Chapter Eight: The Strange "Food Chain"

Lord Robert held the slightly chipped bar of soap in his hand, as if "Jerry" had just seized the cheese and was still savoring its subtlety.

The notch in the soap resembled the gnaw marks of a starving mouse, revealing a peculiar "food chain" phenomenon.

She found it hard to imagine that anyone would actually nibble on something so utterly unconventional and clearly not meant for consumption.

Recalling earlier, who was it that had sworn disdain for the food of the lowly? Though they verbally rejected it, their heart was strangely honest.

Onnie’s sharp gaze fixed intently on Lord Robert, trying to peer through his shameless facade, seeking any trace of embarrassment.

Yet, to her disappointment, Lord Robert seemed utterly indifferent to his previous remarks.

Could he truly derive amusement from his own awkwardness?

Onnie lightly traced the rough edge of the basin, setting it on the table, feeling that this was perhaps the only explanation.

Lord Robert gently placed the soap back onto the plate and commented, “The taste isn’t great at all. Next time, remember to use less salt. Also, it’s far too bitter!”

As he spoke, a puzzled look lingered on his face, as if he were still trying to confirm just how unpalatable the thing truly was.

Perhaps it was the soap’s enticing fragrance and appearance that stubbornly compelled him to try it, despite knowing better.

“Ugh—pah!” Immediately, a look of disgust crossed his face as he spat onto the floor, then rinsed his mouth with malt beer.

Seeing this, Onnie hurriedly stepped aside, wary of any spittle staining her precious skirts.

As for his comment on it being too salty...

That was only natural! The alkaline water filtered through wood ash reacts with fats to create fatty acid salts—how could it not be salty?

Not only salty, but the rosemary essential oil additive in the soap could cause mild neurotoxicity. The strong alkali would neutralize stomach acid, leading to indigestion, hiccups, bloating, and a persistent soapy taste in the mouth.

The scene was too vivid for her to imagine, and yet she felt no sympathy!

“Ha ha~” Laughter came from outside. Onnie turned sharply to glare at the young boys, who, aware of the soap’s true purpose, had gathered to watch, their faces full of mischief.

She fixed her gaze on Lord Robert.

Without a word, Onnie removed the soap, deciding not to mention the matter of having the lord help sell the soap to other regions during the Viking era.

Instead, she produced another “treasure”: distilled rosemary essential oil perfume. If he didn’t like it, she had lavender scent as well!

She mysteriously uncorked the perfume bottle and set it on the table.

A rich aroma of rosemary spread through the air—fresh, uplifting, and invigorating, evoking a sense of peace and satisfaction.

She believed those troubled by body odor from overactive sweat glands would find great interest in this—just a dab and their worries would vanish!

Lord Robert took the small perfume bottle she handed him and sniffed.

Seeing his action, Onnie thought he might try to drink it again and hastily grabbed his wrist. His arm was indeed quite hairy, and the fuzziness lent a peculiar, almost ancestral beauty.

Lord Robert looked at Onnie’s hand gripping his wrist and met her gaze with an inexplicable look.

She quickly withdrew her hand.

“Don’t drink it!” Onnie smiled awkwardly, pulling back, “It’s too salty!”

If he truly drank it, at best he’d suffer a month of soapy hiccups and even his excretions would smell of soap; at worst, he might perish on the spot.

The image was too vivid for her to bear imagining. If that happened, no matter the severity, she was certain she’d be made into a blood eagle.

Would she?

Onnie slowly took her seat and began to describe the wonders of the perfume to Lord Robert, sparking his keen interest.

“If what you say is true, this stuff might be more precious than gold!” Lord Robert said, pouring a little perfume into his palm and gently rubbing it in. Suddenly, he coughed twice, clearly overwhelmed by the strong scent.

“It needs to be diluted with water!” Onnie explained hurriedly, sniffing the rosemary and pointing to the basin on the table. “Wash your hands!”

“Quite a fine thing. Next time I go to Viking lands, I’ll bring it along. For every ten bottles sold, I’ll give you the profit of one bottle!” Lord Robert plunged his hand into the basin and looked at Onnie with eyes that regarded a treasure.

Onnie was puzzled for a moment but soon grasped the crux of the matter and shook her head firmly. “No, this is a gift for you. I only want to borrow a sea vessel. If you refuse, I can build one myself!”

Lord Robert pondered for a while, fixing his gaze on Onnie. Just when she thought he might agree, he shook his head.

“No?” Onnie felt a pang of disappointment—she did not understand.

“No, I will give you ten percent of the profits and I will gift you a ship. Also, if the ship is damaged, you may build one yourself, but you can only own a single vessel!” Lord Robert admired the little bottle.

A single ship?

No tonnage restrictions?

Are you sure?

Wrapped in a sudden wave of happiness from the deal struck, Onnie felt assured that her approach was correct.

Since the Viking journey happened only once a year, how much profit could a fragrant perfume’s share bring? It was better to set sail herself!

“Wait a moment!” Onnie dashed back to her room, retrieved a piece of parchment, and returned to Lord Robert’s side. After sketching the distillation apparatus, she wrote the instructions on the parchment and handed it to him.

He glanced at it, growing increasingly perplexed before shaking his head. “It’s too complicated. You just handle perfume production from now on. Tell my steward whatever materials you need!”

Having secured the benefit, Onnie had initially wanted to avoid the trouble but found herself at a loss for words.

She decided to leave it to her subordinates.

In the end, she realized she had lost nothing—the formula remained hers, and she controlled how much perfume to supply. She had gained a significant advantage for free.

Was this a blessing in disguise?

As for profits from selling the perfume, how much could it really be? With only one Viking voyage a year, was it truly more valuable than having the lord’s permission to sail?

“Holger?” Lord Robert glanced around outside, as if searching for his steward. “Did Holger not come along?”

Unbeknownst to him, Holger was boldly "looking after" his wife in his absence.

“Sir, the steward remained in the hall. Shall I call him over?” a soldier suddenly bowed and reported.

“No need!” Lord Robert stood, cast a glance at Onnie, and left.

At the door, he paused and looked at Onnie, who was seeing him off. “My brother Harold likes you very much. I hope you won’t disappoint him!”

Onnie gazed quietly but with puzzlement.

“Of course, if you change your mind, you can come to me anytime. If you wish to become my second wife, my promise still stands!” With that, he strode away.

With the man who could threaten her life gone, Onnie felt neither joy nor anger stirred by his words. Instead, she quietly reflected on the earlier questioning in the lord’s hall.

To want, to obtain, and to accomplish—if today is better than yesterday, isn’t that hope?

If she clung to every step like grasping a lifeline, she believed that one day, what she held would be a towering tree she once thought unattainable.

...

Meanwhile, in the lord’s bedchamber, Lady Yarl was cleaning a stain while combing her hair. She looked up at Steward Holger, her jealousy flaring. “Who was this Onnie you kept calling earlier?”

“The lord’s favored one, a very beautiful lady with an indescribable calmness. She might become the future second Lady Yarl!” Holger tied his belt casually, not hiding his fantasies as he replied.

“What? I thought she was one of your slaves. How dare Robert betray me? How dare he? He promised to love and protect me forever! That liar!” Lady Yarl seemed deeply insulted, snapping her antler comb in two and violently throwing it to the ground.

Suddenly, a thought struck her. With a cold glare at Holger, she commanded, “Go! Kill her. Make her disappear forever!”

“What?” Holger’s face changed dramatically. “Are you mad? Yarl will kill me if he finds out!”

“Then don’t let him find out. If you don’t go, I’ll tell Yarl about us. I’ll say you take advantage of his absence to offend me every day!” Lady Yarl threatened, eyes flashing with fierce resolve.

Just as Holger hesitated, footsteps sounded outside the door. His face suddenly paled as he looked at the equally startled Lady Yarl.