Chapter 208 Traveling Through the Middle Ages 208

Chapter 208 Time-Traveling to the Middle Ages 208

As Baron Andre’s sister had mentioned, Baron Andre’s household was currently hosting the former Countess of Basque (though out of respect, it was still perfectly acceptable to address her as the Countess of Basque).

Originally, hosting provincial relatives temporarily was nothing unusual—nobles in Vasson, especially those in Xidai (Capital city of Vasson), were particularly fond of such hospitality. After all, as nobles with grand estates, they certainly had no shortage of living space, and an extra place setting at meals was hardly a burden. Providing food and lodging for visiting relatives cost little, yet it was an excellent opportunity to show off their wealth and generosity!

However, Baron Andre was somewhat reluctant to host the Countess of Basque this time.

Everyone knew that the "Countess of Basque" had once been engaged to His Majesty the King. Though she was the jilted party in the broken engagement scandal, who could say whether the Queen would mind? The stereotype was that women always cared about such matters—and stereotypes existed precisely because they were so frequently observed.

Moreover, it just so happened that the current Queen was not someone to be crossed. Not only did her noble lineage and personal abilities grant her immense confidence, but the King’s trust in her had also reached a point where some ministers openly complained.

Baron Andre, however, had no objections to this. For one, the Queen had never shown any disapproval of him, and her conduct had always been by-the-book, leaving no room for criticism. Her authority had not affected him, so naturally, he had nothing to complain about. Secondly—and this was no surprise—Baron Andre was the King’s right-hand man. His principle was simple: the King’s stance was his stance. Truly, the epitome of loyalty!

Since the King trusted the Queen, Baron Andre would respect Her Majesty even if they had disagreements—let alone when their relationship had always been one of peaceful coexistence.

In short, Baron Andre had no desire to offend the Queen over such matters, especially not a Queen who wielded real power and with whom he had maintained a tacit understanding. Now that Prince Guillaume was away from Xidai and Louisa was acting in his stead, Baron Andre, as the Court Chamberlain, was collaborating with her more closely than ever before!

Yet refusing to host the Countess of Basque was out of the question. In an era that prized bloodlines, kinship ties were paramount. This was not the modern "atomized society," where cutting off relatives was increasingly common and one could live freely without them.

In these times, a person’s most fundamental "capital" lay in their kin. The upper classes relied on familial networks to "stand united," thereby consolidating their rule. As for the lower classes, they too depended on such bonds for survival—though admittedly, this was less obvious among the poor, who were often too destitute to help even themselves, let alone their relatives.

Still, the absence of kinship support was devastating for the lower classes, who could be crushed and swallowed up without a sound. Helping others wasn’t just about money or material aid—sometimes, simply having relatives around was protection enough.

Even rulers could not escape the reliance on family ties. When Prince Guillaume first ascended the throne, he had to show kindness to the royal family and distribute benefits. So how could Baron Andre possibly turn away the widow of his cousin who had come seeking shelter? If she had made unreasonable demands, that would be one thing—but merely staying in his home? To drive her out would make him an outcast overnight!

"My lord, there’s no need to worry. Though the Countess’s presence may be somewhat inconvenient, what real trouble could it cause? As you’ve said, Her Majesty the Queen is not the jealous type. Haven’t you heard? The palace is full of ladies trying to catch the King’s eye, and the Queen, astute as she is, sees it all. Yet she hasn’t punished or expelled a single one. Compared to them, the Countess of Basque is hardly a concern." In Baron Andre’s residence, his steward offered this reassurance upon seeing his master’s furrowed brow.

"Who can say for sure?" Baron Andre shook his head. He knew the chances of offending the Queen over this were slim, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Still, there was no point dwelling on it now. Changing the subject, he asked, "Where is the Countess now? Still with my wife?"

The steward didn’t know, so he glanced at a nearby attendant, who quickly replied, "Yes, my lord. The Countess has been with Her Ladyship since noon, working on some needlework. They’re making a pair of relic covers to donate to the church—each crafting one. It’s not a large task, but it’s delicate. It’ll likely take a few days to complete."

Baron Andre gave a dismissive "Hmm" and asked no further.

As the attendant had reported, the Countess of Basque—or rather, the story’s original heroine, Sophia of Potslia—was indeed in a sunlit parlor with Baroness Andre, engaged in needlework.

They weren’t alone; several other noblewomen and ladies were present as well.

Unlike her husband, the Baroness sympathized deeply with the Countess of Basque, her heart going out to her. Sophia had suffered under an irresponsible father who cared only for profit, never for his daughter’s future.

This was evident not just in how Sophia’s sisters had been married off to disastrous matches, but also in how her own engagement to Prince Guillaume had ended—with the Duke of Potslia’s ready acquiescence. While engagements could always be broken if one party insisted, few fathers were as easily "bought off" as the Duke of Potslia.

Then, the Countess of Basque had married a husband who died young—and to make matters worse, she had failed to produce an heir before his passing. Now, her situation was precarious: unwelcome in her late husband’s family, yet unable to return to her own.

As for why she couldn’t go back to her family, it wasn’t that her in-laws forbade it—it was her own refusal. And she had good reason: staying in Vasson meant freedom and considerable wealth, while returning to her father’s house would leave her powerless.

The Countess of Basque and the late Count of Basque had no children, so according to their prenuptial agreement, she was entitled to reclaim her entire dowry (a king’s ransom, gifted by Louis III). Even if some of it had been spent, her in-laws were obligated to make up the difference. Additionally, she could take back all the gifts her husband’s family had given her. Combined, this made her a wealthy woman indeed.

She knew full well that if she returned to her family with these assets, the chronically impoverished Duke of Potslia would seize them immediately. In that case, her future would be bleak—either married off to whichever noble would take her with a meager dowry or sent to a convent to live out her days. While noble widows could enter convents with less financial burden than their birth or marital status would normally require, it was still a far cry from the life she desired.

That was not the future Sophia wanted. She had always sought to control her own destiny, even as a young girl. But back then, as an unmarried daughter, she had been powerless to act—her fate had been dictated by others. Thus, her life had taken one twist after another: from Prince Guillaume’s fiancée to the wife of the Count of Basque, all at the whim of others.

Now, as a widow, she still couldn’t claim full autonomy, but she had some room to maneuver. Staying with her in-laws was impossible, and returning to her family was out of the question. So she had chosen to come to Xidai to try her luck…

The Baroness glanced at Sophia’s needlework and praised, "Your hands are truly skilled! Look at how exquisite this embroidery is—the stitching so delicate, the colors so harmonious. To think such a beautiful cover will adorn a relic—it’s the relic’s good fortune!"

"Relics" might sound impressive, but aside from a select few, most were rather ordinary. When even a small church could claim to possess several of them, how seriously could nobles take them?

"You are too kind," Sophia said gently, returning the compliment on the Baroness's needlework.

She could sense the Baroness’s warmth toward her and, in turn, behaved even more graciously in her presence. It was simply her nature—to repay kindness with kindness and malice with malice, without fail. Back in Louisa’s past life, when crafting heroines, this was the standard archetype: a strong female lead who always settled scores, repaying both debts of gratitude and vengeance alike. Even the so-called "black lotus" (a scheming yet compelling character type), followed the rule of honoring favors—or else they would never win readers’ sympathy.

Sophia, along with the Baroness and other noble ladies and young women present, exchanged light conversation for a while before the talk naturally turned to the banquet that would soon be held at Baron Andre’s estate.

Given Baron Andre’s current status and standing, his household naturally maintained an appropriate level of grandeur. Throwing lavish banquets with eight-plus courses now and then was just part of the deal—it served his own social needs and gave others a chance to curry favor with this rising star.

But this banquet was clearly not one of the usual, routine affairs, as could be seen from the guest list. Many of the attendees were young men and women of matching social rank—hardly surprising, since everyone knew that the Baron Andre’s household had two daughters of marriageable age and three sons also ready to consider marriage prospects.