Chapter 11: Journey Through the Middle Ages, Part 1

On this cold winter morning, Louisa woke up early. It was not a deliberate choice, but rather a natural occurrence. After all, entertainment in this era was scarce; even for the nobility, life consisted of little more than hosting the occasional evening banquet—just a slight step up from the commoners who rose and slept with the sun. Under such conditions, it would be difficult for anyone’s daily routine to be anything but healthy.

As for Louisa, she could have passed the time reading books from her "personal space"—both she and her aunt had kept a collection of "books" at home. However, considering the lighting conditions of the era and the inconvenience of being nearsighted, she decided against it. While "spectacles" did technically exist in the Middle Ages, they were quite crude, and they did not look particularly comfortable to wear.

After getting dressed, Louisa began her morning wash, attended by a maid who brought in hot water and other necessities provided by the servants. She felt a flicker of gratitude for being a noble in this life; otherwise, the simple act of washing up in the morning would have been a cumbersome, if not impossible, chore. She took the "toothbrush" the maid handed her—an implement she had commissioned from a local craftsman.

While artificial toothbrushes had existed in China as early as the Song and Yuan dynasties, they were unknown in the medieval West. Yet, civilizations often follow convergent paths; even in primitive tribes, one could occasionally find "chewing sticks"—fibrous twigs frayed at the ends, similar to the "morning tooth-wood" used in ancient China. Consequently, some people in the Middle Ages with basic dental hygiene knowledge would brush their teeth, sometimes wrapping a small stick in cloth or using a chewing stick. Of course, the most common method was the toothpick, used to remove debris. While commoners used thorn-based picks, the nobility preferred refined versions made of brass or silver.

Louisa’s commissioned toothbrush had an ivory handle and horsehair bristles. While "novel," it was not scandalous; at most, people simply thought of her as someone who was exceptionally particular. However, she rarely actually used the brush she had commissioned. Before each use, she would have it scalded with hot water, but whenever she was unobserved, she would smuggle out a modern toothbrush from her personal space’s supermarket. Beyond the superior cleaning performance and comfort, the more critical factor was that nylon bristles did not harbor bacteria or fungi like animal hair, which could lead to oral infections.

Louisa knew the current toothbrush was ineffective, but she had it made to pave the way for her to use her modern one openly. Once everyone was accustomed to her using a toothbrush, the later introduction of a modern one would simply be seen as a luxury item made of exquisite materials, raising no suspicion. Furthermore, it served to promote dental hygiene, slowly introducing the concept to those around her.

Since she was being watched this morning, she didn't bring out her modern brush. The toothpaste she used was also homemade—a mixture of charcoal powder and peppermint essential oil (not pure oil, but a compound diluted with olive oil). Charcoal served as an abrasive, and the peppermint freshened breath; both possessed antibacterial properties. Having seen charcoal used as emergency toothpaste on wilderness survival shows, she felt this simple concoction was acceptable for occasional use. As for the urine that served as the primary ingredient in the era’s toothpastes and mouthwashes—while she rationally understood that the ammonia was effective and theoretically sterile if uncontaminated, she simply could not bring herself to use it.

After finishing, Louisa clicked her tongue against her teeth, finding them smooth and clean. She was quite diligent about maintaining a straight, white smile for the rest of her life. This was not vanity, but a matter of health; after all, one needed good teeth to enjoy life. She had no desire to lose her appetite or suffer from toothaches as she aged.

Furthermore, she had been tracking her growth, noting that the last of her baby teeth would fall out between the ages of twelve and fourteen. Currently, only her second molars remained to be replaced. Her dentition was essentially set, and once these permanent teeth were worn down or succumbed to decay, there would be no replacements. She certainly had no desire to experience the dental extraction or filling techniques of the local barber-surgeons.

Because she couldn't use her modern toothpaste that morning, she rinsed her mouth thoroughly with mouthwash. Rinsing was a popular method of dental care then and would remain so for centuries. Toothbrush bristles were often too hard and damaged the gums, or too soft to clean effectively, and toothpicks frequently caused injury. Rinsing, however, was simple and safe. Louisa, naturally, avoided the local mouthwash recipes, which were often urine-based or contained ingredients she found highly suspicious. She preferred to smuggle her own in from her personal space. It was easy to hide; the servants merely thought her extravagant for using such a fragrant, high-quality rinse. In this era, anything that smelled pleasant was expensive, but then again, weren't the high nobility supposed to be extravagant?

Her supermarket back home had been located in an urban village, and few people there had actually made a habit of using mouthwash. However, the pandemic had turned cleaning and disinfectant products into household staples, and mouthwash had ridden that wave onto the shelves. The bottle she was currently using was apple-flavored—her favorite.

"Where is our procurement bill?" Louisa asked Alan, the knight in charge of purchasing sugar beets, while finishing her breakfast.

Upon returning to Brudo, Louisa had immediately arranged for Jeanne, who had come with her from the convent, to work in the castle’s main kitchen so she could have meals prepared to her own taste. She simply couldn't get used to medieval cuisine. Furthermore, because noblewomen generally skipped breakfast to appear pious, the castle kitchen didn't prepare it for them. Jeanne prepared Louisa’s meals—today, it was milk, fried eggs, and sausage. It was simple, but perfectly suited to her modern palate.

Alan had become a page at the Brudo court after his seventh-year naming day. While running errands for the ladies, he had learned to read and write and received basic military training. At fourteen, he naturally became a squire, assisting a knight while learning the seven knightly virtues: riding, swimming, javelin throwing, fencing, hunting, chess, and poetry. The Count took a keen interest in every knight who rose through the ranks of the Brudo court, as they were the core of his power. He had long noticed Alan, who, like his father, possessed an exceptional talent for accounting.

This era was the mid-to-late Middle Ages; while the military nobility remained violent, they were beginning to value refinement. Ruling land no longer relied solely on force; administrative literacy was increasingly prized. Beyond recruiting from the clergy, it was not uncommon for knights to take on civil roles. They had not yet reached the stage, centuries later, where the nobility would be defined by elegance and frailty.

In other noble courts, it was unclear if a knight like Alan would be valued for his bookkeeping, but in Brudo, he was highly sought after. Due to long-standing mercantilism and the prosperity of the Brudo markets, the demand for accounting talent was constant. Rather than hiring "outsiders," it was far more reassuring to rely on "one of their own" like Sir Alan. If his father hadn't been skilled in this craft, he never would have secured the lucrative position of "Market Clerk," nor would he have had the influence to send his second son to the Count's court—a high threshold, even for the lower nobility.

Alan handed the sugar beet procurement bill to Louisa. The accounts were straightforward, and having learned some mental arithmetic in her previous life, Louisa verified the figures at a glance. She nodded after reviewing them. "This looks acceptable. The suitable sugar beets around Troyes have been collected. Hmm... let me think, how much sugar has the refinery accumulated?"

Although Louisa reviewed the accounts quickly, Alan did not mistake it for carelessness. He had already witnessed her computational skills during their recent work together, which was truly startling. Knowledge was not exactly worshipped by the nobility of this time, and many men with far more educational resources were often illiterate—let alone noblewomen. Her upbringing in a convent only deepened his confusion: had the convents started teaching things beyond chanting?

Louisa, unaware of his thoughts, calculated the sugar yield based on the beets acquired and the sugar produced. The result was a dismal 2%. While current refining technology certainly left room for improvement, and the wild sugar beets brought from Fontevraud might help, she knew there was a hard limit to how much she could improve the yield in the short term.