My Mansion of Gorgeous Maids in Another World-Chapter 77: Northern Wall Kingdom

"The Warden?"

The carriage's wooden wheels settled into silence on a forest glade unlike any Barbara had seen. The scent of evergreen mingled with damp earth, and distant frogs croaked mournfully beneath a moon veiled by drifting clouds. Inside, the kitchenette's stainless sink and compact stove gleamed—an otherworldly contrast to the ancient woodland beyond the frosted window.

Barbara Northern Seventh placed a slender hand upon the counter, her ebony waves falling in soft curls around a porcelain face framed by high cheekbones. Sapphire orbs, clear as the kingdom's northern fjords, darted from the lantern-lit fixtures to the tall man before her. Her beauty rivaled Eleonora's noble poise, and even in the cramped space, she radiated quiet authority.

Her breath stuttered like a sparrow's wings as she fought to steady her voice. "Prove it," she commanded, voice low but resolute. "Show me you are what you claim."

Jett's grin softened, and he gestured behind him. The lantern's glow revealed Eleonora stepping forward—her warm brown eyes and strong frame exuding the centuries-old dignity of Stormcloud's lineage. Mia followed, each step a whisper of silk; her pointed ears and luminous pallor marking her elven heritage. Then Noctlisa appeared, somber and serene, her head aloft before settling back upon invisible shoulders.

Barbara's heart thundered as she beheld the trio. The subtle click of Noctlisa's spine-less skull sent a thrill of unease through her veins. Only the Warden could command such devotion across bloodlines and races, she thought, her pulse pounding like war drums.

The forest outside seemed to lean in, its muted sounds and quivering shadows amplifying her shock. Lantern light trembled on the glass panes, and the occasional rustle of leaves sounded like whispered secrets. Even the kettle's faint hiss felt weighty with revelation.

Drawing a trembling breath, Barbara lifted her chin so the lantern's glow caught her eyes. "Yes," she whispered, awe softening her tone. "Only the Warden can have such various attendants wholly devoted to him."

Jett inclined his head, satisfaction in his gaze. Eleonora, Mia, and Noctlisa fell back into silent formation, their expressions unreadable. The moon broke free of its cloudy veil, casting silver shafts across Barbara's face and illuminating the resolve in her eyes.

She closed her palm over the quill at her waist, determination settling like steel in her spine. "Then you are indeed the Warden," she affirmed, voice firm. "And I, Princess Barbara Northern Seventh, have come to seek your counsel."

Jett's gaze softened, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his amber eyes. He crossed his arms, the runes on his sleeves catching the lantern light. "And why do you need my help, Princess?" His voice was steady, yet carried the weight of authority that had forged peace across these lands.

Barbara inhaled, the scent of pine and kettle steam filling her senses as she prepared to reveal the gravity of her mission. "The Northern Wall Kingdom grows bold," she began, voice low and urgent. "After recent setbacks against the eastern dragons, they see our weakened northern provinces as ripe for conquest. They mass their legions along the border, planning to overrun the frontier settlements and press inward until the heart of my kingdom falls."

At her words, the carriage seemed to darken, the lantern flame flickering as if in alarm. Jett's brow furrowed, and he took a step closer, the compact stove's hiss growing more insistent.

"Dragons and armies both threaten these lands," he murmured, recalling the scorched passes and battered fortresses. "Northern Wall's opportunism could spell disaster for your people."

Barbara nodded, her sapphire eyes reflecting the pale glow of moonlight. "If they break the border, no fortress will hold. The realm's balance will shatter—and our people will suffer."

Jett's jaw tightened, determination hardening his features. "Then we have much to discuss," he said, voice resolute. "Prepare yourself, Princess. The Warden's counsel is not given lightly. But when granted, it is absolute."

A rush of warmth flooded Barbara's chest, her muscles unwinding as joy bloomed behind her sapphire eyes. Relief sparkled like dawn light on frost-kissed leaves, and a soft smile curved her lips. He truly stands with me, she thought, heart soaring. With his strength beside mine, we might yet save our people. Even in the shadowed kitchenette, her spirit felt as bright as the open sky beyond the forest canopy.

Barbara's smile faded into determined resolve as she drew a breath. "My plan was to ride on to Stormcloud Keep," she explained, voice steady. "The other nobility and the Warden are gathering there— I hoped to warn them and ensure they stand ready."

Jett shook his head, the lantern casting shifting shadows across his angular features. He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, the compact stove's faint hiss underscoring the tense quiet.

"Stormcloud Keep is no place for you tonight," he said, voice calm but firm. "I intend to breach the capital of Northern Wall alone—draw their forces away. You would only slow me down."

A cold realization swept through her—his plan would place him in greatest danger. He's sacrificing his own safety for the realm, she thought, pulse quickening.

"Return with me instead," Jett continued, offering her a steady gaze. "I will carry your warning to the dukes once their capital is secured. Your safety is paramount—my duty, to protect all under this land's watch."

Barbara inhaled the pine-scented air, weighing his words. Her heart swelled with gratitude and concern in equal measure. He is the Warden in every sense, and his counsel is indeed absolute, she acknowledged silently.

...

Jett pushed back the carriage door and stepped onto the mossy glade, boots sinking slightly into the lush undergrowth. Moonlight spilled over his broad shoulders, illuminating the runic tattoos peeking from beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Barbara rose from the kitchenette stool, her skirts whispering against the wooden floor as she moved to the doorway.

Before her, Eleonora and Mia stood at attention within the carriage, while Noctlisa's empty cloak swayed in the still night air. In the first frost of dawn, Barbara's butler and two royal guards emerged from the shadows, concern etching their faces.

"Your Highness!" the butler exclaimed, bowing deeply. "Where are you going? And who is this—"

Barbara raised a hand, breath catching as she took in Jett's lithe form framed by the forest's silhouette. He offered a nod of greeting, amber eyes steady.

"He is the Warden," Barbara declared, voice clear and unwavering despite her racing heart. "I ride with him now."

The butler's jaw dropped. One guard stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Forgive me, Princess, but how do we know this stranger is truly the realm's Warden?"

Barbara held his gaze, recalling the seal, the magic, and the unbreakable calm that radiated from Jett. "You know the tales of his guardianship—of how he commands loyalty beyond race or station," she said softly. "He proved himself to me tonight. If you doubt, follow rather than bar my way."

A tense silence fell, broken only by the soft croak of a distant frog. Then Eleonora and Mia stepped forward to flank Jett, bows in hand. Noctlisa's head hovered beside them, expression unreadable.

The butler's eyes flicked to the trio, horror and fascination mingling. With a curt nod, he turned to the guards. "As her will is clear, we follow."

Barbara offered a small smile and motioned to Jett's carriage. "Bring our luggage," she instructed gently. "We ride deeper into Northern Wall's territory—to the capital itself."

As her retinue scurried to obey, Barbara took Jett's arm, leaning in close. Together, we face whatever awaits, she thought, determination blazing in her sapphire eyes.

They climbed into the lead carriage, its horse stamping as if sensing the journey's gravity. Lanterns flickered to life, casting their warm glow upon the princess's serene face. With a soft creak, the carriage lurched forward into the unknown depths of the enemy's land, Barbara's heart alight with equal measures of hope and dread.

The wheels of Jett's carriage thundered over the official roads of Northern Wall Kingdom, churning gravel and rattling the sturdy frame. Outside the frosted window, the landscape unfurled: jagged hills scarred by brittle frost, rocky outcrops perched like sentinels. Barbara pressed her palm against the window's chill glass, breath fogging the pane as she spoke of her homeland.

"In my kingdom," she began, voice low and animated, "the land is as fierce as its people. Winters claw at the soil, and summer's warmth is a fleeting gift. So we built our walls not only around villages and cities but within the provinces themselves—elevated roads carved into stone ridges, thick fortifications hugging cliff edges. They serve as both pathway and bulwark against the elements and invaders alike."

Jett listened, amber eyes following the rolling terrain. He flicked a glance to the next village's wooden wall rising atop a low embankment, exactly as Barbara described—planks reinforced by stout timbers, pointed stakes at regular intervals. The wall curved around the settlement like a protective embrace.

He nodded, a slow grin forming. "Your walls are clever—each one an artery of defense and trade," he observed, voice tinged with genuine interest. "I can see why they serve you well."

Barbara's smile brightened in the lantern light. "And here," she said, pointing as the carriage passed beneath a gatehouse flanked by watchtowers, "this village is built around a spring. The wall channels water into cisterns behind its ramparts, so even if besieged, they cannot be starved of sustenance."

The world outside blurred under the carriage's relentless pace, but for Jett and Barbara, each passing fortification was a testament to resilience. As the wooden walls receded into the night, their voices wove strategy and lore together, bound by the promise to defend a realm teetering on the edge of war.