Seymour Manor rests at the end of a long path far from the hustle and bustle of city life. The chimneys and peaks of the home appear over the tops of the trees first. Then through the forest, I get the first glimpse of the estate. A venerable home of old money based on the gothic architecture and brick styling that lacks the metal sheets and piping found so frequently within the cities. Beautiful in it’s simplicity, surrounded by a thick forest and lush green grass rather than gray smog, clinking gears, and over stacked buildings.

Laughter of children garners my attention. To the left, four kids frolick among the trees. Two dangle from a branch, kicking at each other to see who falls first. The remaining two giggle and squeal as they run from a woman through the yard. A woman that I soon realize to be a monster.

She, too, takes notice of me. Coming to a halt, she stares at me with pink eyes that shimmer brightly against her brown skin. She calls to the children, though her voice doesn’t quite reach me. Ushering the children to her, she guides them towards the estate while continuously glancing over her shoulder like I’m the beast in this scenario.

I was told of the children--I believe there’s four more--and how Lord Seymour had another dhampir working at the estate. However, I’m still baffled that he allows her to keep watch over the children alone. The wolf should not be welcome to play among the sheep.

Sighing, I clutch my luggage tighter and continue to the manor. A stone ramp built to the side of the steps leads to the tall front door. After a few knocks, the wooden door opens to reveal yet another monstrosity; a vampire.

My initial instinct is to reach for the axe strapped to my back, to defend myself or relieve him of his head, but that is not why I’m here. Although the option isn’t entirely off the table, depending on what circumstances may arise in the future.

“Good afternoon, Sir. Are you the Paladin of the Holy Church? Seten, was it?” The vampire with hair red as blood dons a polite smile that even a fool would see to be fake. No doubt he isn’t putting in the effort to try otherwise.

“Seren, actually, and yes, I am. You must be Draven.” I offer up my hand that he’s as unwilling to shake as I am to offer.

“Yes, I am Draven Morrow, the head butler of this fine estate.” His orange eyes look unnatural against his pale skin, but I know they’re a sign that he is not one to be taken lightly. He shows little fear towards me either, holding himself high with the unnatural height pure blooded vampires possess. Once their appearance alone made my knees shake. Now, I know I can take them head on and never lose anything to them again.

“You’ve had a long journey from the capital. Please, come inside,” Draven says. He steps aside to allow me entrance, although I suspect he’d much rather run me through with the talons on the tip of his fingers.

An immaculate foyer greets me, as expected. Marbled floors shimmer against the afternoon sun cascading through the windows. A double staircase leads to the second floor, one side contains a chair lift. Above the room, a diamond chandelier rests smack dab in the center, casting shapes of snowflakes across pale yellow walls.

“Do you not have other luggage?” Draven inquires from the open doorway while observing the empty path behind us.

“Those of faith have little need for material possessions. The Three Mothers will always provide,” I reply.

“I suppose so.” Draven gestures to the right. “Your room is this way.”

“I’d rather meet with Lord Seymour first. Is he home?” There were two cars out front, but one never knows how many vehicles a Lord wishes to waste his money on. I’ve heard from the Prophet that the king has nearly two dozen vehicles. Almost one for every day of the month.

“Yes. His Grace is in his office.” Draven heads to the left and I follow. He moves without making a single sound, as if the floorboards strengthen themselves in his presence to prevent even the tiniest noise.

I watch him carefully, prepared for him to turn around and reach for my throat. That’s normally what vampires try to do on the battlefield. I’m not really accustomed to following some into a home where they supposedly won’t cause any harm.

The walk is short to Lord Seymour’s office. Draven knocks, then bows his head. “My Lord, the Paladin of the Holy Church has arrived. He wishes to speak with you.”

“Send him in,” Lord Seymour replies in a soft tone of voice that I did not expect.

“I will take your luggage to your room.” Draven offers while nodding towards my suitcase. I leave it with him before entering Lord Seymour’s office to be surprised once more by his appearance. From what I heard about him, I imagined a beastly man as rotten on the outside as he is on the inside. However, he is actually… quite unexpected.

“Seren, Paladin of the Holy Church, I welcome you to my home,” Lord Seymour says from behind his desk. Unlike Draven, his smile offers a far more welcoming aura that radiates just as strongly from his piercing and lustrous blue eyes. They’re eerily bright in contrast to his black hair and alabaster skin.

“I thank you, as does the Holy Church. We both appreciate your agreeing to these investigations and offering up your hospitality, Lord Seymour,” I say with a nod of feigned respect.

“There is nothing to thank me for. How could I possibly say no to helping the Holy Church?” Lord Seymour laughs.

His fangs that are too sharp to be mortal, but not sharp enough to belong to a vampire, peek over his bottom lip. He also doesn't carry the same looming height of a pure blood vampire, but does remain a tad taller than most. And though his response came across as humorous, there was an annoyed cadence to his voice warning me not to be fooled by his charming demeanor.

“After all, it is my duty as Lordship over these lands to ensure the safety of my people. If the church believes the Red Moon group has begun housing their operations in my state, I cannot sit back and watch. It is an honor to have the Holy Church send one such as you to assist in the protection of my people,” he adds while rising from his desk.

The money of the Seymour family and it’s boundless proprietaries keeps Lord Seymour dressed immaculately. He likely wears the finest suits available, ones that hug his wide shoulders, thin waist, and long legs in an alluring fashion. It would be hard for anyone to take their eyes off him, regardless of the fact that he’s a dhampir; the unnatural offspring of a mortal and a vampire.

“Would you care for a drink?” he asks, already standing in front of a glass cabinet. He retrieves a bottle of red liquid, grinning when I stare incredulously at it. “Don’t worry, this is red wine. Blood is much thicker.”

Lord Seymour sits on one of the couches in the center of the room. He adjusts his loose braid to rest over his shoulder while I take a seat on the couch across from him. My axe rests against the arm of the couch, close enough to reach should I need it.

He pours a glass for the both of us, then takes a long drink and licks his lips. “Although, as a Paladin to the church, you should be able to easily distinguish blood from wine, shouldn’t you?”

Ah. I see that he’s going for the passive aggressive route. Yet another surprise as I had steeled myself for a more hostile working environment; blunt, rude, and dismissive remarks rather than a more gentle prodding. I’m not sure which I would prefer, so I guess we’ll see as the days go by.

“Yes, I have seen my fair share of bloodshed while seeking justice for all those harmed by the beasts of Vexsis and their Dark Lord Elminore,” I say before taking a drink too.

Lord Seymour peers over the rim of his glass, showing no reaction to the mention of the vampire’s homeland and master.

“As you are already aware, my mission is to locate any possible leads to the Red Moon terrorist group, but the Holy Church, as well as myself, would like to do more,” I say, preferring to get straight to business. The faster I get out of here the better.

“More?” he hums.

“Any city the Red Moon moves to becomes overrun by illegal vampires and thus infested with crime. No doubt the same will happen here. I hope you’ll allow me to accompany you on your ventures. I’ve been informed that you keep a close watch and involve yourself frequently in the crimes that take place in your state. Surely you wouldn’t mind another pair of well trained eyes at the scene? There could always be a connection to the Red Moon that may lead us to finally capturing their leaders."

“So you wish to play investigator with me?” He snickers.

“Putting it simply, yes.”

“I would never deny the help. It’s always needed. Do as you please.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I will do my best to remove the Red Moon group and spare your people from the havoc they bring.”

“I’m sure you will, however--” Lord Seymour tips his glass towards me and smirks. “Since we’ll be partners for some time, I would prefer it if you called me by name.”

I hesitate at the notion. “Are you certain that’s appropriate? You are of the nobility.”

“By adoption, as I’m sure you were already made aware.”

When I don’t immediately call him by name, he puzzles me a third time in a day by puckering his lips into a childish pout. I don’t quite know how to process the expression. Vampires and dhampir snarl, spit, and curse at me. Pouting is a definite first.

“Come now, must we be tied to old and frivolous traditions? Call me Lore. I insist.”

I really rather not. First name basis with a dhampir lord has never been on my wish list, but I was asked by the church to get this job done. If playing friendly is what I have to do, then so be it.

I nod skeptically. “As you wish… Lore.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He stands up and adjusts his jacket, leaving the empty glass on the table. “Come along, I will give you a short tour before dinner.”

I follow Lore out of his office and through the halls. He speaks of troubling topics in town that may or may not have to do with the Red Moon as well as describing the areas we pass. I listen closely to every word, take in every hall, and make note of every closed door. A map formulates in my head, as does the beginning of a profile on the man chattering away in front of me. The way he carries himself with poised confidence, how his words carry double meanings, every single moment with him memorized because I am not here to search for a terrorist group.

I’m here to determine if Lore Seymour is the most prolific serial killer our world has ever known.