The scent of perfume fills your nose; you snort, trying to clear it. On the whole you prefer the normal 
smells of the arena, the dust and sweat. The young man with the offensive perfume exits, complaining 
about the trouncing he received. You sigh and wipe the sweat from your forehead. Chances are that one 
won't be joining the Guild after all, and in your opinion the Guild is well rid of him.

The next applicant steps up, a very different creature to the foppish young man. Lean and easy on the 
eyes, the young woman holds your gaze for a moment before nodding respectfully, an acknowledgement of 
your status. Her voice is low and melodic with a hint of an accent, "This one is ready to be tried, 
revered teacher."

You gesture to the rack of practice weapons. She chooses a pair of short swords, testing the balance 
and weight of several before making her final selection. Standing once more within the circle drawn 
in the dirt of the arena she shifts into a guard stance. You do the same, easy with the years of long 
practice, and nod to her.

She launches into her attack. You fend her off easily and start putting her through her paces. She's 
not bad; nothing special, but with promise. You smile to yourself and press her harder, finding her 
limits. In one particularly enthusiastic block you end up pressed close to her. You find to your 
amusement that despite her otherwise workmanlike clothing she still wears perfume, far subtler than 
that of the young man.

The scent becomes overpowering as a drop of sweat forces you to blink; between one moment and the next 
the woman and the arena vanishes, leaving you back with the patrol.