My Mansion of Gorgeous Maids in Another World-Chapter 31: Dragon Slayers

"I dare not, Lord Warden," a deep male voice rumbled above Jett.

Then, two porcelain claws tipped in cobalt-blue nails emerged from the shadows, flanking him and dispersing the swirling white clouds. Each claw rose as tall as Jett himself. The guardian’s white muzzle lowered as his massive body settled in the vast chamber. His silver-slit eyes bored into Jett, and his mouth—wide enough to shelter Jett and his maids—curved into a silent greeting.

It’s a fucking dragon. I just talked back to a fucking dragon!

Even with his newfound powers and surging confidence, Jett couldn’t stop his mind from racing at the absurdity of the situation. A week ago, he’d been a manaless human; now he was Warden, speaking above dragons—and he’d even made their guardian bow with a single question. He dared not glance at his maids but heard their collective gasp. Mia was particularly vocal. He tuned them out.

Yeah, I’m the Ruler of Heavens and Storm, but this dragon just whipped up a whole cloud show on me. I gotta chill or they’ll see I’m freaked out.

Jett forced a confident grin. "I cannot fault you after witnessing your full form. You have my welcome in this mansion. May I inquire your name?"

"Skytianeus, Sky Dragon," the guardian intoned proudly, "who ascended Dragon Mountain—whose summit pierces the Draconic Skies—over three thousand years ago, and claimed the Guardian’s throne."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, and allow me to congratulate you on your ascension, Skytianeus," Jett replied. "I am Jett Talon, the Warden. Before we proceed with your oath, be advised that my identity must remain confidential—for now."

He had told the World Tree and the Dullahan Guardian the same upon their mental greeting. He preferred to keep a low profile until he understood more about this world.

"Understood, Lord Warden. Your discretion is safe with me," Skytianeus bowed.

Jett met his gaze with composed formality. "State the purpose of your visit."

Skytianeus hesitated. "It’s a long tale. Perhaps easier if I shift to human form for proper talk."

"Go ahead," Jett said.

The dragon closed his eyes. His body glowed silver, ribbons of light swirling until they formed a perfect human figure: a man in porcelain robes, hair cut short, eyes still silver slits. He looked every bit a celebrity on Earth—until he awkwardly humped forward, waving his hand as if begging a crane’s attention. Jett arched an eyebrow. Mia froze. Noctlisa swallowed. A dragon’s manners don’t always translate.

"Bring us a table and chairs—snacks and drinks, too," Jett commanded, raising his hand.

"At your command, Master Jett," Mia said, bowing deeply.

"At your command, Master," Noctlisa echoed.

They spun and retreated to prepare. The dragon watched them go, then eyed Jett.

"I must admit my surprise that the dullahan royals were overlooked for the maid’s appointment."

Jett tilted his head. "How’d you know? Noctlisa’s First General’s daughter, not royalty."

"Their purebloods bear black hair and white skin. Mixed blood shows other traits," Skytianeus explained.

"Interesting. And you guessed Mia’s elven heritage?"

"Her movement has the polish of elven royalty," Skytianeus replied. "Both were accepted here, so I trust they’ll serve you well. Our race sent candidates too; one was chosen." freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"I look forward to a dragon maid," Jett said, smiling. I wonder what a dragon tastes like—must differ from elves and dullahans. Hell, how does human pussy taste?

He forced a laugh and scrubbed his expression.

"She’s the twin of our Empress," Skytianeus chuckled. "I know little else, but she’ll be... interesting. She’ll probably ask you to kill me."

"Kill you?" Jett narrowed his eyes.

His maids returned with the table and drinks, arranging everything without missing a beat.

"Why would she want you dead?" Jett asked.

"All because I won’t relinquish the Guardian’s throne," Skytianeus sighed. "Eighty percent of dragons want my head for the same reason."

"It would seem one can attain the Guardian’s Throne, yet surely there is more to this rite than mere ascension," Jett observed.

After all, Skytianeus himself had declared his ascent of Dragon Mountain and his claim to the Throne, implying he vanquished his predecessor by force.

"Is the Throne open to challenge by any dragon?" Jett inquired, his tone probing.

"Indeed," Skytianeus replied with quiet authority. "Tradition holds that any dragon may aspire to become the Dragon Guardian. This station bestows manifold blessings and only the mightiest may claim it, rendering the achievement itself a crowning honor. The caveat lies in the blessing imbued by the Mountain itself—making it virtually impossible for another dragon to slay me in honorable combat. Thus, all challengers must first prove their mettle in the trials and then ascend the Mountain to face me."

"And... you retain this blessing?" Jett hesitated.

"Precisely," Skytianeus affirmed. "Throughout our storied history, Guardians have set aside this boon to allow fair duels with challengers. I, however, dare not surrender it. My purpose as Guardian endures, and I shall not risk its compromise." Skytianeus explained.

"Guardian Skytianeus," Jett began with a deliberate pause. "Tradition endures for a reason. I understand some dragons—perhaps one in five—may regard these rites lightly, even among kin. Yet I cannot dismiss what is sacred. These duels exist so that Guardians adapt as the ages turn, correct? That is my understanding. Unless you provide a compelling justification for retaining your station, I fear I cannot offer my assistance."

Skytianeus’s voice deepened, resonating through the chamber. "Indeed, Lord Warden, I possess profound cause. My people, the Sky Dragons, teeter on the brink of extinction. Our ability to procreate has waned beyond any explanation. From birth, my tribe secluded me from other draconic kin, forging my strength unchallenged, that I might reclaim our fate. Though I ascended to the Throne, the blessing I bestowed upon our race only marginally improved our ability to procreate; it did not restore it fully. Three millennia have passed, yet extinction’s shadow remains."

The dragon paused, shoulders heavy. "But greater trials followed. Humanity has birthed countless Heroes—so-called dragon slayers—who march upon our lands and slay my brethren in merciless pursuit. My kin for the reasons I stated spurn my Guardian’s blessing. Humanity’s numbers multiply with alarming swiftness. My tribe stands vulnerable to their greed."

He lowered to his knees, head bowed. "I entreat you, Lord Warden: bring my kin and bloodline to Dragon Mountain’s peak. Aid us in curbing humanity’s avarice and ensuring the survival of my race."