He went to the innermost room of his mansion. It was dark inside, but he could see everything clearly because of his training. Inside the room there were several porcelain urns and before each urn there was a portrait of a man or a woman. It was the House of the Martyrs. He sat on the ground. Greeted each portrait as if they were living beings. Or as if the men in the portraits were moving like that of in Harry Potter. But nothing like that was the case. The people in the portraits were his family members who had died while fighting against werewolves through out the world. There were more than three hundreds of urns and portraits. Inside the urns were the ashes of the deceased. Their family's lineage started in Germany somewhere in the early nineteenth century. There was even a battle between Japanese werewolves and Silverarrows at Hongkong in 1941 under the cover of the Second World War. Several Silverarrows were martyred in that battle. John had to pay tribute to each of them everyday. He wanted to imbibe their courage and strength. And if commissioned slay every last bit of werewolf from the face of the earth.