The Contract Marriage for Attilenta's Revenge - Chapter 17

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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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Contract Marriage for Atilenta’s Revenge — Episode 17
“Thank you, Poznan.”
The first smile I showed Poznan was somewhat calculated, but this gratitude was genuine. She responded with her usual composure, not a trace of warmth in her expression.
“Think nothing of it.”
If anything, her steadiness only convinced me further that she was someone worth keeping close. No matter what she faced, I sensed she would maintain that composure.
She was far preferable to those who played kind and affectionate in ordinary moments, then struck you from behind without warning.
“Then, before we begin the banquet preparations in earnest, might I ask you a few questions, Your Highness?”
And so I decided to seek Poznan’s assistance. After she had prepared me meticulously as always, she withdrew a small writing implement from her pocket and began to record certain details.
“Is there anything you particularly wish to emphasize at the banquet?”
“I’d say the most important thing is to show that I’m adapting well here.”
“I understand, Your Highness. In that case…….”

* * *
The dining hall of the Prince’s Palace remained splendid and dazzling, though I was gradually growing accustomed to its golden radiance during my stay here. It was the sort of afternoon when gentle sunlight streamed through the wide windows.
“Your Highness, I trust you are enjoying a pleasant lunch.”
“Ah, you’ve come. Sit.”
Unlike at the formal banquet, Henrik seated across from me was focused entirely on his meal after that brief greeting. It seemed he had urgent matters on his mind.
Since we often dined together or retired for the night without any particularly personal conversation, there was nothing awkward about the silence.
I, too, ate quietly and pondered the various details Poznan had taught me. She had instructed me on the manners expected of a banquet host, as well as matters that a woman of Bwendofska ought to understand in society.
Given that an embassy would be arriving, there would be far more to consider than just the banquet itself. We would likely share meals together quite often—but how should I manage that?
“Your Highness, I respectfully recommend beginning with the soup.”
The palace’s head chef, standing quietly in the background, courteously suggested the course. I took a spoonful of the Carp Soup, which warmed my insides, and fell into thought.
In such crisp weather, one’s thoughts naturally turned to hot food. Would the emissaries arriving from Francia find the Carp Soup refreshing? Or would they prefer the Fish Jelly served as a delicacy?
Bwendofska, being close to the sea, had developed seafood cuisine to a remarkable degree. Yet entirely unfamiliar dishes could provoke hesitation rather than appetite.
While fine taste mattered, I hoped the banquet would be both visually delightful and abundant.
“Your Highness, does the Steak suit your palate?”
“Kobel, it’s fine. Don’t fret.”
Only then did I turn to look at the chef. I was seeing him for the first time. For a chef to continue speaking about the food while his master and mistress dined—Henrik must be quite lenient with his servants.
I, too, gave a ready nod to Kobel to signal that the food was delicious, following Henrik’s lead.
And it was no mere courtesy—the Steak here was genuinely excellent. The juices were superb, and dipping it in the accompanying Salt was a revelation unto itself. Salty, rich, it brought out the meat’s flavor without overwhelming it.
As for myself, I had never experienced meat prepared this way with Salt in the Francia Kingdom. And if a princess and duchess such as I had not encountered it, surely the Francia embassy arriving here would not have either.
What if I made this Salt a signature element? I chewed slowly on the meat, then turned to Henrik with a question.
“Your Highness, what gifts did you present?”
Henrik answered my direct question without hesitation.
“Gold and silver.”
In that moment, I finally understood precisely why the king I despised to call father had abandoned his plan to sell me to some old nobleman without so much as a murmur. Henrik had secured me through the sheer force of wealth.
Even that baron—was it Seaton?—had his riches, but no mere nobleman could rival the prosperity of the prince here.
Though I had not been here long, I already knew how wealthy the Bwendofska royal house was, and how much they enjoyed displaying it.
“The cuisine here is truly excellent.”
“So it is said, though I had not thought to make much use of that fact.”
Given the considerable distance between Francia and Bwendofska, it would be impractical to transport fresh provisions as gifts. Perishables would have been out of the question entirely.
Henrik had already settled on marriage as the purpose of his journey to the Francia Kingdom, and he would have amassed valuable gifts accordingly.
Yet the culinary culture here possessed a charm capable of captivating foreign eyes and palates.
Display need not be confined to gold or glittering jewels. This Salt would astonish the Francia delegation. I myself was astonished by it.
What if I adorned the banquet tables with this beautiful Salt, arranging it like gleaming jewels as a symbol of wealth, and serving it alongside distinctive dishes? It seemed promising.
“I should like the Salt to be served alongside the dishes whenever we dine with the embassy.”
“Is that what you were thinking?”
“Yes. Let us offer them something they have never experienced. You yourself enjoyed the banquets in Francia, did you not?”
“They were splendid and lavish enough.”
Henrik made no particular objection. He had likely spent that time selecting the woman he would marry. Outwardly, that was his purpose; beneath the surface, he was surely assessing threats. Potential rivals to be wary of.
Such as Antonio, that general who had made a name for himself in the southern war. Or perhaps scrutinizing the true intentions of the Francia King, who had spoken of pursuing peace between the kingdoms.
“Is there anything that stands out in your memory?”
“I went through much the same myself.”
Henrik shrugged his shoulders with his usual detachment. Pleased at how I was steering the conversation where I wished, I allowed myself a light smile.
“Your Highness, such brilliance and splendor exist in both our kingdoms. It is better to show them what is rare.”
“But it is common fare here.”
“All the more reason, then.”
Henrik, who had finished his meal by then, rested his chin on his hand, his eyes growing drowsy.
“Do as you see fit. I look forward to it.”
That evening, consulting the list of prominent Bwendofska nobles that Poznan had provided, I pondered whom to invite to the banquet.
I lost track of time, didn’t notice the exhaustion. I was a little giddy, finally having some sense of direction for the banquet I had to host and oversee.
If only I could read the future before that banquet, things might have gone more smoothly.
At the banquet celebrating my marriage to Henrik, I’d run into a small mishap and let myself respond too emotionally.
If I could host a grand banquet this time and avoid making such mistakes with my guests, it would only help my reputation all the more.
Following the light cast by small candles, I walked carefully toward the bed, and found Henrik already asleep.
It was clear he was busier than I was, and he rose earlier than I did. So seeing him like this, asleep, was a rarity.
Tonight it seemed he’d pushed himself, working through the night. Before sleep claimed him, he’d wanted to finish just one more thing.
I rose onto my toes and slipped into the bathroom. The room was, of course, perfectly quiet. I drew the Mirror from my pocket and began to trace the future I desired.
I want to establish myself firmly here. Come now, Mirror. Will there be anything I need to watch out for when I meet the delegation from Francia?
Just as I was about to cast the Magic as usual—
“Cough, cough!”
Before the Mirror could even gleam with its green light, my chest tightened and seized, and a dry cough tore from my throat.
Panic flooded through me, and all I could do was blink.
Not hemoptysis again, surely?
Hemoptysis itself was manageable, but the thought of coughing up blood and then having to clean up afterward was hardly welcome. And it made me think of that cursed Antonio, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave.

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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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