickly back. "Anything for you, dear sister."
She watched him for a while longer before she redirected her gaze to the meek slip of a girl that accompanied them both.
"You were wise to be easy on the face, I think. She could help you find suitable items still."
The master felt his innards lurch.
"You approve, then?" he asked.
"Dear brother, I don't," she sighed, the sound wounding him, "but you have an appetite to sate.
Go, now. Take the dog. Already, spectators are arriving."
The silver-haired servant girl wordlessly followed the master as he hurried from his sister's side, the maid's newfound bruises making every movement a trial.
Half an hour later—as fire eaters blew plumes of blazing smoke into the air and lions roared for the entertainment of the early risers—the servant girl in her long, modest black dress would find herself being pulled aside from her brooding master.
"Hello, Sakuya," Remilia cooed.
The servant girl's silver eyes widened as she looked down at the red-eyed girl, clad in a lemon-yellow dress and matching skirt. The flesh on one side of the girl's face was pock marked by burn scars that face powder hadn't taken to, whilst the other half had the consistency of frosting.
The servant failed to stifle her gasp.
"That bad, hmm?" Remilia spoke as though she was bored. "Well, you are to fix it. Come along now."
The servant girl thought to protest, but that was only for an instant.
She followed the scarred, red-eyed child through the pavilions and crowds.
"Who did this to you?" the servant girl's voice reverberated throughout the alleyway.
"I suppose God did," Remilia quipped, turning her face to allow the servant to apply makeup to her burnt cheek.
"You're being evasive, little miss," the servant girl pointed out as she daubed more powder on.
"A vampire from long ago!" Remilia said with mock-wonder, her nose wrinkling then. She couldn't laugh about it, not even after all these years.
"You didn't have these burns last night, little miss," the servant girl persisted.
"Oh, like you've never sidestepped an unpleasant line of questioning," Remilia said, causing the servant girl to hesitate.
"Sakuya?" Remilia asked, curious about the interruption.
The servant girl gradually resumed.
"Did I say something wrong, Sakuya?" Remilia asked plainly. "Because you can tell me if I did."
Once more, the servant girl stopped. "No, you didn't, little miss. I'd still hear about the person who marked you. Was it your father?"
Remilia was silent for a moment. "I…" She floundered, stopped, then waved the question aside. "Oh, it doesn't matter. What does is, Sakuya, I should like you to escort me to Mr. Osbourne's place on Avalon Lane."
The servant girl smiled at that, deciding then that she'd like to know her name—for herself, rather than her employer. "I must ask, who are you? To think that you can shanghai me from my current employ?"
"Shanghai— Now, I know someone on my staff who you might like!" Remilia declared.
"Uhh... I should like to meet them one day, but what do I call you?" the servant girl persisted as she worked to remove the redundant layers of makeup from Remilia's face.
"Mistress will do," Remilia stated with a grin.
"You're very funny," the servant girl said woodenly. Remilia grinned widely, leaving the servant girl wondering if she approved of sarcasm or if she simply hadn't caught it.
"I really do like you, Sakuya. Would you please escort me to see this Mr. Osbourne?"
The sincerity of her request caught the servant girl off guard. Once again, she felt a smile pulling at her mouth.
"Alright," Sakuya said. "As soon as I'm done fixing your face. Honestly, you look like a clown that's been set on fire."
Remilia's devilish giggle warmed her as she continued fixing the little girl's face. After she'd finished her work, she provided a hand mirror from the bag she wore under her arm which was promptly shoved low and away by Remilia's fingers.
"I trust you," she said by way of excuse.
As Sakuya took up the parasol that was offered to her and listened to Remilia's stringent instructions not to let the sun meet her delicate skin – before following her newfound mistress out the alleyway into the shadowy, smog-hazed London daylight.
"You've had some experience in this, then?" Remilia asked.
"Hmm?" The servant asked.
"In masking marred beauty," Remilia said, glancing up at her.
The servant's eyes focused on the back of the girl in the lemon dress, her mouth hanging open for a moment. "It is a duty I have performed many times for my mistress."
"Oh!" Remilia made a tiny gasp. "Is she beaten?"
"It's wildly improper to gossip, little miss—particularly to the subject of conversation's staff." The servant said curtly.
The young noblewoman's shoulders sloped a little.
"You've been very kind to me, Sakuya," the girl noted.
"I am a maid. It is important that I am attentive to the needs of my employer and their guests." The servant's tone evened out.
"And here I am, stealing you away from them," Remilia murmured. "And I haven't even told you my name."
"Don't," the servant girl decided, reminded then of what her master could do with a name.
The both of them stopped sharply, Remilia's curious eyes meeting the wary glare of the servant girl.
"You were so keen to hear my name minutes ago!" She pouted.
The servant girl looked on at her, clearly torn. She wanted to hear it, but she'd be made to pass it on all too easily.
Remilia, with no other information to rely on, turned to her gift, her gaze already registering the fork in her spectral chain of fate. One length of linkage diverted hard away from the course, strong, cold, but intact.
The other road…
Remilia cocked her head to one side, a rogue's smile playing beneath her blood red eyes.
"I am Remilia Scarlet, daughter to Count Vlad Tepes Dracula. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she declared, her chest puffing up a little as she postured.
The servant sagged a little, defeated.
"Well," Remilia grinned up at Sakuya, "let's see this Mr. Osbourne's place, and after which, we can go back to the circus and enjoy ourselves!"
The men and women gave the policemen in their dark uniforms and silver buttons a wide berth as they milled outside Mr. Osbourne's place. Brooms held in the hands of laymen swept the streets clear of broken glass. A small box the length and width to house a finger was attached to the doorframe.
"I am to wait outside," Sakuya said as they got closer.
"Why?" Remilia asked as they approached the modest house that stood alone from its neighbours.
"Mister Osbourne likes to evaluate his students alone, without parents or guardians interfering."
"A stupid rule, but I will abide. Do not leave without me, Sakuya."
Sakuya toyed with the notion as Remilia threw the sun above them a wary glance before she slipped beneath the house's awning and disappeared inside.
She reappeared a minute and a half later, a scowl ruining her young features.
"Well, this was a waste," Remilia said, clearly cross.
"What happened?" Sakuya asked.
"It doesn't matter! You will find me another tutor," Remilia decided.
Sakuya's expression bordered on disbelief. "Surely he offered a reason as to—"
"Let us return to the circus and speak no more of this!" Remilia snapped, covering her bristling tone with a hurried smile.
"So you came here on a ship, little miss?" Sakuya asked as she led the girl through the alleyways. She had suggested using the main thoroughfares, but Miss Scarlet had stated a preference for the sheltered paths found between the houses and factories.
"No, in a great mansion coloured a shade of blood," Remilia insisted. "Patchy— Patchouli Knowledge, a witch—the best, by the way—brought us here on a tide of magic. Once my business here is concluded, we will sail through time and space to find our home…"
Sakuya knew she should question and ascertain the truth, but she found herself indulging in the fiction, listening to the motor-mouthed princess.
"Oh, you'd love Meiling! She's someone we picked up from the far east. She's very lazy but very funny, so we keep her around! Very effable."
"Affable?" Sakuya corrected.
"Yes. Isn't that what I said?" Remilia asked, sounding both hurt and puzzled.
"It sounds nice," Sakuya said.
Remilia quietened.
"You could teach me," she suggested.
"What?" Sakuya asked flatly.
"Teach me to be a lady!" Remilia chirped as she rounded on the servant.
"I don't—"
"You do, though!" Remilia interrupted. "You know how things are done! Who better to ask than someone who sees such things without worrying about participating?!"
"I have duties, little miss. My master-"
Remilia mock-snored at the protest. "I can tell you don't enjoy serving him—"
"It's not my lot to enjoy myself." Sakuya cut back, the phrase throwing a frown onto Remilia's face.
Remilia retorted by blowing a raspberry. "That's too bad, as we're going back to the circus!"
And that is what they did.
They watched the animals obey their masters with little protest, balancing on star-covered platforms and prostrating themselves for the crowd's amusement. Remilia cooed with amusement, her brow frequently furrowing as she asked question after question to Sakuya.
"Where did all these animals come from?
"What do they eat?
"What do they taste like?"
Sakuya couldn't tell her very much, being a sheltered child, but she told the girl all she could. Remilia enjoyed her answers—especially the made up ones—and in turn, Sakuya enjoyed the interactions as well.
Then the knife throwers came out.
"Oho, how dangerous!" Remilia clapped her hands as the ringmaster explained the knife-throwing to them, the assistant going to a wooden barricade with a variety of playing cards that he held up as targets.
"I should hope so," Sakuya murmured to herself, her eyes growing half-lidded as she observed the stance, the technique and the posture of the thrower.
She started to curse under her breath as some of the knives landed poorly. Sometimes the tip wouldn't dig into the wood. Once, the knife went astray, bouncing off of the wooden wall.
That stray knife…
Her fingers had been like rigid claws as she held the pillow to her face.
She'd screamed hard into the coarse leather. Hard enough to see spots of blood on the pillow where her mouth had been.
The policeman hadn't believed her. He'd been there and outperformed her. Her confession, her truth had been… quashed, by—
She screamed so damn hard the empty lounge she stood in shuddered and stuttered around her. In her despair, in her rage, she stalked out of the living room to the place with the knives. The kitchen. Of course, the kitchen.
She'd kill him. She'd kill them both herself.
She seized the first knife she could find, rounding on the pantry door as the scenery twitched as though to right itself. She raised the steel, her wrist snapped…
"Sakuya—"
"What?" the servant girl asked harshly.
Remilia blinked up at her. Some of the audience had turned, alarmed at the tone a maid had used to address her supposed ward.
Sakuya blanched. "I-I'm sorry, I—"
"Let's go outside?" Remilia suggested.
The scarlet mistress held the parasol to herself as she insisted that the maid sit and gather herself.
"I didn't know the knife throwing would upset you," Remilia said. Sakuya rubbed her own brow with her hand.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Too late, you did!" Remilia chuckled. "But it's fine, it's fine! If anything, I should like to know why it upset you."
The servant girl shook her head, again and again as she clenched her teeth. "I can't—"
"Boo. You can! Tell me, I won't tell anyone else!" Remilia promised.
"Why—" The servant girl tried to muster the strength to finish her sentence. "I don't think it's proper to—"
"I'm curious, and I'm taking a shine to you. Now, tell!" Remilia insisted. "Maybe I can help."
That made the servant girl laugh a sad and bitter laugh.
"My maid finds something funny!"
Like that, the maid shot to her feet, all expression and emotion locked behind an inoffensive, blank mask at the sound of that soft, strong voice. Remilia rounded on the newcomer, forcing a smile onto her face as she regarded the hawkish man.
"And who might you be?" Remilia asked as the master approached, the gravel underfoot crunching beneath his shoes.
"I am Edwin Barnes, a pleasure to meet you, Miss…"
Remilia didn't see so much as feel the servant girl stir beside her. But the scarlet princess was quicker.
"Remilia Scarlet, daughter to Count Vlad Tepes Dracula." She introduced herself with a curtsy, her eyes never leaving the master.
He didn't seem to believe her.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Scarlet," the master said, with a smile that suggested more than just pleasure.
Remilia matched his menace with a toothy grin. "The pleasure is all mine. I must thank you for allowing me to borrow your personnel. I had errands to run, and it would be unseemly for a child of a far-flung country to travel alone, no?"
Despite the energetic circus performers and their fawning, gabbling folk who watched them, Remilia heard the tiny, nigh imperceptible break in the conversation her admission of vulnerability created.
"Ah— Well, you are welcome for the loan!" he exclaimed with faint surprise.
Remilia nodded her head deferentially, though her red eyes never left his face. Her gaze remained on him a moment longer before she turned, gesturing around them.
"I must say, I've never been to the circus before. Where did these beasts come from, Africa, did he say?"
"I suppose so, yes," the master said dismissively. "I'm sorry, you're not from around here. Staying with friends, or—"
"Oh, that's right. No, I've a hotel room to myself. Spacious suite, decent service, charming sunrises," Remilia said, inwardly wincing.
"Oh, that does sound delightful. hich hotel? Charming sunrises… I might know the one."
The servant girl shook her head absent-mindedly, her head running hot behind her cool expression as Remilia answered.
"It's the Jackson Grand Hotel."
Remilia's eyes darted from the master as he began to waffle about the hotel. She read suppressed distress beneath the maid's apparent calm quickly. "Ah, it's fortunate to hear an honest opinion Mr. Barnes. I was thinking of paying a further week in advance for the room, but perhaps I'll look elsewhere."
The light in the silver eyes of the servant girl dulled further as Remilia took Barnes' suggested address, a hotel that was closer and more advantageous.
"It's only a stone's throw from my 'd love to have you for dinner, Miss Scarlet."
"Yes, I was just thinking the same of you," Remilia Scarlet said tartly, breaking the spell.
The master's expression faltered. The servant girl's eyes reconnected with this innocuous girl with the red eyes, the parasol and a smile that bordered on sinister.
Then Remilia struck her own brow with her open palm, her eyes going skyward. "D'oh! We're not back home in Transylvania! I can make no such offer. Honestly, that would be wonderfully kind of you. I wouldn't be imposing?"
And like that, the conversation resumed. The servant girl's unease lightened a little, tuning out for a time.
"Oh, I was meaning to ask. How much do you pay this girl?" Remilia asked.
"I pay her a decent wage. Eighteen pounds a year."
"Then I shall pay you thirty-six pounds for her."
The master's eyes widened, as did the servant girl's.
"I mean to keep her," Remilia added.
"Why?" the master asked.
"I have developed a frightfully good rapport with your maid, and I'm famously bad at building such things amongst the common folk. It would save me a lot of trouble. Is forty any better?" Remilia declared.
The master opened his mouth and closed it again.
Remilia seemed to catch herself, both hands to her mouth. "I'm— I'm so sorry. It's improper of me to regard her as simple chattel to be bought! Sakuya!"
Remilia rounded on the servant girl, grinning widely now. "I will pay you forty pounds a year if you become mine. Right now. This is my offer."
"You think to buy my staff out from under me, in front of me?" the master asked, seemingly amused.
Remilia rounded on him with that dagger filled grin of hers. "Oh come, now, Edwin Barnes. If her skills match the salary you've given her, she should be easily replaced—or have you been underpaying her?" Remilia gasped as his smile disappeared. "But no matter! I will also pay you sixty pounds for releasing her from your employ on such short notice and without incident. What say you?"
She saw the master's hands ball into fists in her periphery, his plastic, unpleasantly cordial smile resurfacing. No sane man would reject that kind of money for a lowly maid, and Sakuya would be mad to deny it. Any moment now…
"I'm grateful for the offer, Miss Scarlet," the servant girl piped up, "but I am— I am satisfied with my current employer."
The servant girl's decision took the scarlet mistress off guard. The master capitalised, making a show of popping open a splendid silver pocket watch, one that Remilia noticed caught Sakuya's eye.
"Well, this has been exciting, Miss Scarlet, but I am thinking I should retire—and if you haven't visited the circus, now is certainly the time—"
"Oh," Remilia interrupted. "Before you go, I have a request— No, a condition! I have lessons to complete with a tutor; it should take a week. Can I have Sa— your servant girl walk me for that duration? I'm more than happy to compensate you," Remilia said, suddenly all charm and childlike excitement.
The master's tongue ran along the inside of his teeth as he mustered some self-control.
"That'll be something to discuss later," he said, tossing her a counterfeit smile before he stalked away.
The servant girl lingered. "Miss Scarlet—" The servant girl felt Remilia's finger push on her lips.
"We'll meet again, Sakuya," Remilia said emphatically. "Now, go."
Remilia watched her go. She waved as Sakuya threw her a troubled glance back at her before she became the weary servant girl once more.
As soon as she was alone in the crowd, she frowned. What on earth did this Barnes hold over Sakuya?
And why can't I read his fate?
Remilia narrowed her eyes. Patchy might know. Hell, Meiling might be able to shed some light, perhaps.
"I've changed my mind, dear sister."
The sister glanced over at the master as he stalked on over. "You'd like to see the freak show after all?"
The master recoiled as though stung, before his words slipped out of his mouth like a blade might leave a scabbard. "No. Remilia Scarlet. This— this scion of the Impaler. I'll have her."
The sister nodded, nonplussed, seeing the dead-eyed servant girl at his shoulder. Her gaze slipped back to her dear brother. "Is it wise to change one's mind when it comes to dinner guests—"
"I don't care if it's wise or not, I—" He felt her rush him, his voice snatched away.
"Careful, baby brother," the sister interrupted, a subvocal growl purring under her words as her long nails cradled his cheek. "You mustn't let your temper rule you. I'm hungry too."
The master hesitated, his eyelid flickering as anger warred with self-preservation.
"She knows."
"Scarlet? What does she know?"
"I don't know, but she seemed to— he displayed a keen interest in the bitch!" The master jerked his head to indicate the servant girl.
"Why might she do that, do you suppose?" the sister asked, already in the servant girl's face, her gaze curious and discerning.
The servant girl tried to stand her ground, looking straight ahead.
"I haven't told her anything, my lady. I fear she has simply taken a liking to me," the servant girl said.
The sister seemed appeased by that, rounding on the master.
"Have your Russian dig up what he can on her, to see if she is as protected as she says she is—but do so quickly, so you can hurry up and make a decision."
The master opened his mouth as though to protest being given orders before he thought better of it and left, storming through the weary crowd.
"Your face is slipping! Look to it," she called after him. "Now, why do you suppose she likes you?"
The servant girl blinked. She'd been addressed.
"Why does this Miss Scarlet like you?" the sister asked again.
The servant girl knew she couldn't hesitate for long.
"She thinks I am kind," she said, sidestepping how she had comforted her about the De Veres. The servant girl would be used and made to do things, but if she could withhold something that could forestall one girl's fate…
The sister watched her carefully, studying her.
Before she gave the servant girl a wan smile.
"And we both know that's not exactly true, is it? Why, she hasn't yet seen what you're capable of…"
Present Gensokyo
"You want to know what our servants think of you?" Patchouli asked, no longer the teenage girl Remilia had been confronted by all those years ago.
Remilia's big round eyes stared across the table at her, her mouth a thin, awkward line. She nodded.
The book in Patchouli's hand slapped shut.
"What brought this on?" Patchouli asked.
Remilia shrugged with her shoulders, her shoes gently kicking back and forth beneath the table. "I've been negligent in the past," she murmured.
Patchouli smiled. Properly now. "And I was impatient and rude in my youth."
Remilia waved off her words. "It had the desired effect, you're fine," she said.
Patchouli inclined her head at the pardon before she spoke.
"I think we should perhaps ask them face to face," Patchouli said, a giggle breaking out of her when Remilia, in a fit of embarrassment, pulled her mob cap over her own face.
"Don't make me do that, Patchy!"
"Oh, Remi, I can't make you do anything. I can only counsel you—and an employee can only truly know that their contribution is appreciated if—"
Remilia snarled playfully, her teeth gnawing at the fabric of her hat. "Yesh, I know, if their employer tellsh them."
Patchouli's laughter at the immature display was cut short by a coughing fit.
"Ahh… for what it's worth…" Patchouli would look up at her hand to see Remilia looking over at her, concerned. "I'm incredibly proud of you, Remi."
Remilia hid once more.
"Don't, my asthma…" Patchouli grinned, her plea answered with an apologetic Remilia emerging from behind the shield that was her hat.
"Sorry. Let's do that. Umm."
"Hmm?" Patchouli asked as she got up from her chair, taking a moment to steady herself. With her health, every exertion was a hefty one.
"How do you feel about the paintings in the gallery, Patchy?"
"How do I feel about them?" Patchouli repeated. They were family heirlooms that signified important events, but they'd always been a little gloomy.
"Shall we have some more commissioned?" Remilia asked, glancing up at her as they walked.
Patchouli smiled down at Remilia as they approached the library's doors.
"It must be kismet. You're not the only one who's made that suggestion," she said with a voice that brimmed with warmth.
"Though, the tengu do have their instantaneous capturing devices..."