Chapter 1 - The Thumping to War

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20th June – SummerOutskirts of France

The gentle warm breeze blew straight and high up the pavilion. I never knew, that it would be a whole set of sixteen years until I would be able to feel these breeze against my cheeks.

“Lady Ersa,” a hollow voice called, deep and rough, trying to pull me from my thoughts.

It had been only a few days since Charles the Good seized control of the Duchy of Burgundy after his father’s unformatted death. He hadn’t even waited until morning after his ascension to declare war on France, just as everyone had predicted.

True to his dramatic Burgundian flair, he showed no hesitation in sending hired soldiers straight to the front lines. For now, the future of France—and perhaps Europe—rested on him.

“Ersa de Clemont!” the voice snapped again, sharper this time, jolting me fully awake. My vision swam for a moment, my head still groggy from sleep.

“This isn’t your bed,” the man growled, clearly irritated and annoyed. “The Baron’s pampered daughter shouldn’t be dozing off here, at least not on the battlefield.”

“Sorry, Bruce,” I muttered, my voice low as I tried to sound contrite. “I’m just... not used to this.”

He sighed, shaking his head as his piercing blue eyes settled on me. “And you shouldn’t be,” he said firmly, his gaze narrowing as he scanned my disheveled form.

Bruce had always been like that—blunt and unforgiving.
He was in my life for as long as I could remember.
A Towering at six feet tall, with a solid, muscular build and sharp, blonde dreadlocks framing a scarred face; His crystal-clear eyes cut through people, sometimes even mine. ‘If this was what meant to be a man, then I doubt anyone in the country would be able to beat him’

“Give me a minute,” I said quickly, brushing back my hair and sitting up straighter, all just to look a little bit more pleasant.

Bruce folded his arms and leaned against the tent outside, closing the leathery flap with a loud ‘Thump’ his scarred lips curving into a faint smirk.
“Make it quick. Today is going to be one hell of a day; The Scout stopped a few hundred hired men about 10 miles heading towards our camp.”

I didn’t hear what he said

For now, the only think that I cared was to look presentable, more presentable than anyone at camp.

I reached for the bodice first, feeling the sturdy leather panels against my torso. I began fastening the clasps down the front, one by one, pulling each tight until the bodice hugged my torso firmly. I adjusted the high collar, straightening it so it framed my neck just right. 
Next, I took the skirt stepping into it, pulling it up to my waist and fastening the small silver clasp. My fingers found the small black ribbon resting nearby. Teeing it carefully around my neck. With a final tug on my gloves, I squared my shoulders, taking a deep breath, turning with a glaring smile.

My mother used to say, ‘Whether it's a battlefield or a princess's ball, a girl should always pay more attention to her attire than to her suitor’s antics.’

I walked out of the tent, biting morning air stinging my cheek. The camp was already alive-muttering soldiers, sharpening blades, adjusted their armor, piling arrows and braiding ropes.

At first, a few glances rose above to me, but soon, one head turned after the other. They wanted to look at me. No, it wasn't me. But rather Bruce, The Unshaken.

Bruce stood tall some paces ahead of me. His presence was always commanding, ahead of me his shadow casting a glow of undertone of my face.

The soldiers' muttering ceased as I reached him. Some curious, others respectful, while some skepticism. It mattered little. Bruce's blue eyes fastened on mine, "They're looking to you now," he said under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. "You're not just another noblewoman out here but rather just an innocent girl who hasn’t seen the light of a war,
let your Blessing of Waeoth shine through and guide us to victory"

I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to glance down or shift nervously under the soldiers' watchful eyes. I straightened my shoulders instead and took a deep breath of the cold, sharp air to steady me. "And you?" I asked, my voice low.

Bruce's lips curled into the faintest of smirks.
"I'm their commander. You are the Signaler and the Tactician, something more.”

“Hear this!" cut Bruce's voice like heavy sword hit.
“Lady Ersa de Clemont stands with us. She is our Tactician and our Signaler. She holds power and is Blessed with the Blessing of the Great Angle Waeoth. Yet, above all else, we march not for glory or gain, but for the honor of our sovereign—King Charles VII!”

The soldiers erupted into cheers, their voices a mix thumping and clearing. Suddenly the war drum played "Dum-dum-da-dum! Dum-dum-da-dum!" Flags rose and cheers erupted of howling raging screams.

I felt the sound vibrate deep in my chest, much stronger than the cold biting at my skin.

Bruce leaned towards me, his voice dropping back into that familiar, gruff tone. "You've got their attention, Ersa. Now hold it."

Writer's Note :  I have tried my best to make the next few chapters Historically fit in the same time period..... Also, I have my big big exams coming up.... So, I may upload rather unevenly. 

Character Trivia - 

Ersa, loves playing Dress up and regards herself as the pioneer of dress and clothing. And hence she loves to express herself whenever she dresses up.