General Thomas Vance walked down the front rank with his hands clasped behind his back.

He stopped two feet in front of me, his wire-rimmed glasses catching the harsh midday light.

“Your uniform preparation is flawless, Captain Mitchell,” General Vance said, his voice low and commanding.

“Thank you, General,” I said, holding my posture rigid.

He took off his wire-rimmed glasses and pulled a small square of white silk from his tunic pocket to polish the lenses.

“I glanced at section four of the main bleachers during my preliminary walk.”