Chapter 206 Traveling Through the Middle Ages 206

Chapter 206: Time-Travel to the Middle Ages 206

Finding the right tin salt mordant for cochineal dyeing wasn’t particularly difficult (though perhaps we got lucky). In any case, results came within less than half a month after the order was given. The tin salt was identified, and the red cloth dyed with this mordant indeed showed a truer red compared to traditional cochineal-dyed fabric.

To Louisa’s eye, the new shade wasn’t necessarily more beautiful—slight differences between the two reds each had their own aesthetic appeal. Especially after seeing the vibrant hues of modern chemical dyes, the softer tones of ancient natural dyes might not be as eye-catching, but they carried an understated elegance.

Of course, no one thought about "sophistication" in this era. Most people simply pursued brightness—the more vivid, the better!

"...After washing, the color really holds much better!" a maid exclaimed in delight after testing the tin salt-mordanted red cloth.

Though outer garments made of red cloth were rarely washed, they weren’t entirely immune—such clothes were usually worn, brushed off, and then stored away. Even if stained, only spot cleaning was done to avoid excessive water exposure. After all, natural fabrics dyed with natural dyes would show signs of wear after just one wash.

This was true both in China and abroad. For instance, in *Dream of the Red Chamber*, descriptions of noble households often referred to textiles as "half-new, half-old." This wasn’t due to financial constraints or deliberate frugality but simply the nature of ancient textiles—after just a couple of washes, they inevitably took on that well-worn appearance.

"This is perfectly acceptable... Is My Lady planning to establish a dyehouse in Lagny?" Helena approached, not bothering to glance at the washed and dried red cloth in the maid’s hands—she had seen it earlier than anyone else. After all, she had supervised the mordant experiments and knew the results before even Louisa.

Louisa nodded but didn’t give it much thought. A dyehouse, even a large-scale one with significant output, might be a major asset to most people, but to her, it was barely worth mentioning.

In truth, she viewed this dyehouse much like the soap factory she had once set up in Troyes. By standards of the time, it would be sizable, but its real purpose was to serve as a model for the broader industry.

She now managed all affairs in Lagny, where Count Balzac remained the nominal lord, though actual governance had long fallen to her.

Earlier, she had brought "benefits" to Lagny—urban improvements that created jobs and genuinely enhanced living conditions, earning her both reputation and trust among the citizens. Though she knew the feudal mindset of treating territories as personal property was flawed, Louisa’s own interpretation leaned more toward constructive development rather than exploitation, so she saw no harm in it.

Driven by this so-called narrow-minded desire to develop her assets, Louisa had long sought a key industry for Lagny. The existing leather processing and fur trade weren’t bad, but they were too limited, and she wanted more growth for the city.

The discovery of indigo dye had happened to lead her to the idea of overdyeing with yellow for green and the tin salt cochineal dye. With these three superior dyeing techniques, she believed Lagny could support a successful dye business—without encroaching on Provins’ trade.

Provins was primarily a textile hub, and while its dyeing industry was decent, it mostly served as a supporting role for its dominant weaving sector. In fact, Provins’ dyehouses focused more on dyeing yarn than cloth, underscoring their role as textile auxiliaries.

Yarn dyeing—dyeing before spinning—was more work but preferred for fine quality fabrics, ensuring even coloration and preventing patchiness. Additionally, weaving patterns relied on interchanging warp and weft threads, which required pre-dyed yarns unless embroidery or printing was used.

Provins’ textiles were predominantly high-grade, so its dyehouses specialized in yarn rather than taking on external cloth-dyeing contracts.

Lagny, meanwhile, would focus on cloth dyeing, posing no threat to Provins—even cochineal-dyed red cloth, a premium product typically requiring yarn dyeing, was just one niche. Since both cities were effectively her personal holdings, internal competition was unnecessary, but neither should she avoid growth out of caution.

In fact, establishing dyeing as a key industry in Lagny might even benefit Provins. As an international textile trade hub, Provins hosted the annual "Foire de Provins," where textiles accounted for nearly half the market.

Many finished or semi-finished textiles, though not produced in Provins, were shipped there for wholesale.

As a neighboring city, if Lagny developed a strong dyeing industry, even securing a fraction of Provins’ dyeing contracts could propel rapid expansion. And once Lagny’s dyeing sector flourished, it would draw more textile merchants to Provins, reinforcing the region’s commercial advantages.

"Let’s leave it at that for now," Louisa finally said with a tired look, signaling that dyehouse matters no longer required her direct oversight.

She had already delegated management, and with the cochineal mordant resolved, she could wash her hands of it entirely. Her eagerness to disengage stemmed partly from the project’s reduced complexity—subordinates who had handled the Troyes wine soap venture should manage this—and partly from Guillaume’s impending tour of his lands.

Guillaume was set to conduct a comprehensive inspection of Vexin, including large-scale hunts with local nobles—a plan set since last year. Now, an additional objective had been added: pressuring nobles to contribute funds for His Majesty the King’s new palace.

Extracting money from others’ pockets was as challenging as implanting ideas in their minds, so unsurprisingly, the "donations" were slow in coming. Even in nearby Île-de-France, most nobles feigned ignorance unless directly named by Guillaume.

This infuriated him, and he confided in Louisa that he would soon issue a public accounting to expose those still withholding funds. She anticipated endless excuses—cash flow issues, recent dowry expenses, "even landlords have no surplus grain," etc.

While Guillaume could justify palace funding as a feudal norm—even minor nobles squeezed their subjects for castle repairs—he couldn’t push too hard. Unlike wartime levies, palace construction lacked the same moral urgency.

Put bluntly: men would die for war without hesitation, but funding a king’s personal project? Less compelling.

Sure enough, when Guillaume returned later, his expression was neither truly angry nor outright grim. Louisa considered asking his attendants for details, but he shook his head at her unspoken question. "Don’t bother them. I’ll tell you everything myself."

Then Guillaume recounted the day's events. Just as Louisa had anticipated, some still dragged their feet like wet mops. However, such individuals were ultimately in the minority—yes, Guillaume could hardly push too hard for a bit of money to build the palace. Their stalling even risked scuttling the entire project.

This was hardly surprising. In the past, whenever the king collected funds, the full amount was never gathered. Aside from some embezzlement, there were always those who simply didn’t pay!

Still, even if Guillaume refrained from overt pressure, as the monarch, no one wanted to get on his bad side. Once marked in his books, future troubles would be doubly severe—hardly an amusing prospect. So, weighing the pros and cons, most chose to pay up to avoid disaster.

"Let it be... Honestly, if the nobles of Cité could also join the 'Construction Committee,' such delays wouldn’t happen. But letting them join is unnecessary—wasting slots and inviting outright graft," Louisa mused. Though merely stating a fact, it diverted Guillaume’s attention.

Indeed, this time, the nobles contributing larger sums could join the 'Construction Committee,' giving them a chance to recoup their expenses. However, those who spent most of the year in Cité were excluded. To others, this signaled Guillaume’s firmer control over the capital’s nobles, making such 'bribery' unnecessary, while also reflecting his dissatisfaction with their rampant corruption over the years.

But for Guillaume and Louisa, this arrangement wasn’t the real reason. Their true motive for forming the 'Construction Committee' was to gather regional nobles in Cité... First, by this method, bringing them to the capital—once was enough to set a precedent, making future maneuvers easier. Thus, nobles already in Cité naturally didn’t need to occupy spots in the committee.

As for profiteering, that was also true. As local power brokers in Cité, if they joined the committee, they’d have far more pull and tricks than country nobles.