2 Crossing into the Middle Ages 002

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The alternate medieval kingdom that Louisa had transmigrated to was called Vason, a major power among the surrounding states, clearly a playful nod to the medieval kingdom of France in reality. Fortunately, in this life, her father, Count Brudo, was one of the most prominent nobles in the kingdom, so her life was relatively privileged compared to others of her time. At least she didn’t have to worry about whether there would be a next life after gambling everything away.

Count Brudo’s domain lay in the eastern part of the Vason Kingdom, its heartland a fertile plain, with Troyes as the ruling center. After leaving the convent, Louisa arrived here under the escort of Father Mario and a squad of knights. A day before their arrival at the Troyes castle, knights dispatched by the count were already waiting by the main road, greeting them before returning to report back to the castle.

Therefore, when Louisa reached Troyes castle, people inside were already waiting for her.

Early in the morning, in an exquisitely furnished chamber on the upper floor of the southwest turret of the castle, the Countess Brudo sat by the window on the west side, gazing through the leaded glass at the bustling courtyard outside. She complained about her only daughter, “Look, everyone in this castle is already eager to curry favor with that little nun from Fontro!”

“They obviously think that a young girl who has never received any noble education can also govern Brudo, just because she is the eldest daughter.” The countess turned her head toward her daughter. “And you, my child, just because you are two years younger than her, this vast land and wealth of Brudo mean nothing to you.”

Eva Balzac, daughter of the count and his second wife, sat expressionless. Though only ten years old, she fully understood her mother’s meaning. In this era, noblewomen were commonly betrothed before age ten and married before fourteen, so she knew everything.

Simply put, Eva used to have several suitors—great lords who sent emissaries to Troyes to ask for her hand for their sons. But after the news spread that Count Brudo intended to bring his eldest daughter out of the convent, the emissaries did not leave, but the intended bride they sought had changed to Louisa Balzac, the sister they had never met.

“Men always want to marry a woman with land...” the countess continued angrily. “You could have been a queen once, but now that’s nearly impossible.”

Count Brudo was famously wealthy, but if Eva was not the future countess, she was no different in essence from ordinary noble girls.

The countess kept complaining, but soon a messenger arrived with news from the count. He had gone down to the great hall on the west side of the castle to prepare to receive his heir. After so many years, their first meeting would be formal. On such occasions, the family had to be properly assembled, even though the countess did not want to see Louisa at Troyes castle.

Count Brudo understood his wife’s feelings but did not care. Like most men of his time, he believed that “only a foolish husband lets his wife influence him.” In fact, the more displeased the countess was, the more he needed her to show kindness to his stepdaughter, because she was the heir.

The countess and Eva descended the wooden stairs to the castle courtyard, then passed through corridor-like walkways and several doorways to reach the great hall. Count Brudo was already waiting—a man over fifty, his skin rough but his beard neatly trimmed, clearly once a handsome man.

Only three or four years ago, he had still fought on the battlefield. But aging seemed sudden, as if overnight, one day he simply felt his strength wane—until then, he had harbored a faint hope of having a legitimate son to inherit his title and lands.

At such a time, one must consider the future. After pondering for three or four years, he finally decided to call back his eldest daughter as heir.

Brudo’s domain had an ancient legal tradition, so its inheritance system differed from neighboring realms—it followed primogeniture by eldest child, regardless of gender. For example, if Count Brudo ruled the land, his heir would first be his son; if no son, then his daughter; if no children, then relatives from other branches.

Upon arriving at the great hall, the countess noticed the royal envoy was also present. This envoy had previously brought the king’s sincere proposal to Brudo, with Eva as the intended bride. But now, everything was clearly changed.

Before the countess even approached, she heard the count saying, “...So, according to you, you wish to marry my daughter to your prince. Oh, I have no objection to that, and we can even skip negotiating the marriage terms—the only difference is the choice of bride has changed.”

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The envoy understood perfectly that this was the count mocking him, though the count fully comprehended that the king merely wanted to find a land-owning heiress for his son. If the younger daughter could not inherit Brudo, choosing her as the prince’s bride would be foolish. But why think from another’s perspective?

From his own standpoint, someone being picky about his daughter was always irritating.

The envoy swallowed his pride and even spoke in a relaxed tone about the latest “change”: “Oh no, Count. I believe there is one more thing to change about the marriage contract—our groom must be replaced as well.”

This caught the count off guard. “What about our King Riadom?”

“Prince Guillaume is fine, but the king believes that since Prince Guillaume already has his own lands, Prince Philip is more in need of this marriage...” The envoy explained somewhat awkwardly.

The count quickly realized this was probably not the king’s personal view, but the queen’s. King Louis III of Vason had been married three times, producing seven legitimate children who survived infancy and were sons—the queen Anna, the current one, had Prince Philip and Prince François.

In the royal family, many children were a blessing, and they could afford to raise them all. However, resources were limited, so Queen Anna naturally wanted to secure more for her own sons.

Louisa had never expected that the first serious matter upon her return to the Brudo court would be discussing her marriage with Count Brudo—right after the welcoming family banquet.

“Overall, replacing Prince Guillaume with Prince Philip is not a bad thing. Guillaume is brave and skilled in battle, but Philip has the queen’s support and will not lack lands and wealth in the future. However, we cannot accept the royal family’s substitution demand without some benefit. What do you think about this?” The count asked, observing his unfamiliar eldest daughter as he spoke.

Without hesitation, Louisa replied, “Of course, you can use this opportunity to ask for some concessions, such as allowing our currency to circulate freely throughout Vason.”

“That’s unlikely,” the count shook his head.

“But there is room for negotiation, isn’t there, Father? If free circulation throughout Vason isn’t possible, then at least in the east? That is where most of our coin circulates.” Though Louisa was raised in a convent, she had the habits of a modern person and collected external information whenever she could, so she understood these matters.

Currently in Vason, the royal family, nobility, and even some bishops and monasteries had the right to mint coins. To address this, the king had enacted a law years ago allowing lords to retain minting rights, but the coins they minted could only circulate within their own domains.

The impact of this law was moderate, since coins were made of precious metals and held intrinsic value, not subject to royal decree alone. Merchants still exchanged various coins as usual. But it did influence matters—at similar quality, royal mint coins naturally held an advantage.

Though slight, this advantage accumulated over time, making it increasingly difficult for other mints to compete—unless the royal mint itself degraded quality drastically.

The conversation between Louisa and Count Brudo did not last long. It was ultimately settled that she would become betrothed to Prince Philip without issue... which had already been decided long ago. Changing the prince at the last minute did not matter politically, as long as he was a legitimate son of Louis III.

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Yet, once back in her chambers, Louisa knew this was very different.

At present, both princes were legitimate sons of Louis III. Above them were three older brothers—originally four, but the eldest had died of typhoid last year, and the crown prince position had been replaced. Excluding the one who had entered the church, there were two left. Their chances of ascending the throne were slim, so it seemed it did not matter which prince she married.

But who could have guessed that both would eventually become kings of Vason? Louisa knew this because this world was actually from a novel she had just finished reading in her previous life—a work of alternate medieval fiction.

As expected, the two elder princes would die unexpectedly one after another, leaving the crown to Prince Guillaume. But he too would die young and childless, passing the throne to Prince Philip. Philip was the male protagonist of the novel, while the heroine was a princess of a small duchy east of Vason.

As for Louisa’s role in the original story, well, there was no character named Louisa Balzac. Her half-sister Eva, however, had a minor role as the third lead.

In the original, without Louisa’s presence, Eva was the one betrothed and married to Prince Philip—though she was not his true love and had once been jealous of the heroine. Eva ultimately died in childbirth. After Eva’s death, Philip could no longer suppress his feelings and remarried the heroine, a widowed noblewoman.

Later, Prince Guillaume (by then king) died young, Philip ascended the throne, and the heroine became Queen of Vason, helping Philip become a wise and just ruler.

Louisa was not opposed to marrying a future king and becoming queen. In this era and position, she could not freely determine her fate anyway. Marriage was marriage. Having a spouse who was the novel’s approved kind and a royal was already very fortunate.

As long as she did not suffer the same fate as Eva, dying in childbirth due to “plot inertia” — that was the main thing. The fact that her future husband had a true love was a minor matter. After all, they lived in a deeply patriarchal feudal era. To obsess over that would be naive and pretentious.

Louisa was somewhat innocent by nature but also easy-going and contented. Otherwise, she would not have adapted so well to this era. Heaven only knew how spiritually tormenting it was to grow up isolated in a convent, praying and chanting every day.

Most women of this time could hardly endure it, let alone Louisa, who came from the modern world. Having seen the light, she found darkness even harder to bear.

Of course, her transmigration came with a blessing: Louisa possessed a personal space. It had no magical powers, but it contained a small supermarket from her previous life.

Though the supplies inside would not regenerate after use (time stood still in this space, so products never expired), occasionally using modern goods to improve her life brought Louisa considerable happiness. These small joys in daily life were truly comforting.