Dax sat on the scorching orange dirt of the expansive wasteland. The trench was deep but the sun at its peak, so there was no shelter, he felt like an ant under a magnifying glass ready to pop at any moment, he didn’t pop though. Sometimes in this heat he wished he would. Huddled next to him caked in the fine brown dust were men from all over the vast empire: Indians, Chinese, and Africans among others. Then there was Dax, half English and half Dutch. He had lived happily in Brittan until his mother had died. As his father was Dutch he was deemed as foreign, sometimes he thought it a shame his father wasn’t the British one, he would have been allowed to stay then; as nationality is decided by the homeland of your father. Shortly after the deportation his father had become very sick with TB and Dax only 17 found it hard to find any work. As his father’s illness progressed Dax grew more and more fearful of being alone, which only bolstered his sadness during in his father’s decline, and when he eventually did die in the summer of 1890.
He remembered feeling lost and scared in the labyrinth of streets in the tower city that was New Amsterdam, then later the cold nights in the damp, dark alleys of the old Amsterdam ruins below. He could still remember the first time he saw the poster, an English officer with an elaborate moustache holding an elegantly crafted sword forward as his men charged in behind him in crisp clean uniforms. They were slaughtering the Australian rebel soldiers, who seemed to be depicted less as soldiers, more as savages and brutes armed with clubs and bows. There was none of that grandiose romanticism here, the relentless and radical outback harrowed them, the Australians harrowed them and worst of all their own officers harrowed them. When he enlisted the recruiter made it sound more like a holiday saying things like: “I would be surprised if you do any fighting at all.” Though they had no shortage of supplies, they saw few as the British officers feasted well and usually took all the tobacco too.
The international brigade as it was called or the IB was terrible. Food more fit for the garbage than people, water that looked a similar colour when it went in to it did when it came out. Spiders and snakes seemed to have an affinity for the trench as well, every other day some poor sod died of a snake or spider bite. The officers seemed to take any chance to beat them, though Dax was never beaten as he as white and half British. He had however in his first day seen an Indian man beaten to a bloody pulp and left to die in the filth of the ground and screaming. The man could only open one eye, and blood was leaking from both as well as his mouth and ears, when Dax walked back later his open eye was completely dried and flaky, seeping yellow puss. He lasted about six hours before he finally died and by morning it was clear the dingoes had been at him His shirt was torn, his chest cavity hollowed out. Even the skin ripped from his face. Though no one dared touch him till an officer said it was okay, any man who did was resigned to the same fate. According to some of the longer serving soldiers they did this every time new troops arrived, as a power play. The man had done little more than utter a word while an officer was talking to deserve this.
Again he thought to himself no, this is nothing like the posters, just then he noticed a change in the light, he was shadowed. He looked up and looming over him Yorik, a tall eastern European man who had come in with the same group as him. He smiled at him, Yorik was a tall man with a muscular build and Dax thought any girl would find him attractive. His straight blonde hair was no more than an inch long and his blue eyes seemed to fit well with his nose which looked as if it made the shape of an exact right angle triangle. He smiled back and then spoke with a strong accent “Colonel May wants to see you”. Dax remembered Yorik had been assigned as one of the Colonels assistants, he imagined it was only so May could laugh at his accent, as Yorik’s English was poor. “What the bloody hell does he want to see me for?” Dax replied, his accent still surpassingly British as he had only been 18 months in Amsterdam. Yorik shrugged half-heartedly “You know he tells me nothing friend”.
“Well best not keep the cunt waiting, though I’m sure he’ll find something to pissed about regardless” Dax said jokingly as he hopped up from the sand bag and onto his feet. He could hear Yorik chuckle over the steady sound of gunfire, that old drone of war. The two men walked side by side through the narrow trench, and Dax adjusted his helmet so it was straight on his head. Yorik no longer wore his after he saw a poor Norwegian boy take a bullet right through his. “What do you recon May wants with you? Yorik said pacing down the trench. “It’s reckon Yorik, not recon, there’s more off a k sound in it. Also probably just called me up suck his cock, since no women will go near it”. A soldier they passed chuckled at the quip, but Yorik’s face was stern “You should not say such things my friend, you will get on the trouble” Yorik said, his tone more serious now. “In trouble Yorik, not on trouble, and if I’m being called up to see May I’m probably already in the shit. You’re his assistant, you ever see him call up anyone for a good reason?” Dax replied in a calm voice, not the kind off voice you’d expect one in his situation to use. Yorik puzzled for a moment “No” he said, “but there is first time for everything” He grinned viciously, and so did Dax. They tried to supress their grins as they approached the large tent where the officers discussed tactics. Dax had heard it used to be satin red, now it was a deep dirty brown, crisscrossed with sewn up bullet holes from raids by the Aussies. The tent was far enough back to be out of artillery range, the rebel artillery was very poor, anything substantial was too heavy to carry as they retreated into the outback.
Dax and Yorik approached the tent and saluted the lieutenant who stood outside, who in turn saluted back “Privates Van Denend, Stec”. “Sir, Colonel May has requested a meeting with Private Van Denend” for once Yoriks English didn’t fail him, and he was able to spit out a half decent sentence. “I’m well aware” the lieutenant responded “Van Denend, you can go in, but the Colonel has requested Private Stec wait out here with me. Dax pushed the drapes aside and enter the large tent, though the exterior was battered, inside the tent was marvellous, the satin still shone a strong red. Decorations looted from the homes of wealthy rebels encircled him: ornate pots, beautiful watercolour paintings and the biggest grandfather clock Dax had ever seen inlayed with gold and ebony. Straight in front of Dax, bellow the clock in a throne like chair was the General, with May sat to his right, and another officer to his left whom Dax had seen before, but did not know by name. Dax saluted, then addressed the General directly “I’m sorry sir, if I had known you were going to be here I’d have cleaned up”, he looked down at himself covered in the fine dust of the trenches, so much so that he looked an entirely different ethnicity. “Oh” the General said softly “Didn’t May tell you?” Dax looked to May, his twisted grin was there, staring right back at Dax. “I’m sure I told my errand boy to do it, don’t worry Private Van Denend, I’ll make sure he’s suitably punished for neglecting to inform you”. Dax knew Yorik wouldn’t forget something as important as this, May was just toying with him in that sick way he liked to. At the risk of a savage beating Dax could play too, Dax curved his mouth into a smile. “No I’m sorry I remember now, private Stec did specifically tell me the General would be here”.  Mays face reddened “Then this is an outrage, a blatant insult to the General, and dare I say the King himself”. As May went his face reddened farther, he was at the age where wrinkles were starting to appear and his brown hair was greying in parts. He has large ears which perturbed quite a distance from the side off his head, not helped by his short haircut. If they all stood up he’d be the shortest man in the room by far; easily the widest though. His wild accusations continued, by now he’d lost any real form of reason and was just hurling abuse at Dax, who was still smiling riley.
Then a voice cut through the wave of abuse, the voice wasn’t loud, nor angry, nor carrying any real emotion at all. All eyes turned to the General, he must have been about eighty, but he still held the presence of a proud strong man. He had long white hair tied back in a knot, his brown piercing eyes fixated on May, a scar ran across his fore head and another across his nose, half of one of ears looked like it had be bitten off. In the moment Dax felt a bite off fear, even though Mays accusations were ridiculous, he was right about one thing, Dax had overstepped himself. “Now, now I’m sure no one need to be punished, I don’t need to see pristine soldiers to err my view of what it’s like out there.” “But…” May began, but the General cut him off, with a much angrier voice this time “By god man when a master tells his dog to sit, it sits, it doesn’t question why!” May sunk into his chair. Dax didn’t really think the dog analogy was a good fit for this situation, but if it works it works, his guess was that the general said it a lot to curb insubordination so he had used it this time despite the fact May hadn’t been told to do anything. Dax revelled in his own suspected deduction for a moment, grinning wider. Yorik must be worried outside with all this shouting he thought.
The general turned back to Dax, toying with what appeared to be a solid gold eyeball on the table “You see what I have to deal with these days son, up jumped lord lings and sons of politicians who hope to achieve greatness in war by sitting on their asses smoking and drinking” He rolled the eye around on his desk some more. By this point Dax thought it impossible for Mays face to get any redder, while the man to the right looked calm a pond on a windless day. The General raised the golden eye in front of Dax “Do you know what this is boy?” he said, his voice calm once more. “A golden eye of some sort sir?” Dax said respectfully. “Haha spot on boy, spot on. I got in on my first campaign as general, back when we took Istanbul” there was a sparkle in the General’s eyes as he reminisced. “Ah, near 40 years ago now sir, alas it was before my time. I hear it was a splendid campaign though, it brought much glory to the empire” Dax interrupted, the General sighed and for a moment Dax thought he’d made a mistake. Instead off belting him as he had done to May the General simply smiled and said “Right you are there boy.” He turned to the man to his right, Dax still had no idea who it was “At least when this one interrupts he has something useful to say, May could learn a thing or two from him”. Dax’s assumption that May couldn’t get any redder had been wrong, and he was starting to look more like an over ripened tomato than a person. The general turned back to Dax and held up the golden eye, he could now see the pupil, which looked to be an imbedded jade stone. “Tore this out of the Byzantine king’s face when we stormed the castle, oh you should have seen the fucker scream, it was marvellous. They say if you look into you can see your future. Well then, go ahead boy, have a good look”. Dax stared into the singular eyeball, the pupil glistened, but he had no premonition. “I’m sorry sir, I see nothing” Dax sad with sincerity.
The man to the right finally butted in “If you’re done reminiscing with the boy General, I think it’s time we get down to business” his voice sombre. “Of course, I should have introduced you before, where are my manners, this is Brigadier General Nostro. He’s here to help with the operation for a few weeks, the king likes to keep tabs on me you see, make sure I’m not taking it easy on those rebels.” Nostro had long blonde hair and wore a simple red smoking jacket, his facial features were very feminine, all besides his piecing green eyes. “Private Van Denend for your outstanding service to the crown, you have been selected for a promotion to the rank of captain.” Nostro stood up and began to pace over to Dax, his dragon bone sword visible now at his side, dangling next to his corded trousers which led down to pitch black boots. “Furthermore you and your new squad will lead a raid on the rebel trenches at 0200 tomorrow morning to try and secure a foothold on the western end of the trench. Myself and General Samson will review the plans with you and only you later tonight, to make sure there is no leak of information to the rebels. Congratulations Captain”. Nostro took the last few steps towards him and pinned the Captains badge to Dax’s breast. May was audibly giggling, and Samson looked very stern, they were all waiting for Dax to say something. “Well fuck me!” Dax exclaimed with disbelief “What was the fatality rate of the last night raid? 70, 80 percent?”. “Ninety” Samson said solemnly “It was 90 percent”. “I see how it is, you need someone the men trust to lead them into the slaughter” Dax gestured to May “I mean you couldn’t send this fat pig, he’d have a knife in his back before he was over the top”. May’s redness began to return “Captain” General Samson said, raising his tone “This decision was not up to me, please contain yourself”. “Are you just going to let him get away with insulting my like that, this is an outrage!” May was furious, one off the veins in his forehead was so pronounced it looked like it might burst. The Brigadier General broke in “Actually he has quite a valid point, though the real reason we’re not sending him is because his brother very well in favour with the king, and if he dies we will be in rather a spot of bother” Nostro smiled as he said it, patting Dax on the shoulder. “I don’t have to stand for this!” May said, and began to storm out. “Oh and one last thing” Nostro said “Private Stec is released from your command” with the same calm voice he’d used the whole conversation. As he left May cursed and blinded “I won’t stand for this, the king will hear off your insolence…” At that point Dax snapped “Oh could you just shut up for once in your life you insufferable cunt….sir”. Then he swiftly pushed he way past Dax and Nostro and left. Now it was just Dax and the two highest ranking men on the battlefield in a room, also apparently the two nicest officers he’d ever met. Even though they were sending him to almost certain death…but at least they were nice about it he thought.
Nostro grinned to the General “well I’d say that went rather well”, Samson replied “honestly I’d seen it going much better, but that May is a touchy prick. Anyway Captain, you’re dismissed, be back in 5 hours for briefing”.  Dax saluted, turned and walked out of the tent along a fine silk rug. Yorik was waiting outside “How did it go, I heard a lot of shouting and when I tried to follow May he told me to fuck off” Yorik said puzzled. “All in all not bad, I got a promotion and you’re free of that son of a bitch May” Dax said, flashing his new captains badge, which he had just noticed still had some blood on from the last poor sod. “Looks like I’ll be calling you sir now, sir” Yorik said enthusiastically. “Aye but I doubt it’ll be for long”.