As much as Maxwell wanted to defile Alexander's privacy, he decided to return his body to its rightful owner. But not before sneaking a peek inside his pants where he saw a humongous dick for a 15-year-old. It's uncut but the pink head is slipping out of the slit. There are signs that he's growing pubic hair down there. Maxwell caressed his fingers and felt the bristles tickle his calloused tip.
Alexander woke up a moment later, confused as to why he suddenly found himself in the gazebo when he was just by the well a moment ago. Then there is also the brimming pressure pent up inside his pants. He assumed that Maxwell had something to do with it because that kid doesn't smirk like that for no reason.
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Gilliard would soon come to report this new power to Deidrick who is in the middle of an afternoon tea. Upon seeing the status window of his son, the report barely surprised him anymore. His kid has unrivaled talents.
"You're a man of plans," Gilliard grabbed himself a cup of tea with crumpets on the side. "What is your next scheme in this theater of yours?"
"We've known each other for decades and you still mistake me for a man who chases danger. Maxwell will continue to hone his skills under your care, and I will not deviate from my duty to protect this realm." Deidrick noticed that Gilliard picked more crumpets than he did. He looked at a painting by the left side of the room where Rudeus von Vanderbilt is defending the first garrison against a horde of barbarians with a flaming sword. Gilliard followed his gaze, While his attention was away, Deidrick stole some crumpets from Gilliard's plate. "Maxwell will live like the rest of his older siblings, and the way I originally would as the third son of my father."
"Come on…" Gillard smirked. "His powers can wipe those damn Angols with just a flick of his finger. His minor talent, the one where he took control of that mixed breed, can be used to finally get back at house Scylla."
"I would be lying if the things you've said hadn’t crossed my mind. But, no. I will not force my son to do those things. He is his own person and all the choices he'll make are his alone. I will not repeat the same mistakes my father did. One thing to note, if I found out that you're seeding these ideas in my son's mind, I'll have you-"
"Yeah… Yeah… My head on a pike. Got that the first time you said it. Is my face that handsome? Everyone seems to be wanting it these days." Gilliard clutched on his plate. It seems that he must have eaten all of the crumpets. But that can't be, right? There should still be about three or four left.
"Another thing, we'll have to postpone your tutoring for half a month. Maxwell will have his 8th birthday this month. Do not fret, you are still compensated during your entire stay." Gilliard settled down his plate and flicked the crumbs in his lips. He gave his thanks and just as he was about to leave, Deidrick stopped him. "And please, refrain yourself from fucking with my staff. Two of my stableboys have broken hips and Greta lost her tooth. They are at the healing church as of this moment. They may love the way you had your way with them, but they are my staff and they have a job to do in this manor."
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Maxwell loves his tutor’s lessons. Ever since Gilliard got here, he managed to refine his elemental projections in various forms. He could conjure a spinning air so thin, it could slice a tree into two. He could conjure a ball of molten earth and have it shatter right before the moment of impact. He could even pull out metals from the ground and shape them into any way he wants. He made a metallic dildo once. Maxwell made sure that it has the utmost detail, from the circumcised tip up to the very veins protruding from the shaft. Gilliard saw it so he snatched it away. It surprised him to see that such a young kid could create an intricate object as if he'd seen one before. Of course, snatching it was just his reason to steal it. Maxwell heard him use the dildo that very night after his father forbade him from having his way with the staff.
As his birthday nears, Maxwell's magical training was stopped. In exchange, Alexander was there to teach him the formalities and etiquette of being a nobleman's son. He was taught the proper gestures when meeting a lord of a higher rank and a lower one. Even the placement of one's feet during conversations carries meanings of their own. Having them open means the conversation is enjoyable or intriguing. Having them closed or pointed away means the conversation at hand is but a useless one.
The birthday party is also a means to prop Maxwell at prospective betrothals, even though house Vanderbilt shunned the practice. People of lower houses will try their best to nab Maxwell. Alexander also reminded that Maxwell should also do the same effort in propping himself for the higher houses. Although, it would be difficult considering that he is just the third son of his father. He won't inherit his father's title or his land.
A few days before the party, Deidrick accompanied his son to the nearest city of Dresit. It's a large town divided by a river. The river diverges multiple times which turns the city into countless islands connected with intricate bridges. Alexander said that the city is often called a passageway to the land of the dead, for bridges are often attributed to the connection between this world and the next.
The reason why they are in the city is to find Mr. Yeller, an elf renowned for his talents in tailoring customized coats. For a man with fame and talents, it's surprising for Maxwell to see that his shop is found in a desolate part of the city. The shop is found underneath a large stone bridge with gargoyles overlooking the sides. The shop is in shambles, pieces of tattered fabric are strewn all across the floor. Then there's also the overbearing smell of eggs hanging in the stagnant air of the shop. From the mound of tattered clothes, a man with pointed ears rose up from his slumber. Maxwell imagined him to be older, but it seems he looks somewhere in his early 30s. Since he is an Elf, his real age is a whole lot higher than that. Mr. Yeller has dull grey eyes that look in perpetual fatigue, not to mention the deep bags under those eyes. His hair is gold nearing the shade of white. When he stood, he towered the already tall Deidrick. Mr. Yeller wore nothing but a pair of pants and an apron. So when he raised his arms to yawn, Maxwell saw how huge his biceps are. Three of his head would fit inside that thing.
"Marquess Vanderbilt, it is a surprise to see you here in my humble abode." Mr. Yeller said in a hushed tone.
Deidrick raised a brow, "Surprise? I sent a letter asking for your services a few days ago. I came personally when I failed to receive a reply."
"Oh, dear." Mr. Yeller pointed to his postbox by the door. It is overflowing with letters that have already fallen on the floor. One such letter has the insignia of House Vanderbilt. Its sealing wax is in one piece. "Nobles found my shop again and their requests piled up that I haven't seen your letter. I haven't slept a wink in days since those letters started piling up. I sincerely apologize for this grave mistake. I mean no offense to the act."
"This wouldn't be a problem if you work under me,"
"You know I cannot do that. This job is stressful for some but I love every second I am doing it. My talents should remain free for its true potential to proliferate,"
Deidrick grumbles, "Hmmm… I figured as much. Anyway, we came here to ask for your services. I will pay thrice the original amount just to have it done immediately."
Mr. Yeller walked closer to Maxwell and inspected the young lad with his intricate monocle consisting of golden gears and shimmering glass. "What is the occasion?"
"My young boy will celebrate his 8th birthday. I request a coat for both of us. Would it be possible at the end of the day?
"You jest. It will be done before the sun has reached its zenith." Mr. Yeller grabbed Maxwell by the hand who noticed that the tailor's fingers are more calloused than Alexander's. There are scars where needles struck in the past. He even swore that he saw a thread stuck under layers of skin.
Maxwell stood on a circular platform. He reminisces about the time Alexander undressed him. Maxwell doesn’t need to remember because Mr. Yeller is doing the same thing right now. He waved his finger and chanted a little spell, then all the buttons of Maxwell's clothes popped from their places. His tailcoat flew to an empty mannequin and his pants along with his braie fell on the floor. Maxwell quickly covered his exposed penis and asshole.
"Hush, child. I've seen your sibling's penis, your father's, and his father before him. I've seen dicks of various sizes and in different degrees of health. Your dick is no reason for embarrassment. Be a kind child and stay still while I measure your dimensions." Mr. Yeller adjusted his monocle then pressed a button. An array of lights poured forth and scanned the buck-naked child. The scan was instantaneous. Mr. Yeller had the dimensions memorized in his mind. "Although, your father had a smaller dick when he was your age. Good thing you took up after the males of your mother's lineage."
"Vincent! My child has no need of your jest. Maxwell, those are mere lies." For the first time, Maxwell has seen his father’s once stoic face reduce itself to an embarrassing blush.
Mr. Yeller asked Maxwell to sit at a chair, still naked and thankful that the air was stagnant in the building. His father followed next. The same thing happened. He stood on the podium and Mr. Yeller's magic had him undressed. This would be Maxwell's first time seeing his father naked. Like he originally thought, his father is packing serious muscles underneath all those formal clothes. He is quite hairy too, with a snow-colored beastly ruffle in his pecs. It descends down his groin where a large fat penis hangs in an equally hairy leg.
Deidrick sat down beside his naked son. "It was I who was actually lying. I was cursed as a child, you see. It was meant for my father but the mage at fault failed to realize that the hair he procured for the spell was actually mine. I was cursed to have my manhood remain that of a newborn. I will produce no sons or daughters, no heir. That was until they found the mage and had him break the spell before beheading him at this city's plaza. And look, I have a healthy lineage of four sons. Vincent is just mad that I have a bigger penis now than he does. For a human to best an elf is a blow to their pride."