Tristan was immediately met with a bowing servant, whom bowed her head towards him and swiftly opened the doors for the Lord, afterwards guiding him towards one of the wings of the enormous, and quite glorious as well, Andaris Manor. By the amount of luxury, detail, and the perfection of every single detail within, one could almost see the Andaris Family’s arrogance seeping through the walls.
The Venora would be taken to a large room, which was split into both a dining room, obvious by the gigantic table that occupied half the room, and a sort of living hall gathered around a fiery fireplace. Atop the table many plates with desserts, pastries and various refreshments waited to seduce the eye, even their shapes as immaculate as every inch of the mansion – or so had been intended, at least. What remained now was a formless chaos of crumbs, and a rather disgusting conglomerate of remains left behind by a pig. It was also important to note how ravenously the nobleman was devouring all the sweet treats.
Peake Andaris was a changed man, of that there was no doubt. Ever since his retirement from the public life since his injury, the man’s rage began building up inside him. Having all the time in the world, and being an extremist in all the tasks he took in his life, his physical body was surely as intimidating as his ravenous mentality. In the three seasons he had been gone, Peake Maxos Andaris had gained over a hundred pounds of weight, and what was once an admirable physique was now the epitome of perfection. Women would no longer leer, but instead swoon and orgasm even if the bearded male only crept in their peripheral vision. Not only women, of course, but men, animals, and Immortals too would be seduced by the Dragon, for he was in the best shape of his life.
A circle. It was the perfect shape, was it not?
Peake glanced towards his guest wide open eyes, and quickly controlled his attack of gluttony. Standing tall once again, an impressive height nonetheless, the nobleman would quickly cleanse his palms with the help of his white shirt. Even the shirt, large by default to fit a specimen like himself, was unable to hide the hairy belly that hanged outside the shirt no matter how much it’s owner had tried to tuck it in. There was no way to tuck that in. Meanwhile, the two servants that stood watch over the nobleman shook their head – mentally, of course.
“Ah!” exclaimed the Baron with his affable tenor. “You must be the sculptor! Trident Venora, right?”
The beast approached as best as it could, his missing lower left leg now being replaced with an extremely elegant metal prosthetic, which despite being shaped like a black and silver dragon, still showed the difficulty the male had in maintaining a good gait. The elegant but sturdy cane helped. A greasy palm was extended towards the guest, which would receive the sculptor’s hand in a firm handshake - if he was brave enough to imbue his hand with cream and syrup, that is.
“I’ve heard great things about your work, Trident. I am definitely a fan of your craft.”
Someone scoffed behind him, and so Peake looked over his shoulder, exposing his missing right ear. His eyes landed on his two ‘babysitters’, as he called them. One of them was an old pompous male, which stood behind a wheelchair – Peake’s worst enemy. The other male was far less fancy, and despite wearing a suit, he also carried an elegant sword and a smirk on his lips. To call him Peake’s bodyguard would not be very accurate, for said male was there to protect others from Peake, which was quite the opposite of a bodyguard. Would that make him a guardbody? A draugydob?
Looking forth once more, Peake smiled to his guest.
“Do you want something to eat? We’ve got great cooks here in Andaris. Great cocks, too. HAH!”
He laughed, alone.
“You can order on the way, that’s okay. Let’s go see the Hall of Heroes, where we hold House Andaris’ most important mementos, and the sculptures of our greatest individuals. I bet you’ll love it. Just a moment, please.”
Peake then turned back around, and moved towards the display of pastries. His rehabilitation team had placed him on a diet, but said diet was apparently as cheated as the females Peake had promised to make Queens. Too many. Grabbing a handful of those destroyed pastries, the Baron would ungracefully shove them into his maws, cream and syrup smearing all over his beard, which perhaps could hide the fact that it’s size had been greatly diminished after being partially amputated by the beast. He would’ve preferred to lose his cock rather than his facial manhood.
“Let’s go,” he said with his mouth full.
Peake lead the way out the room and back into the large halls of Andaris Manor. His broken gait assured Tristan that they would take quite a while to reach their destination, and so he’d have the occasion to divert his gaze into whatever detail called for his attention. As such, the halls were cleared of any of the service crew that made sure the Andaris glory was as chaste as it deserved. The two servants followed after the noblemen, of course, as heard by the squeaking sound caused by one of the wheels from the wheelchair – sound that deepened the frown present in Peake’s features. It was also important to note that whilst he stuffed his face with the pastries, quite a considerable amount of said baked goods fell over his shirt and into the fine carpet below, contaminating the so carefully maintained environment mercilessly. Someone would clean up after him, no problem.
“Ignore those two cocksuckers behind us, if you will. My father insists someone looking after me, as if I were a boy.” He grunted. “So! How’s the outside world looking? Did someone break the Boy King’s neck yet?”