The Contract Marriage for Attilenta's Revenge - Chapter 19

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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 Contract Marriage Episode 19
In the Kingdom of Francia, there was no custom of a wife sitting beside her husband as an equal. Even among the married, it was customary for the man to take the place of honor. Henrik must have known this fact, having enjoyed many banquets in Francia.
Even if he hadn’t known, it would have mattered little. He was fulfilling our agreement faithfully. Come to think of it, Henrik had done the same when I attended my first banquet here after arriving.
My standing in this place could only rise higher if Henrik supported me. And such support would serve him well in return.
“Then, do enjoy the cuisine of Bwendofska.”
The dining table of the finest hardwood gleamed like jewels beneath the chandelier. The items I had prepared also displayed their full magnificence upon the table.
The Francia Delegation seemed not yet to grasp what exactly those things were. They asked nothing about them.
They appeared utterly absorbed by the already dazzling dinnerware and the warm, savory, yet peculiar dishes before them.
“Should you need it, use this.”
It was around the time the steaks arrived, after warming ourselves first with a richly aromatic seafood stew.
I deliberately reached out so that Saetern’s son and Hersson could see clearly. Soon, I gestured naturally toward the pure salt crystals, which gleamed in a thousand prismatic colors.
“It is a precious thing—in fact, the first time I saw it was here.”
It shone with a brilliance that rivaled even the gold chandelier and silver dinnerware. Of course, it was hardly conceivable that they were seeing salt for the first time here.
But if one were to emphasize something special in this way from a “foreign” source, even the most ordinary object from daily life could appear far more special—and, done well, even superior.
The people here love to display what they possess. So Henrik too deliberately fixed his gaze upon the pink and crimson salt crystals arrayed on the table like gems or glass sculptures.
“My wife is fond of it, so I had plenty brought. I should like to recommend it to you all as well.”
Henrik appeared to be a wealthy yet doting prince. With the prince and princess both speaking thus, the Francia Delegation naturally turned their attention to the glittering salt crystals.
“How lovely… How like jewels indeed, Your Highness.”
It was Saetern who spoke first. His tone held a note of hesitation. He was likely thinking: why this sudden display of jewels during a meal?
Hersson too, who maintained close relations with Selena, offered up praise at once—empty flattery, obvious to anyone.
“The color is indeed unusual, but might we examine it more closely after the meal concludes?”
“Ah, does it appear so to you as well?”
I laughed aloud. Then, slowly, I demonstrated by dipping the meat from my plate into the finely crushed salt.
“Not jewels, but salt.”
“Ah…”
A murmur—or perhaps a sigh—rippled through the Francia Delegation.
“I confess, I mistook the brilliance for actual gems, Your Highness.”
“Well, that’s understandable. It is rather remarkable, isn’t it? And it brings out the flavor of the steak wonderfully.”
I ate my steak with leisure, sipping wine as though I were truly a person who savored fine dining.
My purpose was singular: to display my happiness to the members of the Francia Delegation.
“The food here is truly fresh to me. It differs greatly from that of Francia.”
“The spices too—many I have never encountered before.”
“I felt the same way at first. Come now, sirs. Try this as well.”
The dining table was furnished not only with salt arranged like jewels, but with many other ornaments that shone with genuine brilliance.
And this was not even a banquet attended by the King himself. I was conducting the meal with the air of one well adapted to this wealthy and luxurious place.
I was confident of this for two reasons. First, Henrik ate with his usual unruffled composure.
His hands moved gracefully as he raised his glass at a measured pace, and he merely nodded occasionally, speaking little.
In other words, it was a sign that he was sufficiently satisfied with how the evening was proceeding.
Second, examining the expressions of the Francia Delegation closely, I saw they had already begun to enjoy the unfamiliar cuisine.
Beginning with the apple pie, the Royal Palace’s head chef’s pride, elaborately decorated cakes were brought out on fine serving trays.
Whatever their thoughts, they laughed and smiled, and the banquet rushed onward toward a successful conclusion.
Hersson gave a deliberate, forced cough.
“It has truly been an excellent meal, Your Highness, Your Princess. Yet there is one matter that gives me pause, and if I may be so bold, I should like to inquire of it.”
As I looked toward Hersson, Henrik permitted it with his characteristic cold voice, yet in a generous manner.
“Speak freely. Please.”
I too, looking at him, recalled one possibility. Given the foreign cuisine and the salt displayed like jewels—unusual things that could not be faulted—the only matter left for Hersson to raise was now quite obvious.
“The matter is simply this: since you both, Your Highness and Your Princess, have been seated beside each other from the very beginning of your reception of us, it is a sight I have found most pleasing.”
I studied Hersson intently as he spoke with measured composure. To all appearances, he had the neat features befitting a delegation’s representative, and particularly because he was Selena’s cousin, his chestnut hair caught the eye—so similar to hers.
Or perhaps, I realized, it was simply my eye that lingered unnaturally on hair of that particular shade.
“Then what is it that puzzles you?”
Though we were of different genders and appearances, I donned a gentle mask as though addressing Selena herself, and asked the question.
Inwardly, rather than truly heeding his words, I had already guessed what he would say and was calculating how I would respond.
“It is that Your Highness is, in truth, a most magnanimous person. Should there be any way in which he differs from rumor, I should wish, as your delegation’s representative, to convey that to the Kingdom of Francia.”
Instead of the scoff that threatened to escape, I produced a gracious smile. And as I wore that false smile so deliberately, it felt precisely as it had the last time I faced Selena in Francia.
Selena. She must have wished so greatly to keep me beneath her watchful eye forever, to control me—but things had not gone as she desired. How deeply it must have disappointed her.
Hersson, for all his credentials as a royal secretary, lacked the seasoning to truly warrant his role as delegation representative.
What desperation must have driven Selena to dispatch even such a cousin here to verify me? And how had Antonio managed to assist in such an affair?
“Regarding the two of you, who appear to be in such harmony, and indeed for the sake of the goodwill between our two nations, I believe we must be careful lest any unfortunate misunderstanding arise.”
On the surface, he heaped praise and admiration upon us both, prioritizing the peace accord between the two nations achieved through marriage. But beneath, his intent was wholly different.
He was challenging my origins first of all. His question amounted to this: “That a husband and wife sit side by side is something so foreign to the customs of Francia that isn’t the princess from that kingdom perhaps demanding her rights excessively?”
Moreover, she questioned Henrik about his standing—”What was the meaning of the reputation that followed him, the Black Dragon of the Battlefield, all the way to the heart of this realm?”—while simultaneously hinting at doubt, as if wondering whether it might have been nothing more than posturing or exaggeration for effect.
Indeed, Hersson was clever enough to make his point not just to me, but to Henrik as well. It was plain to see what troubled him: why would a man like Henrik, who lacked nothing in anyone’s eyes, deign to elevate the standing of a woman like me?
Even without Hersson being Selena’s cousin, every soul in Francia who had despised me would think precisely the same.
Hersson, true to his Francian nobility, wielded a graceful tongue that could mock impropriety with perfect courtesy, and it was my turn to match his words with something equally sharp.
“Oh, my.”
I deliberately turned my gaze toward Henrik, who sat in patient silence like a prince of generous temperament, and let out a soft, measured laugh.
Then I tilted my head toward his shoulder beside me. I would not appear as fragile and timid as Selena, who had worked so hard to send Hersson here, but it would be enough to seem like an intimate, devoted wife.
“Hersson, my friend. So you were harboring such concerns. What a loyal subject you are—His Majesty must be overjoyed.”

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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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