It was the single most important duty a Left Hand of the Goddess had. To find a worthy apprentice and honourable successor.

True, his own honoured predecessor had failed to find a successor of her own. But she had served the Goddess since she was a girl, and had died in dignified and glorious single combat. Only on one occasion early in his tenure had he slipped up and insulted the Wall of Names, and his Goddess' genuine offence and the flicker of hurt in her eyes at what he had said and her subsequent and very firm explanation of the most Holy of sites in creation had filled him with such shame for his words. She had not even needed to punish him further, the foul feeling of utter disgrace was enough.

But oh! How he had suffered disappointment after disappointment, shame after shame! Had he not tried to extend the greatest honour that could ever be granted to those he had hunted down? Had he not endeavoured to give them as great a chance at glory as possible?! They should have been grateful! They should have been worthy!

But they weren't. None of them were. And so time and time again he had returned to his Queen's court despondent and borderline heartbroken. And today, when he'd failed to even get to his target, his failure might have been even greater if not for one thing..

He'd found her.

Taran Aprisum's young niece, Trifa. His target's niece, all he had left of his much loved elder brother. Oh he had certainly expected to kill her. He'd killed enough children in the past, some hadn't even been killed as a distraction or lure. Taran Aprisum was part of Menagerie's makeshift council as the respected head of the Menagerian Guard, and his brutal murder whilst on a vacation cruise alongside his beloved niece, in Mistral no less, whilst the Designated Successor of Menagerie was in Atlas, was intended to add yet more fractures in both the Menagerian Government and the Faunus Protest Movement. Or even fracture it entirely.

He had lain in wait in their cabin, hidden in a nook in the ceiling and out of sight. Forced to entertain himself with memories of happier and more bloody times whilst his prey were strolling the decks and enjoying the sights and the amenities and the relaxing atmosphere. But as his anticipation grew, his thoughts started to shift. From contemplation to realisation and on to inspiration.

Trifa was a Faunus. And she was young. Young enough to be moulded. Young enough to be his apprentice.

So he had adapted the plan on the fly, for surely it would be better if the more radical side of the FPM had a trained and willing military mind on their side, no? That would aid in the chaos Her Grace had wished to spread albeit in a different vein, and as She was already collecting and forming a team of agents, his little apprentice would surely be able to serve alongside them.

So he had made liberal use of the delightful collection of chemicals Ambrose had given him to cause an explosion in their room and simply taken her in the chaos that unloaded, cooing calming words to her as she watched the ship burn and the screams of the wounded and dying and scared filled the air like triumphant music to herald their escape.

It had taken a month to travel unseen across Anima to get to the hidden airstrip that had got him to the continent in the first place. A month he spent extolling the greatness and divinity of Her Grace, How she alone stood against the wickedness and predetermination of the Brother Gods and as her loyal Servants they would finally free the world from the hateful cycle imposed upon them by absent deities and their loyal Wizard ally.

She'd made a single attempt at running but….

"Oh" Tyrian all but cooed with delight as he explained it to his colleagues when he was explaining the details of his mission as the group made their way back from the airship docks just south of Her Grace's Palace. Ambrose was landing his own ship as he and his soon-to-be Apprentice were arriving, and Slate had already disembarked his airship, and calmingly awaited them with nothing but an Observer for company. As he was the Left Hand of the Goddess, he had gone first to report how things had gone. He was functionally Second Amongst the Court, after all. "She fought! It was...exquisite. Her silk wrapping around my neck...her desperate attempts to pull on it and hang me like a common thief.." Tyrian all but shivered with ecstasy of the memory. "Alas! She is but a child…and lacked the strength to do it."

But one day, she would. One day, she could give him an honourable exit before she fully ascended to his position..one last battle to get his blood pumping and heart thundering before his body was burned atop his pyre and his name was carved into the Wall along with the rest of the honoured dead.

"Do my eyes deceive me, Petra." A youthful voice broke in, clear and confident. "Or has Master Tyrian brought us another sister?"

"It does appear so, Vernal." A second, younger voice answered. The owners of the voices, easily recognisable as children, soon appeared at the top of the path ahead. Both of the children donned dark robes, akin to the ones worn by Her Grace, as befitted her personal acolytes. But whereas Petra allowed her red hair to tumble down her back like a wild wall of fire, Vernal had kept her brown hair almost boyishly short.

"She looks younger than you." Vernal replied with a grin. "So congratulations, it appears that you're an elder sister now. Welcome to the club"

Tyrian let out a giddy laugh, as he ushered the girl ahead of him. "Dearest acolytes, may I introduce the young Trifa Aprisum. The niece of my target and my soon-to-be Apprentice. I'd call my mercy charity, but as we all know~"

"Unnecessary charity is for the weak or the lazy." Petra smiled. "And our Queen is neither."

"Just so!" Tyrian happily agreed.

Vernal merely rolled her eyes, and strolled up to the shivering Spider girl, casually throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Have any of these idiots actually welcomed you to the Court yet, Trifa?"

Hesitantly, the younger girl shook her head.

"Well then, first things first. Be welcome to the Court of Eternal Night, seat of Her Most Divine Grace and God-Queen of the Grimm, Salem. Secondly, it is strange. Petra usually prides herself on her manners." A shark-like grin crossed her face now. "I guess we'll need to tell Her Grace that she needs more lessons, right Sister?"

Petra let out a startled squark, and tried to hush the elder girl in full view of the other members of the Court. "H-Hey! There's no need to bother Her Grace with that!"

"No need to bother me with what, my dear Little Courtiers?"

Both girls spun around, and gave deep and respectful bows as Salem herself approached, an Observer of her own following close behind. The God-Queen of the Grimm wore an indulgent, amused smile on her face as her eyes scanned the group in front of her. Tyrian had flat out dropped to one knee in reverence, but both Slate and Ambrose had simply bowed.

"Welcome home to you all." Salem greeted them. "It gladdens my heart to see you all back here and safe. But I must confess my surprise, Tyrian. You did not return alone."

"No, your Grace." Tyrian answered. "I feared that slaying her would be wasteful, offensively. She is young, and she has innate talent. So I…adapted your orders."

Salem stood silent for a few moments as she thought over her Hand's words, before slowly striding forward to crouch down to get face-to-face with her newest Courtier. Trifa took a deep breath, and shot a defiant look at the woman peering at her with red eyes.

At which point, Salem merely let out a laugh.

"Oh yes, I approve. I truly do." She said, "Tyrian has found a worthy apprentice in you, Trifa Aprisum."