Hey guys if you would like to further support me , read my other work ''Transmigrated in another world as a magicless person''
It was a sunny day on June 23rd, 1267, and the French army was marching through the green valley of Tuscany, led by Count Jean de Braiselve. Their banners flew proudly in the wind as the sun shone down on the valley, casting a golden hue across the lush landscape. The scene was peaceful and serene, a welcome respite from the constant battles and strife the soldiers had been through in recent months. The men took this opportunity to rest their weary bodies and souls, taking in the beauty of the countryside and taking a moment to appreciate the simple pleasures of life, or at least they would do so if a battle was not near them.
