The Contract Marriage for Attilenta's Revenge - Chapter 16

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Atilenta’s Revenge Through a Contract Marriage — Episode 016
Henrik didn’t turn a single page of the thick book he’d produced, only watched me intently as he posed his question.
He was descended from the Black Dragon and a prince of this nation. I had no reason to invite unwelcome scrutiny by denying the existence of Transcendent Beings before him.
“I confess only that my smallness of mind has left me with insufficient faith in those great ones who cultivated this land and founded this realm.”
“As you well know, it’s best to refrain from heretical speech whenever possible.”
Henrik’s words, weighted by his characteristically low voice, sounded like a cold warning, yet also like kindly counsel from one directed toward a useful instrument.
I knew no one stood within earshot, but still I answered quietly.
“I understand. I speak only to you, and for what lies ahead.”
Now that I’d laid bare this truth to him, it seemed reasonable to hear from Henrik about the Black Dragon as well. Of course, finding such information myself in this dense forest of books would be a pleasure too—but.
According to what Princess Barsha had said at the recent banquet, and from what I’d observed, he was quite a busy man. Still, if by some chance he found a spare moment now, as he seemed to have, I thought I might venture a request.
“I see.”
Even as a member of this royal house admitting heretical thoughts, Henrik showed scarcely any reaction.
I recalled my days in the Kingdom of Francia. Between the shelves stood only books, but I—locked in the past—saw nothing else. Treatises on theology, tomes on the Temple and its ways.
Perhaps I once believed in God. Or perhaps, looking back, I merely feigned belief before the king, Selena, and Antonio. In truth, I wield Magic thanks to my mother’s power alone.
Not like the priests of Francia, or those vaunted prophets who claim genuine faith in God.
“Talent and faith are commonplace necessities for Magic.”
Just then, I noticed his voice had shifted in tone. Less cold than before—something almost emotional had crept into it.
For a moment, I stared at him with wide eyes.
“Even here, very rarely, a mage of extraordinary talent has appeared. But most of them served in the Temple. Unlike you.”
I had assessed his voice as autumn-cold, his expression and bearing dignified yet composed and measured.
Now it was different. Like someone fascinated by something remarkable. He seemed to regard me as a talented, exceptional mage.
I understood why Henrik, outwardly serene as ever, had formed such a judgment.
In this world, there exists no mage without faith in Transcendent Beings. So it was that I had kept hidden from Antonio and Selena the fact that I wield Magic through my Mirror.
My mother’s dying wish—to keep secret my abilities and my Mirror—was surely meant only to protect me. To wield Magic without faith in the Goddess Pria, whom Francia worships, is in truth nothing less than heresy. That is why my mother was called a Witch.
I happened to be curious about Bwendia’s Magic as well. For the Ring on my finger seemed to contain some mysterious power, much like my mother’s Mirror, through which Magic was channeled.
“Your Highness must be the same?”
Perhaps he was even more talented a mage than I. Just as my mother had breathed Magic into the Mirror, perhaps he himself had inscribed the Magic of this pledge into the Ring. But instead of answering, Henrik crossed his arms lightly and asked me:
“How did you learn to wield Magic?”
“From my mother’s teachings, largely.”
“What teachings would allow one to wield Magic without faith? I’ve never heard such a thing.”
“…She lived in a forest, it seems. A tribe that borrowed power from spirits, she said.”
“A forest in Francia?”
I paused, my lips moving slightly, then slowly shook my head.
“No. My mother was born in Teresia.”
I felt as though I were confessing far more truth than I’d originally planned. But there was no turning back or retreating now.
I calculated that having come this far, I might venture bolder requests of him when the need arose.
“A forest across the sea, then. I’ve heard of it—they call it a forest of Demi-humans.”
In that moment, a peculiar thought struck me. My mother was surely human. Just like me. Even if she bore the stigma of being called a Witch in Francia, no one ever said she was anything other than human.
Yet according to what he said, the forest of Teresia was home to Demi-humans.
Then was my mother half-blood? Like this man who carries the blood of the Black Dragon, did she too inherit the lineage of something far from ordinary?
Like him, did I inherit my mother’s bloodline and her power, and so possess Magic in this way?
“Does Bwendia also have another name? I know only the name Black Dragon.”
“If you wish to learn of dragons, I’ll recommend something suitable.”
Henrik, familiar with the place, quickly found a few worn volumes and handed them to me. Then he spoke quietly and gently:
“People exalt the exceptional on a whim, and reject it just as capriciously.”
“I understand. That’s simply how people are.”
It seemed he felt the strange kinship I felt. Yes, both he and I were that way. I didn’t wish to be foolish and weigh our respective sorrows against each other like a competition. But his words struck a deep chord with me.
“You speak as though observing from a distance.”
“Your Highness, though you already know—I’ve experienced both sides, and I’m weary of them both.”
I answered honestly. It was too late to lie anyway. If he felt this subtle resonance too, he would accept my answer without great hesitation.
“Hah…”
Henrik laughed a bit more audibly than before. The cool, harsh quality that so suited his dark hair and amethyst eyes was absent. This time, his laughter was like still wind. Remarkably, that quiet, fresh smile suited him just as well.
The fact that the atmosphere didn’t freeze over was, for me, a very positive sign. My answer had evidently struck the right note this time too.
“Read those books, and if questions remain, I’ll answer them for you.”
That Henrik, for all his busyness, would carve out time and give me information—this was a fair trade indeed. It felt worthwhile to speak honestly. I too smiled in return.
“If Your Highness tells me directly, I’ve nothing but gratitude for it. I’ll speak with you after I’ve read them, Your Highness.”

* * *
But I could not read all the books Henrik had recommended in a single day. Beyond attending to my personal cultivation of Magic, I had much to do as a member of the Bwendofska Royal Court.
“Your Highness. Your Highness has received many invitations to banquets and tea parties in your honor.”
It was the height of autumn, and the window was filled with leaves turning a riot of crimson and gold. Poznan, who attended to my appearance with unfailing diligence each morning, pressed into my hands a jewel-studded letter case from the moment I rose.
I glanced through the invitations with an indifferent eye.
Many unfamiliar names appeared among them. I had not yet fully adapted to the social circles of this kingdom. Observing my uncertainty, Poznan spoke with measured care.
“The choice rests with you, Your Highness. In a sense, each gathering holds its own importance—though not always equally so. I would advise you not to accept invitations indiscriminately. For the sake of Henrik’s honor and your own, it would be wise to be selective.”
“Then, which would you recommend, Poznan?”
As if to verify what suited me best, Poznan drew forth various earrings and necklaces from the jewel case, then answered with conviction.
“What matters most to you now, Your Highness, is hosting the Diplomatic Gathering. The other engagements can wait. Everyone anticipates your presence, but they possess sufficient patience to allow you time.”
“You’re right.”
“Of course, I need not remind you of Francia’s customs—you know them well. However, regarding the manner of entertainments in this realm, there are several particulars I might illuminate. Though you have experienced the wedding celebration hosted by Princess Barsha, organizing a new gathering yourself is quite another matter, I believe.”
I studied Poznan’s neat black hair and the composed gray eyes that met mine with unwavering calm at every moment.
She was quick and efficient, yet never hurried; she maintained an unfailing courtesy toward me while executing her duties and offering counsel with practiced assurance.
That was the very nature of a lady’s attendant. Back in Francia, I had kept only Jaema close as a servant—a tutor figure—so this was my first experience with such a dedicated attendant.
A light smile crossed my lips.
“Poznan, where did you learn all of this?”
“From the education provided by my family, Your Highness, and moreover, all of this is at your behest. So you need only command me freely and receive whatever information you require.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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