The Secrets of Lore Seymour

18. Wall of Plaques

"Lies and disrespect," she repeats coldly. "The only lies and disrespect come from your very own church, the establishment built upon countless corpses."

"As if vampires do not have an egregious body count of their own," I rebute, which doesn't affect Arline in the least.

"I never said they didn't," she says matter-of-factly. "What I will say is this; anyone who picks a side and refuses to see its faults is wrong. The vampires are flawed, as is the Holy Church, the mortal nobility, and the stupid terrorist groups claiming to overthrow them. And those like us--" she holds out her arms. "We're caught in the crossfire of their political games, but what's the point in speaking to you about this?"

Arline sighs and goes to walk past me, but she stops to whisper in my ear, "If I find you spewing your church garbage to the children, I'll hang you from the trees by your guts."

"Duly noted," I growl. And this is why I didn't want to walk around the manor without my axe. Still, I've been taught how to fight through broken bones with nothing but my battered fists. I'll manage, if I have to.

Arline steps out of the room in time to greet the children. As expected, I and my lackluster candy are completely forgotten. They're all eager to see Lore. The younger ones grab Arline's hands to drag her towards the foyer while the remainder of the children tag along behind. At least they're munching on the candy. A part of me began to suspect they may throw it away under the belief that it was poisoned. I guess this counts as a very meager win.

Since there's no one else around, and I refuse to face Lore's teasing gaze as the children open their gifts, I take this opportunity to further investigate the schoolhouse.

Resting on one knee, I press my hand to the floor and ease my breaths in tune to the wind I hear whistling through an open window. I hum to an old song that I think my mother sang to me as a child. I've never been able to remember the song in its entirety. But I recall the feeling that this song is meant to be cherished. Memories of her, of home, are tarnished. When I think of them, I remember beasts ripping away all I ever knew, so I don't often think of them, which makes me forget. I wish it didn't. I wish I was brave enough to face the past.

My humming reverberates against the walls and through the halls in search of any echoes, a hidden chamber beneath the school or an unknown attic, but there's nothing. If Lore's hiding something, it isn't in here.

Still, my earnest curiosity urges me to search the rooms one by one. One room in particular catches my attention; the art room, which resides at the back of the schoolhouse in one of the larger rooms. Paint cans, brushes, art easels, and more flood the wide area. A few painted plaques hang on the back wall. When I read over them, I realize they're all names. The plaques in the middle of the wall have recognizable names; the children's. When I look further back, I find Cyan, Arline, and even Draven closer to the top of the wall.

"Are these all the children who have lived here?" I whisper.

"Snooping around, are we?" Draven calls.

I pivot on my heel to find him stepping through the doorway. His orange eyes drift to a plaque, likely his own, then returns to glaring at me. He must have recently returned or Lore lied about him returning, although I can't fathom why.

"That one is yours, isn't it?" I ask, pointing at the plaque. "What exactly did you draw? I can't discern whether they're cats, rabbits, dogs, or a derformed combination of the three."

"Lunch is being prepared. I suggest you change and clean yourself up so you'll be ready in time to eat," Draven says, likely unaware that I recently ate a late breakfast.

Regardless of his avoidance, I attempt another question, "I'm honestly asking, is that plaque yours? Did you grow up here too?"

His earlier look tells me that it is his, but I rather hear it from his own mouth. The more I learn about those around Lore, the easier it'll be to learn about the lord himself. Especially Draven, who follows Lore more than any other. If anyone knows a secret or may be aiding him, it's Draven.