The Contract Marriage for Attilenta's Revenge - Chapter 18

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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 Marriage Contract — Episode 018
Moreover, at this very moment, I could scarcely afford to withhold the information gleaned from the spies—I needed to give it to Henrik. An important banquet loomed ahead, and his help would be indispensable.
“Sigh… This is difficult.”
Cold sweat had begun to trickle down my forehead without my noticing. I quickly wiped it away and released a long breath.
“…Perhaps I should visit the Temple of the Dragon next time.”
Simply because I’d read a few books in this library, I couldn’t possibly come to sense the presence of dragons—nor suddenly wield that magic. It wouldn’t work like that.
Unless I possessed extraordinary talent as a mage, nothing would unfold so easily.
Henrik had said he would offer further explanation if I wished it… but honestly, these days I saw him only at meals and just before sleep.
If I were to make such a request of someone so preoccupied, I would have to pay the price accordingly. Yet lately, merely casting a spell left me dry-coughing—my condition was far from sound.
It seemed more beneficial to directly experience the presence of the legendary entity, the Black Dragon Bwendia.
“Sigh… Once this is finished.”
I exhaled a long breath to soothe my restless mind, murmuring to myself.
“Right then, I should ask Poznan about the temple. Let me handle this matter well.”

* * *
It was the day the delegation arrived. Bathed in a crisp wind, I stood before the Prince’s Palace alongside Henrik. I swept my gaze across the surroundings one final time, checking every detail.
“What a beautiful place this is.”
Mindful of those who would be watching our relationship, I offered him an ordinary remark. Though not insincere, at least.
The garden before the Prince’s Palace was an expansive vista, open to the sky. Elegant black fortress walls, autumn foliage blooming in vivid hues, brilliant and multicolored flowers, the sound of a stream flowing from somewhere unseen—it was a scene where grand architecture and pristine nature harmonized beautifully.
There, lined up in orderly dress, stood the Royal Orchestra, servants and handmaidens of the Prince’s Palace.
Every one of them flawless, all fully prepared to welcome the delegation arriving from the kingdom of Francia.
“You think so as well, then.”
A glance to my side revealed Henrik’s expression likewise unmarred—perfectly composed. Clearly, he too found no fault in this reception that might sully his honor.
“I’m certain the delegation will think the same, Your Highness.”
Now that I thought back, I had felt this same impression when I first arrived. Brilliant, magnificent, elegant. At that time, preoccupied with the thought of proposing something new to Henrik, I hadn’t properly taken in my surroundings.
Then a trumpet blast sounded—a sharp, ear-ringing cry.
“The delegation from the kingdom of Francia has arrived!”
People descended from several carriages adorned with elegant floral motifs depicting the goddess Pria, the chief deity of Francia.
I narrowed my eyes, studying them. A thin, false smile played at the corner of my lips.
“Welcome to Bwendofska.”
I recognized their faces. What caught my eye especially was the son of Baron Saten’s house, who was said to be in contact with Antonio, and Hersson—Selena’s cousin, who served as a clerk in the royal court.
From that composition alone, I could readily discern the king’s true intention in assembling this delegation. He meant to watch whether I was doing anything foolish, to confirm the political and diplomatic developments of this kingdom.
“Your Highness, Your Majesty. I offer my greetings. I am Hersson, representative of the Francia delegation.”
The ostensible purpose of the delegation was noble: to inquire after the youngest princess of Francia who had married the prince of Bwendofska, to raise the banner of peace, and to strengthen the bonds between the two nations so they might cooperate in the future.
Internally, I scoffed. Even if the king of Francia had willingly surrendered me to Henrik, it would hardly end there.
That greedy man, sequestered in his own palace pursuing “peace”—surely that wasn’t his true heart. The war he waged in the south was merely the beginning of his ambitions.
“It must have been a long journey. I trust you haven’t grown weary?”
Henrik stepped forward first, showing concern for the guests as though they were his responsibility. I checked once more that my dress hadn’t become wrinkled and walked toward the delegation.
With Poznan’s assistance, the key feature of this outfit was to emphasize a bright, lively image through generous, flowing folds.
Adorned as I was with large lace, a golden belt, and lavish, costly jewelry, I would certainly appear to these Francia people as “a princess thriving in a foreign land.”
“My eyes have been dazzled by the exotic landscape; I scarcely felt the fatigue of travel, Your Highness.”
“I am grateful for such a grand welcome. May the goddess Pria bless us.”
“I shall pray for the dragon’s protection upon you all.”
“We are grateful, Your Majesty. We too shall offer our sincere prayers.”
From the son of Baron Saten to Hersson, and all those who accompanied them, they freely spoke the tongue of Bwendofska and invoked divine blessing.
I found myself thinking: how presumptuous they seemed, feigning such courtesy.
The foundation of this nation’s legend lay not in a god, but in the dragon. Their refinement was admirable, but had they truly respected Henrik, they would have offered their prayers in Bwendofska’s way.
Henrik, thinking much as I did, graciously blessed them with the dragon’s protection.
I too followed Henrik’s lead, invoking the Black Dragon Bwendia—much like a princess already well-adapted to this place.
“May Bwendia bless you. It’s been some time; it’s good to see you. Lord Hersson, Lord Saten.”
“It truly has been ages. We have been greatly anticipating the banquet you are hosting, Your Majesty.”
“You shall find it satisfactory. Come then, let us proceed to the banquet hall.”
Henrik stepped forward and led them toward the banquet hall prepared within the Prince’s Palace. Though the surroundings were tranquil and beautiful, an atmosphere of silence hung between us. Within it, stilted pleasantries were exchanged.
“Ah, the climate here does differ from Francia. It has a damp quality, you see. Heh heh. Your Majesty, I do hope the meals have suited your palate?”
On the surface, it seemed like an old acquaintance simply exchanging pleasantries, but it was obvious he was pointing out my gaunt appearance.
Simultaneously laying down the insinuation: was I perhaps an inadequate princess, not yet accustomed to this place?
I kept my expression unmoved. Such dissembling was not difficult for me.
What had been tormenting me in this place was not climate or food at all.
“This place is simply that way. Everything else is fine, and… well, the prince won’t leave me alone.”
Deliberately, I smiled shyly, as though I were a new bride intoxicated by Henrik’s affection.
“Well, that’s a relief. Your Highness. The King himself has been concerned about your welfare. I shall convey his regards faithfully.”
Young Lord Saten offered a faint smile in return, but I knew it was false. After all, his father was none other than Baron Saten.
He had nearly married me—a woman branded with the label of divorcée. Whatever arrangement had passed between Antonio, Baron Saten, and the King of Francia, the fact remained that my wishes had been disregarded.
I had never exchanged much with Lord Saten, yet I was certain of one thing: that son of Saten’s despised me in his heart, just as that governess once had, the one who had shamed me.
“If you’re willing to do that, then I’m at ease. Come, settle in and sit. I do hope you’ll enjoy this banquet.”
“To arrange such a lavish table at this early hour—it’s truly remarkable. Your Highness.”
I merely smiled again at the delegation’s contrived compliment. As he said, in Francia such important banquets were ordinarily held in the evening, enjoyed as supper. So the early luncheon hour was indeed unusual.
Various dishes prepared in the Bwendofska style released their savory and fragrant aromas. The chandeliers illuminating this vast table were all pure gold.
“I hope the fare suits your palates.”
Henrik nodded to signal them to begin eating, then took his seat beside me.
In that moment, I noticed the light flicker in the eyes of Lord Saten, seated across from me, and in those of the other Francian guests as well.

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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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