Fear.

It was not an unknown emotion to Salem. She felt fear when she first ventured out of her tower. She had felt fear when she sat by Ozma's bedside as he battled sickness. She felt fear when she came out of the Grimm Pool a monster. She felt fear when Ozma took their daughters. She felt fear when Arcturius died.

Fear played a huge part in bringing her to this point in her immortal life. It made her do rash decisions that brought both precious and deeply regretful moments in equal measures.

Still, fear has become unfamiliar to Salem due to the monotonous routine she found herself in. The first few iterations of Ozma saw a more emotional Salem as an enemy, switching between hot rage and cautious fear during the time. But with more of the same, Ozma leading then Ozma dying then leading again, and no significant progress on either side, the two settled into an ages-long pattern. Sure, Ozma would make things minutely interesting ever so often, with some scheme that slightly deviated from the norm and made her heart beat a small bit faster for the possibility of losing, but even those moments fell into the predictable pattern they had. Fear seemed to have lost its place in Salem's life.

Until it suddenly crashed right back into it.

"Byzantine Eldonac, at your service, Imperia Maestia."

Imperia Maestia. Imperial Majesty.

It was more than just a title in another language. It was the title held only by the Imperial Monarchs of House Romula, her house. It was the title given to her family, spoken by the Gods themselves. Only those in the Imperial Court knew about it and even fewer were allowed to pronounce it as to not sully the spoken words of the Gods. And though the Gods are long gone and without power over Remnant, it did not mean the title would become common. No, the man before her was not any commoner.

"Raise your head." She commanded the man named Byzantine, making the young fellow comply with a small smile on his lips.

"Speak your purpose here and if it is satisfactory, I may just let you live." Salem offered in her regal tone, belying the threat she just issued to the man.

However, as opposed to whatever response she expected from the man, she never thought he would choose to chuckle at her statement, as if to dismiss its worth.

"To be considered an enemy by my own liege, you wound me so." Byzantine spoke in mock hurt as he placed a hand over his heart. Salem narrowed her eyes at his casual impertinence, trying to ascertain what exactly the man was.

"Do not take such a tone with me, young mortal. I have little patience for foolish trickery such as this. Simply confess that you were sent by Ozma- what is his name this time, Hazel?" Salem began her intimidation before remembering that the mortal might not even know what Ozma was.

However, before Hazel could supply an answer from beside Byzantine, the suspicious individual gave it himself.

"Ozpin." Byzantine answered easily.

Byzantine's knowledge slightly surprised Salem before she reasoned that the man might have simply been told by Ozma already regarding himself. After all, only Ozma would know about the title at this day and age, so he most likely just told it to this pawn of his and sent the poor mortal to her in an effort to rattle her. Admittedly, it initially worked but with the truth finally revealed to her, Salem simply thought that Ozma was getting desperate to resort to such cheap tactics now.

"It seems Ozma trusted you with his past. A shame you continued to be blinded by his self-righteous cause until he sent you to your death." Salem commented, dismissing her previous notion of possible mercy for the man. Clearly, he was too entrenched to not see the hypocrisy of Ozma even aft-

"It is unfortunate that you seem to have forgotten all your lessons on etiquette and courtesy, Empress Salem." Byzantine suddenly said in an authoritative voice, this time with a small frown on his face. This made Hazel, Tyrian and even Salem widen their eyes in shock at the brazen tone the young man took against the Queen of Grimm.

"Ho-Ho-How DARE you address the Goddess like that you insignificant-" Tyrian screamed after he recovered from his shock, leaping from Salem's side and charging towards the unarmed man.

"Tyrian." Salem managed to call out before her zealot's tail could pierce the man's throat. And even then, Byzantine didn't look like he flinched.

"Return to my side." Salem ordered the Faunus with slight steel in her voice, annoyed at the man's overreaction to perceived insults upon her person. Tyrian complied with a slight pained look on his face, looking upset at her tone.

"You seem to still be able to command such zealous devotion from subjects, though their discipline is severely lacking." Byzantine simply commented, still undeterred by his near-death experience.

"Who are you?" Salem plainly asked this time, now unsure about her own conclusions regarding the man.

At her simple question, the small smile returned on Byzantine's lips before he gave another bow towards Salem.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly. To Remnant, I am known by the name of Byzantine Eldonac, steward of Roma. To you, I present myself as Byzantine de Caledon, last living descendant of Martinius de Caledon, Imperial Regent."

Salem's eyes widened as the man spoke the name of the Imperial Regent. She thought any trace and knowledge of her era was long forgotten except between her and Ozma. Now, this man claims to be a descendant of Martinius, the man she considered an uncle?

"Hazel, Tyrian. Leave." Salem quickly ordered her servants. Hazel shot her a questioning gaze but remained quiet while Tyrian turned to her with a horrified look on his face.

"M-my Goddess, are you sure abo-" Tyrian tried to ask Salem before being cut off.

"Are you questioning my order, Tyrian?" Salem asked with authority, making Tyrian widen his eyes in realization.

"No, no, no! I did not mean that, my Goddess! I am your loyal follower. Please forgive me." Tyrian pleaded as he dropped to his knees.

"Do as I." Salem simply replied, not bothering to care about anything else he said.

"Of course, my Goddess!" Tyrian answered dutifully as he stood up and rushed to the doors. Hazel followed the Faunus zealot out the room, leaving only Salem and Byzantine inside.

"How?" Salem simply asked, still not fully believing what he said.

"Did you think you and Ozma were the only ones cursed by the Brothers?" Byzantine started, rising from his bow.

"No, our family line as well was cursed by the Brothers. Cursed to be a servant forever. Cursed to always remember." Byzantine continued; his voice tainted with slight bitterness.

"When you abandoned your empire and left Ozma to corrupt Empress Osiris' mind, Martinius was doomed to die. And when he did, we found out about our curse. His memories rushed into our minds, the mind of his sons and daughters, cursed to see his work and doomed to die in its pursuit. For what can we do when faced with such purpose, such legacy?" Byzantine said, his voice filled with contempt when he spoke the words 'purpose' and 'legacy'.

"You may not have known it, but we have continued to serve you throughout the countless years. We were killers, saints, kings, criminals, soldiers, scholars, doctors, and everything else, but we were first and foremost your servants." Byzantine finished, spreading his arms apart to showcase himself entirely.

"Does that mean you are Martinius?" Salem inquired, still trying to make sense of things.

"Yes and no. We only receive memories of our ancestors' lives after they die so whoever we were before that still remain in control. Still, it is hard to entirely separate the emotions attached to those memories from my own, so in part, I am all of my dynasty and yet also myself." Byzantine explained, his tone now calmer and more measured than before.

Salem's mind was now working hard to wrap itself around the notion presented by Byzantine. For how many generations have her and Ozma thought that they were the only immortals in Remnant? That they were the only ones who remembered in the world? It was irrelevant to Salem that the only immortal thing about him was his memory, it only mattered that now, there was another that shared a similarity to both her and Ozma.

Salem steadily composed herself mentally at the revelation and when she was ready, asked another question that popped into her mind when Byzantine gave his explanation.

"If you and your ancestors served me before in secret, why do you choose now to make yourself known to me?"

Byzantine broke into a smirk when he heard Salem ask him that.

"Again, you and Ozma were not the only ones that were cursed. Do you remember the man that helped you defy and rout the Gods?" Byzantine asked, his smile still present on his mouth. Salem narrowed her eyes as she racked her mind for who he was referring to before coming to a realization.

"Arcturius." Salem spoke the name softly.

"Yes, the greatest knight of the Empire. Killed by Ozma." At the mention of Arcturius' death, Byzantine noticed Salem's eyes shift downwards but chose not to comment on it.

"And now, professor of Beacon and in the clutches of Ozma."

"Arcturius is alive? How?" Salem asked, the shock now more evident in voice as she received another big revelation.
"As I said, he was cursed as well. Its specifics I do not know but he lives, and it seems like he does not know that his employer is Ozma." Byzantine explained.

"Even with your control over the Grimm and my influence throughout Remnant, Ozma and his allies are too entrenched to be rooted out easily and without extreme risks. However, if we can convince Arcturius to take up his vows to you again, not only will we have someone in their ranks, but we will also have the greatest knight Remnant has ever known. Victory will be all but assured for us."

"The time for the Empire to return has come, Imperia Maestia."

Salem felt fear. Fear that there are now two more people from her past that lived today. Fear that Ozma would find a way to ruin their plans. Fear that maybe Arcturius would choose Ozma over her. Fear for everything new.

And yet, accompanying that fear was an excitement she thought long lost to the years. There was a determination to see something through.

Most of all, there was hope in her that maybe, the final victory was truly within her grasp.