Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Ella trudged through the cobblestone streets, dodging horse manure and feeling like she was dragging the weight of the world on her back—or at least the weight of several unbaked loaves of bread. The sun had barely risen, and she was already over it."This," she muttered to herself, "is not what I signed up for when I read this novel. No one told me that being a poor, orphaned peasant involved waking up at ungodly hours to bake bread."The smell of fresh bread wafted out from the bakery as she approached. Normally, that would be a comforting smell—warm, inviting, maybe even cozy—but not today. Not when she knew she'd be elbow-deep in dough for the next eight hours. Where's my cute montage scene? she thought bitterly. Where's the Duke sweeping me off my feet and rescuing me from this bakery prison?She pushed open the door, the little bell above it jingling as she entered. Inside, Mrs. Cavanaugh, the human embodiment of "don't mess with me," was already hard at work. The woman was built like an ox, with arms that could probably wrestle a bear, and a face that looked like it had never heard of the word "smile.""Yer late!" Mrs. Cavanaugh bellowed without even looking up from the dough she was furiously kneading. "Get yer lazy bones over here, girl. We've got 50 loaves to make by noon."Ella bit back a groan. Fifty loaves? It might as well have been 500. Where's the union when you need one? She dragged her feet over to the counter and started kneading dough next to Mrs. Cavanaugh, who watched her out of the corner of her eye like a hawk sizing up its prey."Quit daydreaming, girl!" Mrs. Cavanaugh barked. "These loaves won't make themselves!""Right," Ella muttered under her breath. "Wouldn't want the magical bread elves to get lazy." She wiped flour from her hands and sighed. Great. Bread today, probably eternal obscurity tomorrow.As she worked, Ella's mind wandered. She started glancing around at the few customers who trickled in and out. There was Mrs. Higgins, an elderly woman who always smelled faintly of cabbage, and Mr. Roberts, whose breath could knock out a small animal. Okay, no offense, but some of these people could really use a bar of soap. Or toothpaste. Or... both. Like, immediately.Mr. Roberts leaned over the counter, grinning at her, his teeth stained a suspicious shade of yellow. "Mornin', missy. Got me a fresh loaf?"Ella swallowed hard, trying not to breathe through her nose. "Sure," she said, sliding a loaf of bread across the counter while making sure to stay out of the line of fire. Why does his breath smell like he's been chewing on dead rats? she wondered, offering a weak smile."Good Lord," she muttered to herself after he left, fanning the air. "Forget bread. These people need personal hygiene intervention, stat."Mrs. Cavanaugh shot her a look. "What was that, girl?""Nothing! Just... uh, thinking about... how wonderful bread is."Mrs. Cavanaugh raised an eyebrow but didn't press further, likely more concerned with the rising dough than Ella's half-muttered complaints. Ella continued kneading, but the more she thought about it, the more the wheels in her head began to turn. What if I could fix this? she thought. I'm not just a poor, insignificant commoner with sore arms from kneading dough. I've got 21st-century brain power!She paused, her fingers still in the dough as an idea took root. Soap. Toothpaste. Toothbrushes! Her eyes lit up. I can do this. I can save this town from itself! Forget being the background extra in someone else's love story—I'll be the girl who brought hygiene to the 1800s.Mrs. Cavanaugh gave her another side-eye. "You're grinnin' like a fool over there. Did you finally crack, girl?"Ella wiped the grin off her face and cleared her throat. "Uh, no. Just... really passionate about bread.""Mm-hmm," Mrs. Cavanaugh muttered, clearly unconvinced. "Less passion, more kneadin'."Ella went back to work, but her mind was elsewhere now. She wasn't just kneading dough; she was kneading ideas. First things first: make soap. Then toothpaste. Toothbrushes after that. She nodded to herself, excited. Step one, survive this shift. Step two, become the Steve Jobs of hygiene.As the morning dragged on, Ella's enthusiasm grew. I'll make a business plan, she thought. I'll revolutionize this town! I'll be the queen of cleanliness. She imagined herself in a flowing gown, holding a bar of soap like it was the holy grail, while peasants cheered her name.But first, she thought, glancing at the clock, I have to get out of here without collapsing from boredom.The bell above the bakery door jingled again, and Ella looked up, praying it wasn't another customer with lethal breath. But no, it was just Mrs. Cavanaugh's son, Fred, who always smelled like horses and onions. He gave her a nod, but Ella was too busy making a mental note: Add deodorant to the list.As the lunch hour hit and the bakery quieted down, Ella wiped sweat and flour off her face, feeling like she'd survived some medieval endurance test. She glanced at Mrs. Cavanaugh, who was already prepping for the afternoon rush, as tireless as ever.Ella took the opportunity to slip out for a break, leaning against the bakery's wall outside and staring at the sky. "Alright," she muttered to herself, "if I have to suffer through more bread, at least I can start planning my escape—my genius hygiene empire. Let's get these people clean."With that, Ella pushed off the wall, her mind buzzing with invention ideas, and marched back inside. She had a long day ahead of her, but the promise of soap—and freedom—kept her going.By the time Ella's shift finally ended, she felt like she'd been in the bakery for about 30 years. She massaged her aching arms, swearing she could feel her biceps growing from all the kneading. If I ever have to see another loaf of bread again, I might cry.She stepped out into the fresh air, grateful to escape the yeasty, flour-dusted prison, but her relief was short-lived. As soon as she took a deep breath, the overpowering smell of sweat and unwashed bodies hit her like a slap in the face."Oh God," she gagged, wrinkling her nose. "It's worse out here than in there! What is this, a village or a locker room?"She glanced around at the villagers bustling through the streets, and it hit her all at once. These people need help. Like, basic hygiene kind of help. Stat. As she watched a man scratch at something mysterious in his hair and another woman who had what could only be described as medieval-level breath, a lightbulb flickered on in her brain."Wait a minute..." she whispered to herself, the gears in her head beginning to turn. "I can fix this. I can literally save these people from themselves!"Her pace quickened as excitement started to bubble up inside her. The idea was taking shape, and it was brilliant. She practically sprinted home, dodging horse manure and villagers alike, her mind buzzing with the possibilities."Soap," she muttered breathlessly, the word tasting like sweet salvation. "I'll make soap! And toothpaste! Oh, they need toothpaste more than anything. And toothbrushes! Oh, toothbrushes—why does no one here brush their teeth?"The more she thought about it, the more unstoppable she felt. Her bakery daydreams had been slow and sluggish, but this? This was it. This was her way out of obscurity. This was how she could leave her mark on this backward, 1800s soap-dodging society.These people are over here trying to live without the basics, she thought, her steps growing faster. No wonder everyone in the novel stinks! Why didn't the author mention the smell? She made it sound all romantic and rosy, but it's all BO and tooth rot!Ella threw open the door to her tiny rented room, which was a far cry from anything resembling comfort, but she was too hyped up to care. She grabbed the nearest scrap of paper and started scribbling furiously."Okay, soap," she said aloud, pacing back and forth like a mad scientist. "How hard can it be? Lye, oil, water, some herbs for a nice smell. Easy. Toothpaste... baking soda? Salt? Peppermint if I can find it, or at least something that doesn't taste like death. And toothbrushes? Wooden handles, bristles made from something not gross. Maybe plant fibers?"She threw her hands up. "This is brilliant. Why didn't I think of this earlier?"But then reality hit. "Oh wait, I've never made any of these things before. Like, ever." She stopped pacing, frowning at her scribbles. "I know how they're made, but... I've never actually done it. I mean, how hard could it be? I'm a genius, right?"Her confidence wavered slightly, but only for a second. No, she thought, shaking her head. I can do this. If I can survive a day of Mrs. Cavanaugh yelling at me about dough, I can definitely make soap. How hard could soap be?Ella sat down at her rickety table and stared at her messy notes. "No chemicals, no animal cruelty," she muttered, tapping the paper with her pencil. "Just good old-fashioned elbow grease and some ingenuity. I'll be like a 19th-century Martha Stewart, but with less jail time."She leaned back in her chair, grinning like a fool. "This is it," she said, her heart pounding with excitement. "I'm gonna revolutionize this place. People are gonna thank me. They're gonna line up for my soap and brush their teeth because of me."She could already see it—her shop with people flocking in, fresh bars of soap stacked high, jars of toothpaste neatly displayed. Nobles would pay top dollar for the fancy versions, and the common folk would finally stop stinking up the place.Her stomach growled loudly, cutting through her daydream, but she waved it off. "Forget food. I'm on a mission. Soap comes first."She slammed her hands on the table and stood up with renewed determination. "I can do this. I'm Ella Foster, soap maker extraordinaire!"Then, as if on cue, the smell of the bakery clinging to her clothes made her wrinkle her nose. "Seriously though," she muttered, pulling at her flour-covered apron. "I'm going to need some of that soap for myself first."Ella's house looked like the aftermath of an alchemist convention gone horribly wrong. Pots of mysterious goo bubbled on the stove, scraps of paper with scribbled notes were strewn across the table, and the smell—well, let's just say it was unique."Alright, soap. Let's start with the basics." Ella squinted at her notes, her fingers covered in a sticky concoction from her latest failed experiment. "Fat and lye. Sounds easy enough. Except... no way am I using animal fat. I draw the line at rendering poor Daisy into body wash." She frowned at the half-finished page in her hands.She paced around her small kitchen, muttering to herself. "What else can I use? Olive oil? Coconut oil? They had that in the 1800s, right? Who knew making soap would be this hard? Just pour some plant oil in a pot and mix it with... stuff. Easy."Determined to avoid animal cruelty and potential food poisoning from questionable experiments, she rummaged through her cupboards and pulled out whatever oils she could find, then trotted off to the market. As she wandered from stall to stall, she got more than a few raised eyebrows from the local merchants."I'll take two jars of olive oil... and some coconut oil, if you've got it," she asked the stall owner, who blinked at her like she'd just asked for unicorn hair."Coconut oil, miss? For what exactly?" the merchant asked, suspicious."Uh... just some light cooking," she lied. Because nothing says "normal" like buying weird amounts of random ingredients for 'cooking' at 8 a.m.She hurried home with her goods, already imagining the success of her soap empire. Back in her makeshift lab, she boiled wood ash for lye, because apparently that's what people did before modern chemistry existed. As she stirred the mixture, she gave herself a pep talk."This is basically a science experiment," she mumbled, staring at the bubbling concoction like it was about to explode at any moment. "Except, y'know, with the risk of melting my skin off if I mess up." She poked the pot with a wooden spoon, just in case it was considering betrayal.After what felt like forever, she finally had something that looked like soap. Well, sort of. It was goopy, smelled vaguely of olives, and left a greasy residue on her hands. But it was technically soap. "I mean, it's close enough, right?" she said to herself, wiping her hands on her apron and smearing more of the gunk on it."Okay, soap: check! Now onto toothpaste. This one should be easier." She dug into her mental archives for everything she remembered from history class. "Baking soda, salt, mint leaves... Simple."She mixed up a paste, grinding mint leaves with her mortar and pestle, feeling almost professional—until she tried the paste.Ella smeared the mixture onto her teeth and grimaced. "Minty fresh, my butt," she muttered, spitting it into a bowl. "This tastes like I just licked a salt lick in the middle of a garden."She frowned at the mess in front of her but didn't give up. After some tweaks and extra mint (a lot of mint), she had something that tasted tolerable—barely. "Good enough," she said with a sigh. "At least people won't run for the hills when they smile."Now, for the toothbrush. She sketched out a rough design on the back of a grocery receipt she'd found in her pocket. "Wood handle, bristles... I'm basically reinventing the wheel here." She scratched her head, thinking about how she could explain this to a carpenter without sounding completely insane."Hi, I need a tiny brush for people's mouths. No, I'm not crazy." She chuckled, holding up her sketch and nodding at her own brilliance. "Not bad. I'll just need to find a carpenter who doesn't call the authorities on me."The next three days turned into a blur of failures and near-successes. There was the soap that didn't harden, the toothpaste that tasted like salty pond water, and the toothbrush handle that snapped in half the moment she tried using it. At one point, Ella ended up covered head to toe in soapy goo, staring into the mirror like a mad scientist."Why. Won't. You. Work?!" she groaned, waving a half-melted bar of soap at the ceiling like it had personally offended her.But finally, after what felt like a week's worth of sleepless nights, it all came together. A bar of soap that wasn't greasy, toothpaste that actually left her mouth feeling clean, and a half-decent toothbrush prototype.Ella, now bleary-eyed and running on sheer willpower, held up her creations like they were the holy grail. "Ladies and gentlemen of the 1800s," she announced to her empty house, "I give you the future of personal hygiene!"She stood there for a moment, basking in her genius, before slumping onto her chair, barely able to keep her eyes open."I need a nap," she muttered, dropping her head onto the table. "But first... I really, really need a bath."Once Ella's brain stopped spinning from three days of no sleep and too much soap, she finally sat down at her tiny, cluttered desk, staring at the parchment in front of her. The key to survival in this medieval mess of a world was simple: money. And not just surviving—she was going to thrive. These people didn't know it yet, but they were about to become obsessed with hygiene, and she was going to make sure of it.She began scribbling furiously, mapping out her plan."Alright, focus. Soap first."She tapped her quill on the paper, then wrote:Soap:Target Price: Affordable enough for commoners, but fancy enough for nobles.Goal: Nobles think it's luxury. Commoners think it's a miracle they can afford.Ella smirked. "I'll price the fancy soap like it's made from unicorn tears or something, but the regular stuff? Cheap enough for the village folk to buy by the bar."She imagined the nobles hoarding her lavender-scented soaps like treasure while the commoners thanked her for their first non-stinky bath in years. "Perfect."Next, she tackled her next big seller.Toothpaste:Target Price: Low, daily necessity—people will have to buy this stuff often.Goal: Everyone has to brush their teeth. A minty revolution.Ella chuckled as she wrote, "Toothpaste in every mouth. No more gagging every time someone smiles. Thank you, me."She grinned at the thought of 19th-century villagers discovering minty fresh breath for the first time. The novelty alone would sell it. "Once people start using it, they won't go back to smelling like they've been gnawing on old shoes."Then came the big one—the product that would line her pockets with more gold, silver, and copper than she could count.Toothbrushes:Target Price: Wooden handles for the commoners—cheap, durable, but basic.Fancier handles for the nobles. Maybe add some intricate carvings for flair.Goal: Sell the toothbrushes to everyone, but the really nice ones? Upcharge those babies like they're made of gold.Ella leaned back in her chair, quill in hand, staring at her notes. "Toothbrushes," she said aloud. "That's where the money is." She could sell the basic ones for a handful of copper coins, but for the nobles? Silver, at least. Maybe even gold if she could figure out a way to make it look artisanal enough. Add a little polish, maybe a carved handle, and boom—instant luxury item.She snickered. "Nobles will fall over themselves to buy something they can wave around at their dinner parties. 'Oh, have you seen my bespoke toothbrush? It's from Ella's Innovations.'"Ella quickly sketched out some toothbrush designs on the back of an old receipt. "Wooden handles, sturdy bristles, maybe horsehair for the fancier ones?" She paused. "That's not animal cruelty, right? They can just... brush a horse." She shrugged and kept drawing.Once the essentials were done, her mind began to drift to expansion. Soap and toothpaste are just the beginning, she thought, tapping her quill on her chin. Once everyone's hooked on these, I can branch out. Maybe shampoo... razors? Even perfume! The possibilities were endless."Oh! And a subscription service!" She giggled at the thought of 19th-century villagers eagerly awaiting their monthly delivery of soap. "I'll call it—'Soap of the Month!' No, wait—'Hygiene for All.' Catchy."She scrawled it down, laughing to herself at the idea of sending out fancy bars of soap wrapped in ribbons, like some kind of medieval Amazon Prime. "Who would've thought I'd be the Jeff Bezos of the 1800s ?"The more she wrote, the more confident she felt. This was it. Her ticket to fame, fortune, and most importantly—cleanliness. She grinned at her plan, picturing villagers handing over their coppers, silver, and gold coins in exchange for something as simple as soap."Ella, you're a genius," she said, admiring her own handiwork. Then, with a determined nod, she stood up from the table and declared to her empty room, "Ladies and gentlemen of the past, prepare yourselves. You're about to get very, very clean."And with that, she marched out the door, business plan in hand, ready to take on the world—one bar of soap at a time.The next morning, armed with her sketch and a head full of confidence, Ella marched straight to the local carpenter's shop. The smell of freshly cut wood filled the air as she pushed open the door, revealing Mr. Wainwright, the town's gruff, no-nonsense carpenter. He looked up from his workbench, eyeing her suspiciously."Morning, Mr. Wainwright!" Ella chirped, far too chipper for someone about to pitch the wildest idea this poor man had ever heard.He grunted in response, wiping his hands on his apron. "What brings you here, girl? Need a new stool or something?""Not quite," Ella said with a grin. "I've got a revolutionary new product idea."Mr. Wainwright raised a thick, skeptical eyebrow. "A 'revolutionary' product, huh? Does it involve not getting paid again like last time someone brought me a 'revolutionary' idea?"Ella waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, this is different. You'll get paid and people will be lining up outside your door once they see what I'm making."The carpenter crossed his arms, unimpressed. "I'll believe it when I see it. So, what is it? Another fancy soap dish?"Ella shook her head, eyes gleaming. "Better. Toothbrushes."Mr. Wainwright blinked. "Tooth... what now?""Toothbrushes! For cleaning your teeth." Ella mimed brushing her teeth with an imaginary brush. "You know, so people don't smell like they've been chewing on rocks for the last decade."The carpenter stared at her like she'd just suggested everyone in town start brushing their trees. "A brush... for your teeth?" He scratched his chin. "People barely brush their hair around here, girl."Ella laughed. "That's exactly why this is genius! Nobody's doing it. But they will, trust me. Once people get a taste of minty fresh breath, they'll be hooked. It's the next big thing, Mr. Wainwright. Like... wagons, but for your mouth."Mr. Wainwright gave her a long look, clearly not buying into her enthusiasm just yet. "Wagons for your mouth, huh?""Yep! Here, take a look." Ella handed him the sketch she'd been working on. It was a rough drawing of a wooden-handled toothbrush, complete with bristles made from plant fibers. She'd even added a little flair to the handle, thinking the nobles would appreciate something 'fancy.'Mr. Wainwright squinted at the sketch for a moment, then tilted his head. "Huh... well, I'll be. This actually doesn't look half bad. Simple enough." He tapped the paper with a calloused finger. "Could probably whip up a few of these in no time."Ella's grin widened. "Great! And make sure they look nice—people love shiny things."The old man chuckled, finally warming up to the idea. "Shiny toothbrushes, eh? Alright, I'll see what I can do. How many are we talking here?""Let's start with a dozen for now. But trust me, once people start using them, you're going to have more orders than you can handle. This town will be the cleanest it's ever been—and you'll be swimming in silver and copper."Mr. Wainwright gave a low chuckle. "I like the sound of that. Alright, girl, we've got a deal. But don't go telling anyone I'm making toothbrushes. They'll think I've lost my marbles."Ella waved her hand. "Your secret's safe with me, Mr. Wainwright."They agreed on a price—fair, but Ella knew it was a bargain for what she was about to unleash on this unsuspecting town. As she left the shop, practically skipping with excitement, she couldn't help but imagine the look on everyone's faces when they saw what she'd created."Soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and a solid plan," Ella muttered to herself, grinning like a madwoman. "Now, all I need is a little luck, a lot of customers... and maybe a marketing plan. Or maybe I'll just shout about it in the middle of the street."Whatever it took, she was going to make this work. The future of personal hygiene was in her hands, and it was going to be glorious.Ella walked back to her house, feeling like she had just conquered the world. Well, a world. Specifically, the world of personal hygiene in a town that smelled like an armpit on a hot day. The sun was starting to set, and her mind buzzed with excitement. Toothbrushes are coming. People are going to brush their teeth, she thought triumphantly.Then her stomach growled, loudly."Great," she muttered, wincing as the empty pit in her belly made its presence known. "Genius inventor, zero survival skills. This is fine. Who needs food when you're revolutionizing hygiene, right?" She sighed, realizing she hadn't eaten since... well, since that sad excuse for breakfast. What was it? Half a piece of dry bread and an apple that was suspiciously wrinkled? Excellent choice, Ella.As she trudged along the street, the smell of fresh bread from Mrs. Cavanaugh's bakery hit her like a warm, floury slap to the face. Her stomach immediately growled louder, as if sensing the presence of carbs."Oh, come on," Ella groaned, stopping in her tracks. She seriously considered walking in and asking Mrs. Cavanaugh for a free sample. Maybe just a slice. Or even a crumb. Would that be too desperate?She imagined the scene in her head: 'Hi, Mrs. Cavanaugh, can I have some bread to go with my world-changing inventions? No? Cool, cool. Guess I'll just invent a way to survive without food.' She could practically hear Mrs. Cavanaugh's laugh, followed by something like, "Inventions don't pay for bread, girl."Ella rolled her eyes at herself and kept walking. No bread for the genius inventor today. The universe is clearly testing me. Gotta stay strong. Can't let bread defeat me.As she approached her tiny, cluttered house, the excitement from earlier started bubbling up again. Her hunger might be annoying, but the bigger picture was all she could think about. Soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes—they were all just the beginning. Who knew something as simple as cleaning products could change lives?She paused outside her door, a small grin spreading across her face as she thought, Who knew soap could be so powerful?------------A/N- hope you enjoyed it.what should she create next?