I can't find any pre-Great War fics so I decided to make one.
Please note that the Atlesians in this fic speak German, and Vale speaks English. The Mistrali will speak a sort of Latinized Japanese; Japanese words with a Latin alphabet and English grammar. Vacuo doesn't exist yet, and its future territory is a dumpster fire with several official languages.
Markus awoke suddenly, startled by the sudden noise.
"SOLDATEN, GET UP! LOS, LOS, LOS!"
He rapidly rose as he heard his NCO. He stood at attention, waiting for orders as he scanned the area.
Markus was outside, at an abandoned village's farm the 4. Truppe had commandeered to serve as an outpost. He and his truppe of 52 men all stood at attention in front of the unpainted wooden barn. In front of them were four Feuerführer and Unterführer, two Oberführer, commanded by one Feldführer. He noticed that there was a man still leaning on the wall in a sleeping position, with about thirty flies on him. He had died during the night, likely due to food poisoning. It was a shame that only aristocrats had unlocked auras.
"Just another body we'll have to clean up," the Musketier thought to himself.
The rankers were wearing bright blue tunics, with steel-grey buttons. They wore white pantaloons, contrasting their dark bearskin caps. The NCOs wore the same uniform except for their silver cuffs and collars.
The thoughts of Markus were interrupted as his Feldführer spoke.
"Our messenger has returned with orders from headquarters. We are to continue our march southward through the Lalberien to join up with 3. Truppe. This is to prepare for an assault on the Raks. No time for questions or a meal as the campaign is already behind schedule. TRUPPE…"
He paused for about half a second, giving the squad enough time to prepare to follow a command.
"LEADER COLUMN!"
The Feldführer turned to the right as the truppe formed four columns about a foot behind him, each behind one Feuerführer or Unterführer. The lines were one soldier thick and 13 long, excluding their leaders, who were about five soldiers ahead of the Feldführer. The Feldführer had two Oberführer behind him.
"TRUPPE, MARCH!"
The men began to walk at a uniform pace into the cold, snowy wasteland as they sung a cadence. They dared not think of what was to come, for they knew they might not come back alive.
I know, it's short. It's my first fic, after all. I have a few chapters pre-made, next one's coming at 12 PM EST.