How Historically Accurate Is 'Mine Were Of Trouble'?

As the end of the year approached, I begged my father, the king, for three days and three nights before he finally agreed to let me travel to the frontier and reunite with my husband. But the moment I approached the military camp, the guards stopped me. When they found out I'd come to see Liam Foster, they burst out laughing. "Another girl who came all this way because she's got a crush on General Foster! You'd better turn back. General Foster is famously devoted to his wife. Aside from her, he wouldn't give any other woman a second look." I smiled faintly and was about to pull out my royal pendant to prove that I was the very "Mrs. Foster" they were talking about, when one of the guards pointed toward a woman not far away. "See her over there? That's our general's wife. Their love story has already spread all across the camp." I froze. By the time I came back to my senses, the woman had already walked over. She was wearing bright, elegant clothes—completely out of place in a military camp. With a gentle smile, she asked, "Miss, what business do you have with my husband? He had urgent matters to attend to and left earlier. It may be a while before he returns."

In 1612, he couldn’t save her. In 2026, he might not want to. Elias Thorne was a man of maps and measurements, the King’s most trusted surveyor, until the smoke of the Lancashire witch trials choked the life out of everything he loved. Catherine wasn’t a witch—she was just an innocent woman caught in the gears of a superstitious world. When Elias was turned into something monstrous that same year, he didn't see it as a curse; he saw it as a deadline. He had forever to find a way to bring her back. For four centuries, Elias moved through the shadows of history, building an empire of wealth and dark influence. He hunted every myth, funded every occult discovery, and bled for every lead—all to find a soul that refused to return. He grew bitter, his heart hardening into the very stone of the London streets he walked. He eventually gave up on the heavens and the hells, settling into a life of cold, immortal apathy. Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, he sees her. She’s standing in line for coffee, wearing headphones and a denim jacket, looking exactly like the woman he watched die under a grey Jacobean sky. She has no memory of the fire, the maps, or the man who has spent four hundred years hating the world for her sake. Now, Elias faces a choice: Walk away and let her live the peaceful life he once prayed for, or reclaim a love that doesn’t belong to him anymore. But Catherine has secrets of her own—and in the modern world, the ghosts of 1612 are finally starting to catch up.

Before heading off to war, Sebastian Crawford made a solemn blood vow on his honor—just to keep me from worrying while he was gone. He promised to come back and marry me with a grand ceremony, the whole nine yards. Eight years later, Sebastian returned as a general, draped in glory. But by his side was a woman—dressed like a man, her very pregnant belly sticking out like a sore thumb. I took a deep breath, calmly slipped off my engagement ring, and called the whole thing off. Sebastian scowled, clearly annoyed. "Lena bled with me on the battlefield. I've always seen her as a brother in arms. She's pregnant because she helped me take care of a physical need. It was simple and practical. No strings attached." I let out a bitter laugh. Then I sent a messenger pigeon. "Fine. Then I'll find someone to help me out too."

When my mother asked me who I wanted to marry, this time, I chose none of them. Instead, I decided to go to the Northwest and serve my country. In my previous life, both my childhood friend, once a captain, and my educated fiancé courted me. I had feelings for both. But while I was still struggling to decide who I wanted as my husband, both accidentally ingested something. In a dazed state, I spent a chaotic night. After that, my parents asked one of the men to marry me. On the wedding day, the first love in both their hearts, the woman they had always truly loved, found out the truth. Out of spite, she accepted a local thug’s proposal. After marrying him, she was forced to give birth to ten children, one after another, until she died tragically. After her death, both men grabbed me by the throat and asked, “Why did she have to die such a miserable death, while you’re still alive and well?” They strangled me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when my childhood friend and my fiancé had been drugged.

On the day I receive my Distinguished Service Medal, I also receive word that my grandma has passed away. My superior grants me special leave to return to my hometown to mourn her death, so I rush to my ancestral home at once. But when I reach the ancestral graveyard behind the hill, I witness something that makes my blood boil. The graves of my deceased family members have been razed to the ground. Even my parents' graves have been brutally dug up. Their urns are now placed under flower pots filled with blooming red roses. Grandma's coffin has been pried open as well.Her body now lies strewn on the ground and has started to rot. I also see Lucy Stewart, my autistic younger sister. Melissa Abbott, my wife's assistant, orders Lucy around like a maid, forcing her to move heavy construction materials around. Enraged, I grab Melissa by the throat and throw her to the ground. "How dare you destroy my family's ancestral cemetery and make my sister do hard labor! Do you want to end up buried here too?" Melissa coughs up blood before crawling back onto her feet, her expression vicious and scornful. "I'm simply carrying out Ms. Fuller's instructions. She says that your ancestral cemetery is located in a good spot. It's also the perfect size to be turned into a private horse ranch and a garden for her future husband. "Ms. Fuller calls the shots here in Joverton City. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?" Resisting the urge to put an end to her life, I call up Eva Fuller, my wife. "I heard you call the shots here in Joverton City. Well, I shall put that to the test today!"

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."