Countess of Nottingham

Chapter 3

Dana slammed the jar containing fine flour onto the long kitchen table, then scooped a ladleful of coarse flour onto the sieve. Placing a fresh container underneath, she continued the rhythmic shaking of her arms. She had been at this task—sifting bran from wheat flour—for nearly the entire morning, and a sense of resentment inevitably bubbled up. She spoke to the cook with a touch of bitterness: "Coarse or fine, it’s all food. Even the Count isn't as fussy as she is."

The cook shot her a glare. "Keep your mouth shut about that!"

"Am I wrong?" Dana huffed, feeling aggrieved, then added sarcastically, "A Countess bought with money, bringing not a single penny of a dowry, yet she demands white bread for every meal. I..."

Noticing the cook signaling her with a look, Dana turned around to find Susie standing in the kitchen doorway, looking awkward. "Tsk, tsk. What brings the Lady's personal maid to our kitchen?"

Susie’s face flushed red; she hesitated a moment before speaking: "My Lady sent me to remind everyone not to forget the disinfection procedures. Remember to wash your hands before and after cooking, and when carrying dishes, too. Also, all metal cutlery must be seared over a flame before use, disinfected regularly with spirits, and stored where rats can't reach them. Pay attention to kitchen hygiene in general—do not consume anything contaminated with rat droppings or gnawed by rats. Furthermore, regarding meat—especially pork..."

Susie’s voice was not loud, yet she clearly conveyed every new rule Lia had issued to everyone in the kitchen.

*Clang!* Dana tossed the flour sieve onto the long table and turned to leave.

"You—where are you going?" Susie asked, bewildered by the interruption. “I’m going to fetch water—I’ll wash my hands when I get back!” Dana shouted back at her without even turning around.

Susie’s face flushed, and she sheepishly walked away.

The cook pursed her lips.

It wasn’t just the kitchen; the entire castle had received orders from Lia for a massive cleanup.

True, she was under house arrest and f*******n from leaving the premises. But aside from that restriction, Nottingham had issued no other directives regarding her. This meant that, barring the inability to step outside, Lia could exercise any of the rights belonging to the mistress of the castle.

And the first thing she intended to do was improve the appalling sanitary conditions.

Oh, the rat droppings scattered everywhere; oh, the mysterious, pungent stench wafting from some hollow space; oh, and the way they used the same rag that had just wiped the table to wipe the plates...

Lia felt like she was losing her mind. However, she felt compelled to offer up another three cucumbers at her bedside—a silent prayer of contrition—once she learned that Nottingham Castle’s hygiene standards were actually top-tier by national comparisons. After all, it had separate latrines, an ample supply of water for drinking and cleaning, and a system where servants regularly cleared away trash and waste rather than letting it pile up inside. In contrast, out in the countryside—in ordinary farmhouses or even the homes of low-ranking knights—relieving oneself wherever one pleased was the norm; if excrement ended up on the indoor floor, people would simply shovel it against the base of the wall and call it a day.

Oh, Great God of Transmigration, I must confess my sins to You. You aren't actually shameless; at least when it came to choosing my background, You didn't sink to a new low in terms of conscience. Had I been transported to a household where the floors were paved with "golden armor"—human waste—I would have been better off just slitting my own throat and ending it all. Amen...

If the issues mentioned earlier were merely things she could overlook or tolerate, the matter at hand—her diet—directly challenged habits she had held for over twenty years.

That’s right: food. The "aristocratic" practice of roasting fruit over a fire and then sprinkling it with salt or pepper was absolutely maddening. Spices and seasonings were incredibly precious in this era; a small jar of pepper could fetch the price of three young, beautiful female slaves. Even with a husband as wealthy as Nottingham, Lia found the idea of ​​eating apples with pepper heartbreakingly wasteful. What was even more heartbreaking was that vegetables like carrots and cabbage were eaten raw. I’m a human being, for crying out loud—not Bugs Bunny!

As for the bread, Lia couldn't even bring herself to complain about it anymore. She didn't know that baking bread involved the tedious process of sifting flour, but even the white bread served at her table—a rarity for ordinary households—paled in comparison to what she was used to. It made her realize that even a king, in such a backward age, couldn't enjoy the simple pleasures available to an ordinary, average woman of the twenty-first century.

After some serious reflection, Lia resolved to overhaul her lifestyle. She could put up with the bread and other inconveniences for the time being, but improving her living environment was a matter of urgency.

Since she was destined to live here for years—perhaps even a lifetime—and since her fate was unchangeable with nowhere else to go, why not shape this place to better suit her own tastes? As for whether the changes would please Nottingham, Lia subconsciously brushed that thought aside. She figured she wouldn't get a second chance to transmigrate, so if the stars, the location, and the people weren't going her way, she was going to make some small changes to her life. My dear Count, you’ll just have to humor me. Leah began sketching the layout of the entire castle as she walked along the corridors. Nottingham forbade her from leaving the premises, yet the interior rooms—including his private study—were fully accessible to her.

Leah strolled in boldly to look around, only to leave feeling rather underwhelmed. There was nothing particularly special about the place; aside from the two rows of bookshelves lining the walls—which might have looked impressive in an era where illiterates outnumbered lice—the room lacked any distinctive character. It failed completely to reflect the persona of Odin’s number-one villain. Then again, she shrugged; she couldn't quite picture what a villain's study *should* look like anyway.

It took her two days—excluding the basement—to produce a rough sketch of the main structure of Nottingham Castle. As for just *how* rough that sketch was? Well, that was a matter of opinion. At the very least, after staring at it for a full hour, Ruby helplessly remarked, "My Lady, navigating the maze you've drawn here would be quite a challenge..."

As a science student with no background in design, Leah was actually quite pleased with what she had managed to produce. Yet, she was forced to confront a cruel reality: female readers who spent their time on sites like JJ—even after transmigrating—couldn't simply activate the "cheat codes" enjoyed by the harem-building male protagonists of Qidian novels. Forget about shattering physical limits, commanding legions, or shaping the destiny of nations; why was it so difficult just to install a basic plumbing system in this backward castle? While Qidian protagonists transmigrating to primitive tribes could practically build atomic bombs, she was stuck sighing over a sketch that was as crude as crude could be.

It just wasn't happening—there was simply no way to pull it off.

The concept sounded simple enough: just two sets of pipes—one to supply clean water and another to drain away wastewater. Such a system would effectively prevent drinking water contamination and the bacterial hazards that came with it. It was easy enough to distinguish the systems by name: the "up-water" system obviously moved water from bottom to top, while the "down-water" system moved it from top to bottom. The downward flow was manageable, but how on earth was she supposed to handle the upward flow?

Lia racked her brain, trying to recall the high school lessons she’d long since forgotten. She reasoned that the issue likely involved pressure—a concept that fell squarely within the realm of physics. Thinking of physics naturally led to thoughts of gravity; gravity led to Newton; and thoughts of Newton led to...

"Ruby, wash me an apple!"

Damn it...

Lia made the tragic realization that her only advantage after transmigrating was knowing a bunch of technical terms without having the faintest idea how to apply the underlying theories. It was absolutely miserable.

The only "cheat code" the Transmigration Gods had granted her was an obedient personal maid who could wash her an apple anytime, anywhere...

Well, regardless, the hygiene overhaul did yield some results. With the cooperation of the housekeeper, Mrs. Hammer, Lia had managed to drill some basic hygiene concepts into the heads of the castle's inhabitants—though ensuring actual compliance would require long-term supervision.

The plan for a proper plumbing system had essentially fizzled out. Her grand, beautiful vision had been reduced to a single, large sheet-metal tank that the butler had installed on the castle roof. Guards were assigned to fetch, fill, sun-heat, and release the water daily; it technically utilized solar energy, making it a major technological breakthrough for the entire realm of Odin.

Gazing at that drab, grey sheet-metal tank, Lia wept; she felt she couldn't bear to face the successful veterans of the transmigration community...

With the march of civilization stalled, Lia turned her attention back to her plan for having a child. Quill and parchment in hand, she pressed Susie repeatedly: "My dear, speak freely; I promise not a soul—aside from us—will ever hear a word of this conversation. Hmm, well, Ruby doesn't count; she’s just a bystander... So, exactly how many mistresses does the Count have?"

Susie looked on the verge of tears. "My Lady, I truly don't know."

She had shared plenty of details about Nottingham with Leah—his preferred foods and wines, his daily routine (when he rose, slept, rode, and practiced swordsmanship), and his habit of seeking solitude in his study. Yet, she remained tight-lipped, refusing to divulge a single scrap of information regarding his private life.

Leah could understand this to an extent; after all, Susie was a maid at Nottingham Castle whose livelihood—past, present, and future—depended on the Count. Offending the Countess was one thing, but crossing the Count—or, worse, his beloved mistress—would make life miserable.

Still, Leah wasn't satisfied. Knowing the minutiae of Nottingham’s daily habits was all well and good, but she needed to know about her husband’s—*ahem*—tastes when it came to women.

"Come look at this!" Ruby, who had been standing by the window, suddenly spoke up.

At Leah’s behest, the housekeeper had installed the very first set of curtains in all of Odin in her bedchamber. People were baffled by this peculiar request; in a castle where windows were scarce and most areas were shrouded in gloom, hanging silk drapes to block out the sunlight seemed utterly incomprehensible.

Leah couldn't be bothered to explain the concept of privacy to them. Although the housekeeper refused to implement this measure in every room with a window throughout the castle, she stopped worrying about it once she was spared the risk of guards in the opposite tower watching her sleep, scratch an itch, or pick her nose.

Just then, Leah walked over to Ruby, lifted a corner of the curtain, and followed Ruby’s gaze outside. A carriage—featuring doors made of wood reinforced with sheet metal—was pulled open, and the vehicle rolled onto the castle’s stone-paved courtyard.

The carriage came to a halt in front of the main building, and two boys, looking to be about seven or eight years old, climbed out. They were too far away to make out their features clearly, but their attire unmistakably marked them as young aristocrats.

"Who is that?" Leah asked.

Susie shook her head, indicating she didn't know them personally, though she recognized the carriage. "That belongs to Baroness Hill."

Holy crap!

A baroness and two young boys... Leah was suddenly seized with panic; she was in deep trouble!

She hadn't even figured out what kind of women Nottingham preferred yet, and already a squad of illegitimate sons had shown up on the doorstep to stir up trouble?!