The Contract Marriage for Attilenta's Revenge - Chapter 43

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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 Contractual Marriage — Chapter 43
I nodded in understanding, as it made sense. Assigning such a high-ranking knight so visibly would make the prince appear to cherish his wife genuinely in the eyes of others.
Even within the ordinarily quiet castle walls, so many people moved about that it would prove quite effective.
“I’m reassured to have you accompanying me. I must remember to thank His Highness for his consideration.”
“Wherever you go, Your Highness need not concern yourself with my presence. Shall we depart?”
With the metallic clatter of armor, Krakup stepped forward. I glanced sideways at the quiet Poznan.
The siblings hadn’t even exchanged greetings.
Brother and sister shared the same subtly reddened black hair and unwavering gray eyes—so alike they could have been cast from the same mold.
Yet despite their striking resemblance, why did they seem so distant from each other?
“Your Highness, we’ve arrived at the Library.”
The surrounding landscape, as always, was beautiful, though it scarcely registered with me. As the attendants opened the Library doors before us, I spoke tersely.
“I’ll go in alone this time as well.”
“No, Your Majesty gave us explicit orders. We simply follow his command.”
Krakup stood firm as an unyielding wall, his tone uncompromising.
“……Very well. It may take me some time to select books.”
“Please, Your Highness, do not concern yourself with us. Browse at your leisure.”
At Poznan’s words, Krakup nodded in agreement. As I entered my favorite place in this castle, I drew in a long breath, as though standing on a quiet forest path.
I hadn’t asked the librarians directly, but books on Heterodox Magic surely didn’t exist here. How could the royal family deal with heresy openly?
I wandered as though taking a stroll, seeking out books that dealt primarily with Divine Magic and Dragon Magic.
In Henrik’s palace, where I ordinarily resided, I had read various literary and artistic works for the sake of refinement. Now, however, this was time to search for what I personally needed most.
Still, there was no need to appear hurried. I had two watchers, after all.
I browsed the shelves at leisure, while the siblings patrolled the library interior like sentries.
Then one book suddenly caught my eye. The moment I saw the title written simply as “Fundamentals of Magic,” I opened it to the first page and skimmed the table of contents.
The book Henrik had recommended last time, when we met in the library, dealt with dragon mythology and history. This one was of a different sort.
“There exists a Magical Hierarchy……”
I murmured the words written in the book’s introduction, then sighed and stroked my chin. It didn’t satisfy me emotionally, but a certain situation came to mind.
Was this the reason why, in Francia, they had made such a fuss about my mother being at odds with Divine Magic, calling it an inferior heresy?
Of course, this information didn’t differ greatly from what my mother had explained to me even as she labored to breathe through her illness.
As I read through several examples cited in the book, my eyes narrowed.
……If the reason my magic had failed to manifest properly of late was that it had been blocked by a higher grade of magic than what I wielded……
“……Then, could it be countered?”
Speaking barely above a whisper so no one else could hear, I opened the book wide as though I’d discovered some hope, and began reading with fervent attention.
The book was visibly old and worn, so its information might be unreliable. But I felt I should also consider positive possibilities.

* * *
The day to depart for Francia arrived. I had awakened very early in the morning and had been meditating alone in my chamber to calm my mind.
“Atilenta, you’ve risen remarkably early.”
Just as the sun was about to break, Henrik returned to the chamber, having seen to something outside, and gave me a meaningful look. Inwardly, I thought that he was hardly one to say such a thing, yet outwardly I answered calmly.
“It is the day of a long journey.”
Concerned that something might go wrong at this event, I had found certain passages from yesterday’s reading that troubled me.
So I wanted to arrive in Francia with a calm mind and spirit, to verify things with my own eyes.
Only after everything became clear would I report to Henrik.
Poznan dressed me with swift efficiency. Adorned in Bwendofska’s traditional dress and elaborate golden jewelry, I climbed into the carriage with Henrik. He had seemingly prepared a great many gifts, as the event ostensibly invited guests from allied nations to seek the blessing of the Goddess Pria. There were multiple supply wagons alone, not to mention the knights he always traveled with.
The knights who always accompanied him were there as well.
“You shall shine brightest in the banquet hall,” Henrik remarked, his tone ambiguous between compliment and jest, once we were alone in the carriage. I accepted it graciously.
“It is thanks to the lady’s maid Your Highness appointed for me. I am certain I shall not lack in being worthy to stand beside His Highness, who grows ever more resplendent. Fortunately so.”
“Have you truly thought so all this while?”
When Henrik asked this with a leisurely drawl, crossing his legs, I simply offered a faint smile.
“How could I dare speak anything but truth? You have always heard the praise of the multitude, and I fear my words would only seem worn and trite.”
“That is not so. Let me receive your words gladly, for an important event lies ahead.”
Henrik let escape a thin laugh. As always, he seemed to read what lay beneath my words. I had, after all, openly told him before that I disliked both my homeland and my former husband, Antonio.
At this event, I intended to play the role of being even more intimate with Henrik than before. Judging by his response, it seemed he would match the rhythm perfectly, as he always did.
However ornately a royal carriage was decorated, a carriage remained a carriage. Henrik, reclining against its cushioned yet uncomfortable sofa, observed me with the same subtle gaze as when we had first ridden together.
At such times, it was difficult for me to brazenly meet his gaze, so I naturally averted my eyes, fidgeting with my lace-covered hands.
As he occasionally gazed out the window, he posed such a question.
“Are you not uncomfortable?”
Beneath hair that gleamed with an icy brilliance, his keen eyes shone only with coldness.
He was human, after all; at times, various emotions flickered within those eyes. Like now, when he seemed to concern himself over me as though I were still unwell.
To be truthful, I found it curious each time I saw him that way. We were alone now; there was no need for him to concern himself with me, as his reputation would suffer no harm.

“Thanks to Your Majesty’s devoted care, I’ve made a complete recovery. I’m sure your duties keep you more than occupied—please, don’t concern yourself with me.”
He lifted his shoulders lightly, as though it went without saying that looking after his wife was only natural.
“Then is there anything in particular you’re looking forward to at this banquet?”
His question struck me as oddly frivolous. Whether he was simply restless from the long journey after so much time away, or—though he could hardly be bored—whether he meant to test me in some new way, I couldn’t say.
“You were preparing remarkably early this morning.”
I didn’t fully understand, but I answered with the same measured composure as before.
“Nothing in particular. I simply did my best to ensure I wouldn’t be a burden to Your Majesty.”
Henrik wore that quiet smile again. There seemed no reason for me to shatter such tranquility.
Apart from that unremarkable conversation, the journey had been nothing but the rumble of the carriage beneath us.
As before, I found the traveling no hardship. I merely occupied my thoughts with the people I would soon meet.
“Your Majesty Henrik, Your Highness. We have arrived at Francia Royal Castle.”
At the knight’s call from outside, Henrik immediately opened the door and stepped out. He offered me his hand with the practiced ease of a seasoned husband.
I took his warm hand without hesitation, playing the devoted wife, and looked about me.
The flowers blooming in the castle gardens were so brilliant they dazzled the eye. Even in winter, that garden rivaled any in its color and fragrance.
The banquet hall itself was equally lavish, though no less chaotic.
As Henrik had mentioned before, it resembled the royal banquets of Bwendofska, yet held one curious distinction. In honor of the Goddess Pria, the air was heavy with floral perfume throughout.
“Prince Henrik of Francia and Her Highness the Princess make their entrance!”
We proceeded through applause both measured and enthusiastic, accompanied by the strains of music, and made our way first to the King to offer our respects.
“Atilenta, my daughter. Seeing your face erases all the worry I’ve carried these past months.”
I watched the King’s green eyes crease with affection, and summoned a smile as genuine as any I might have rehearsed—one no one could find fault with.
“It’s only because Father has cared for me so deeply that I’ve been well. I’ve always hoped for your own peace and contentment.”
The words of Francia flowed from my tongue with surprising ease, as though I had never left.
“How good to see you again. Time passes so swiftly, does it not. May the blessing of Brendia ever rest upon the King of Francia.”
Henrik’s bow was graceful, and he concluded with a blessing invoking Dragon magic. I deliberately echoed his words as well.
So that all those here—not only the King, but those who pretended inattention while watching intently—would hear.

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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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