Just imagine… A pleasant, chilly, early morning on the outskirts of Belgrade. Sun rays are peeping out behind the low residential buildings across the road, and breaking through the clouds dust that rises from the ground, just to rest on the face of the young lieutenant of the Royal Guard. He takes out his fire steel and the flint, lits his rolled cigarette and prepares for the muster. The neighing and snorting, the clip-clopping of horses and the banter of youngsters wearing their perfectly ironed uniforms echo between the low barracks and stables. The horse-car tumult and the giggling of the young dames…