Berta
Berta was never what you might call pretty, and certainly not to her face unless you'd got a good start on her.  Not plain, by any means - takes after her mother in that regard, and Marya got all the attention she ever wanted.  But ...  she favours leathers over silk dresses and those red tresses of hers are rarely touched by either hair dresser or brush.  Got more muscle and bulk on her than  is considered proper for a woman too, least so her mother told her and told her - and in these parts if you see a man or a woman with a sword at her hip, you  damn well assume he or she knows how to use it and keep a civil tongue in your head if you know what's good for you.

Might easily mistake her for a boy, come to that, for she swears and swaggers  like one.  I'd keep that to myself if I were you, though - she's no killer, not like some we get around here, but she has a temper on her and more than one bravo deep in his cups has been sent sprawling and earned a few bruises into the bargain.

Normally wears good leather boots, leather breeches, belt and linen shirt, with leather gloves and a good thick woolen cloak with a hood, to keep the chill out, though all her gear has seen better days.

Dresses a bit different in her current circumstances, though.  Wears the Royal Syferan armour like she was born to it, if you please, polished brass leather and rings over red hose and halter, dressed up with a green cloak, as if that outfit needed more colour.

Leather boots plated with scrolled brass, and an ornate Corinthian style brass helm and those leather gloves with the brass knuckle dusters they call decorative fretwork.  A far cry from the nondescript and travel-worn leathers she used to favour ...