The wind gets up; faintly carried within it is the smell of smoke. Not wood smoke but coal; 
puzzled, you hesitantly sniff the air, trying to pinpoint where it's coming from. A sudden 
gust fills your nose with smoke, making you sneeze.

From your vantage point you can hear the sound of metal on metal, both from the forge attached 
to the garrison and from the trainees down in the yard. You can also hear the haranguing from 
the corporal in charge of them, extolling the virtues of a strong high guard as well the lack 
of virtue of some of the trainees' mothers.

You decide to take a closer look at the trainees; walking down the outside staircase to the 
yard, you instinctively keep as quiet and stealthy as possible with an eye to seeing how alert 
the trainees are. Despite this the corporal spots you coming; he winks and continues the lesson. 
You can quickly tell which trainees are paying the right amount of attention; some continue 
fighting, totally focussed on their blades, while others stop and gawk. One or two note your 
existence but continue; you mentally mark them for extra training with an eye to moving them up 
the ranks.

You nod to the corporal. "Alright, you lot!" he bellows, "Officer present! Get in line for 
inspection! Attennnnnn-waitforit-shun!" There's a moment's confused milling about before the 
trainees settle down. "All yours, Lieutenant". You walk along the line, pointing out a sloppy 
salute here and a boot in need of polishing there, but on the whole you're satisfied with the 
newest Pathfinders.

You reach the end of the line and look back down the ranks, remembering what your first inspection 
by an officer was like. As you stand there making them sweat, a stray puff of wind blows the smoke 
from the forge in your face; you blink, cough, and see you're back with the patrol.