September 4th, 1870.

You are currently fighting in a stronghold against the endless waves of Zulu warriors. Each day, around two to three men are killed. Our numbers were lowering by a tiny fraction, and each wave only gets bigger, and weakening our defenses.

Beatrix: "C'MON' LADS! Formation! Fire at everything you got! We will prevail and survive this treacherous desert! Rule Britannia!"

Beatrix... no one could take her eyes off her.