The Kingdom of Sertia
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For all posts before 20 November 2023, please refer to the Six Unions of Gadalland and Aspern.
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The Great Swale Path (extract 1)
this is a travel journal of an English-speaking man visiting modern-day Sertia, who walked the 300 mile Swale Path across the country.
Few would underestimate the cultural diversity of the European Union. Even fewer would underestimate our economic success or our championing of free trade and movement. The vast expanses of the EU make for a seemingly endless world of various opportunities. And, in various ways, these superlatives apply to every single nation on the European continent, if perhaps in different ways.
And only a few years ago, much to my surprise, my overwhelmingly (if not slightly biased) positive assessment of the European continent found its way to the Caribbean with the addition of the République de Nofoaga to the ranks of the EU. This was, in my opinion, and speaking for all EU travel writers, the best decision both the EU and Nofoaga ever made. The little island of Nofoaga is one to which I return very frequently, for in such small proximity endless beauty for all the senses awaits.
We've all certainly heard about the eruption of Mauga'afi in 2021, and the endless gloomy statistics around it: the deaths of hundreds and injuries of many, many more; and more than lives lost, millions of livelihoods and generational businesses crumbled before the eyes of their loving makers; monuments buried, possibly forever. It is events like these which are humbling to travel writers like myself, reminding me of the fragility of what is beautiful about our world, and the uniqueness of it in the span of what we have explored of the place beyond our Earth.
It is events such as these that many travel writers and media publicists attribute to underdeveloped nations. There is a pervasive narrative that nations who experience such large-scale disasters are doomed to forever be developing or poor. And if not actually developing or poor, then at least in the eyes of the people on the Continent who live a high-tech, high-speed and high-quality life.
However pervasive, this narrative is entirely baseless. In fact, Mauga'afi didn't dredge the Nofoagans deeper into their own mud. It brought out the true spirit of the Nofoagan people: neighbours housed neighbours, families helped families, chefs cooked for those who had no food, builders and humanitarian workers searched tirelessly for those who had gone missing. Buildings were rebuilt, and life went on.
Nofoaga had always been a country I loved to visit. But it was the events after Mauga'afi, and witnessing the kindness of the Nofoagan people, that really drew my attention to the Caribbean, a powerhouse in its own way.
It was in Nofoaga that I heard about the application of Sertia to join the EU for the first time. I was with my tour guide Rémy, who was equally as surprised as I was at this news. For many years the borders of Sertia had been completely shut to all citizens of the EU, the Sertians opting instead to manage their own empire of surrounding islands. The last ferry between Nofoaga and Sertia was in 1861, when the ferry redirected from Sertia to the West Olves.
I recovered a journal of a Nofoagan traveller to Sertia from April 1861, about a month before the last ferry departed for Nofoaga. They detailed their travels by rickety train across the country, the vast wind-swept marshy flats, castles in the distance and various wild birds captivating their imagination. Nofoaga certainly has its fair share of these things, but for such a close neighbour to describe their neighbouring country as so wholly different to their own amplified my Sertian intrigue to another level.
So for many years, myself and many Nofoagans would stare out the southern coast to the towering cliffs of the Sertian island, so close and yet so far away. Had I tried to swim there, I would have been eaten by a shark or eaten by the Sertians. For all we knew, there was nothing there!
When Gadalland and Aspern announced its first visa policy for EU citizens, I finished my online application and was approved within three days. I travelled via ferry into the city of Plariaras, a storied medieval city I recalled from reading News from Dróinstea, where Sarpara Manniach must travel to Plariaras whilst being pursued by her former lover and sworn enemy.
And me, naturally being a new-age Sarpara, also travelled to Plariaras where my Sertian adventure began.
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The Great Swale Path, Chapter 2
Approaching Sertia by ferry from Nofoaga is not necessarily a straightforward route. Between the two islands lie three active underwater volcanoes which must be avoided because they were in the process of forming their own island.
Luckily, however, this route means that the ferries must hug the Sertian coast for about two hours. This offered a lovely view of the Sertian island, which for many of us on the ferry was our first time seeing Sertia from this close.
I was able to finally see why I was going to walk the Great Swale Path, not the "Great Mountain Path", or even more preferably the "Great Path with Lots of Cheap and Delicious Restaurants".
To the North of the Sertian island lies a large, ancient marsh known as Tremaras. At one time, about 250,000 years ago, it is thought that Tremaras covered what made up most of the Sertian Empire. Now, due to dredging and building, Tremaras stretches from the capital of Hemberdale to the city of Plariaras, where it is briefly interrupted, then continues around the stretch of coast nearest the West Olves.
Tremaras is vast, and scant of anything naturally taller than a cattail. The villages within the marsh are elevated by stone or wood planks spare the areas where the boats are launched. Houses are built level with these long, surprisingly wide footpaths, in a circular fashion, many of them having roofs of terracotta or the like. Between the villages of Tremaras that we passed, there was nothing to be seen but wilderness and the sound of the sea.
Then, suddenly dominating our view from behind the planks of the village, were the old stone ruins of a Sertian castle. Candalyyth, I heard people murmur. It was a lonely, ominous figure. Hardly anything was left of its foundations except for a tall, thin watchtower partially submerged in the marsh. The highest window of the watchtower reflected no light from inside. A slight drip, drip, drip could be heard echoing from its depths.
Even after the castle faded from view, all of us on the ferry were left with an obligation to reflect on the times that have been lost to us. It's always a strange feeling, when you see something that you can't touch, but was once so significant. Unspoilt by our sight, Candalyyth sits in its glory, the master and the lady of the castle lying, perhaps, comfortably inside.
The marsh eventually receded and the outskirts of Plariaras began on the other side of a hill. Sertian homes are miniscule. Realising that they didn't have enough money to build regularly-sized homes for all of the residents of Plariaras, the Braetha decided that in order to give everyone the best quality homes, they would limit the size of publicly-funded houses to one room for every family. Thus, whilst the houses were of the quality you might see in a wealthier part of Europe, they were far too small for me to imagine anyone living inside of them. Some people had built conservatories or extra rooms on the side, but that appeared to be a privilege.
More and more buildings came into view as we approached the port of Plariaras. Yellow, green, and red painted stone buildings, and an absolute cacophony of noise greeted us.
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The Great Swale Path, Chapter 3 (part one)
I will here preclude a detailed testimony of the Plariaran culture, owing to one of my (many) personal weaknesses--namely, a love for poetic ends.
Fancying myself a modern-day Sarpara Manniach, from News from Droinstea, upon leaving the ferry terminal at Plariaras, I quickly headed for the train station. There was a 14:56 departure for Rowsperch, with a stop in Droinstea. It was 14:01.
I was able to figure out how to call a rail-horse carriage--known as Sertia HorseRail--with some difficulty. To indicate that you'd like the horse to stop and pick you up, you are urged by the signs on the HorseRail platform to step on a button. A mechanical system goes, and a barrier rises up in the middle of the railway, forcing the horse to stop for you. Luckily, when my coach stopped in front of me, the conductor seemed to catch the barrier before the horse did, else the horse buck and turn everyone out of the carriage.
I directed the conductor to take me to Hemberdale Ghoia station, south of the river. The conductor got out of the carriage to push down the horse barrier, boarded again, and immediately we were off to a flying start.
What little I saw of Hemberdale was in no massive way enlightening, but the mazes of colourful (albeit terrifyingly narrow!) alleys graced on all sides by rudmercaeta and business people created a brilliant audio-visual cityscape. At one point, I looked out the carriage window to my left to see a Peregrine Falcon flying next to us, holding an envelope in its talons. Before it ascended again, I swear it saw me through the carriage window.
Arriving at Ghoia station, I was as promptly kicked out of the carriage as I was invited on outside the ferry terminal. Just as well, because I had approximately 10 minutes to catch my train to Droinstea.
In Sertian cities, only those with tickets can enter the train station. Such it was that this created a real barrier for me to actually get into the station, as there was a congregation of people looking at the analogue departure and arrival boards. I found my train to Droinstea, departing on platform 6. Having purchased my tickets at the ferry terminal, I weaved my way through the dense crowd and went through the barriers and into the train station.
Immediately, I was struck by how empty, modern, clean, and so much unlike the outside of the station, that the interior was. Well-kempt people ambled through the station, in presumably no rush to reach their train or wherever it was they were going. Kind voices gave soothing messages through the loudspeakers, followed by equally soothing dings and clicks. I could hear the ambient whirring of the train engines.
3 minutes.
Good lord, I needed to get to my train.
I must say that I was expecting either an elegant, wholly old-fashioned train service, OR a brisk, cosmopolitan, modern one. But I can't say that Sertian trains, or at least this one, fit either of those categories.
Whilst the outside of the train looked familiar, the inside felt like a really odd social experiment. The seats in Standard Class were laid out in cushioned benches, embroidered with something reminiscent of my gran's jumper.
The windows were all sorts of really odd shapes like an art-nouveau exhibition. It certainly gave off an effect, but what effect it was I couldn't quite square. Looking up, there were benches nailed to the ceiling of the carriage, mirroring the ground. There was a sign on the wall, pointing up, that said:
"In case this train rolls off a cliff, no matter how you are oriented you ought to have a seat".
signed, Legalist Anarchicals
What an interesting normative statement. Not knowing how to react, I just sort of sat down and accepted that Sertia is freaking weird (I later learned that this was an art instalment, courtesy of Tourism Sertia. Normal carriages are not like this).
The train was surprisingly smooth-moving, and after a few stops we arrived promptly in Droinstea.
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Chapter 4, part 1: Droinstea, the hidden cornerstone of Sertian culture
Owing to its institutional status as a literary and cultural centre, however small, the town of Droinstea (pronounced thrin-stay) currently sees no shortage of wealthy residents and visitors. Indeed, it is one of the most expensive places to live in Sertia.
Leaving the front of the train station, the contrast with Plariaras was extreme. Instead of din, there was peace; where there was a slight grime in the air, there was now the smell of seawater. Small stone streets wove away from the station plaza. Wealthy residents walked their manicured dogs around the fountain in the centre of the plaza.
There is a protection order in place for all of the buildings in Droinstea. Landlords are not allowed to do any significant work that would damage the historicity of any buildings, and as a result there has been little real growth in terms of the size of the buildings or the town itself. However, this is one place in Sertia where you can really have a glimpse at the nation in its heyday--a paradise of the high society.
Droinstea has been inhabited on and off for at least 1500 years, though around the turn of the 7th century AD it was abandoned for an unknown reason. It was rehabilitated throughout the late 800s. According to the Alimrede (written alongside the Sertian Domex in 1224), this was due to the great wealth the town had inherited from finding primeval hordes of silver and gold.
In 940 AD, a Begreathum (today called "Braetha") named Lodith of Droinstea declared the town independent of the local Yttrevir queendom. This angered Queen Yttrevis, for the town was an important trade hub and supported the economy of the Queendom. Yttrevis was also planning to build a palace for her son there, so that it would become the new seat of power when she died.
In 941, Yttrevis sent her armies through Tremaras to wrangle Droinstea from Lodith's control. Lodith fled the city to the South and headed for the neighbouring kingdom of Prew, where he hoped to find refuge with his sister (who had married Prince Zabe, the heir). All this was unbeknownst to Yttrevis, whose army pillaged the town looking for Lodith. However, not very much damage was done from this as Yttrevis' army had been instructed not to disturb the villagers so she could gain favour in the town more easily. She successfully took control of Droinstea on August 4th, 941 and reincorporated the town as a part of Yttrevir.
The reincorporation didn't last long, however, for when Lodith reached the kingdom of Prew and told King Erawa what had happened, he saw the chance to establish influence in an important economic hub and expand his kingdom. He also saw Lodith as a weak leader and easy to take advantage of, having abandoned his city instead of staying and fighting for his people. If Erawa could take control of Droinstea and declare it a non-contiguous part of Prew, he'd then have a foot in the door to further diminish Yttrevis' power.
So it was decided. King Erawa was to take Droinstea. The day came on April the 20th, 943, when Erawa's army marched to the edge of Tremaras, awaiting reinforcements from Briswick in the south. Queen Yttrevis had an advantage in Tremaras, however. She was the "Queen of Tremaras", her army was sophisticated in warfare within these harsh conditions. Erawas had had no way to train his army in this environment, either, for Yttrevis had a hold of all of the marshland.
Erawas came up with a plan. Calling upon Lodis, Erawas sent him, along with a small group of soldiers, to burn down the newly built Prince's palace in Droinstea. It was considered one of the most architecturally sophisticated and beautiful buildings in Sertia, purportedly designed to be seen for many miles in all directions. It was a temple of wealth and represented the unequivocal influence of the Queen of Tremaras upon her people.
On the night of 1 May 943, Lodis and a few soldiers snuck into the palace and burnt it to the ground. Yttrevis' son, the Prince of Yttrevir, was inside and perished in the fire. Yttrevis lost all morale and surrendered Droinstea to Erawas' forces.
The loss of Droinstea palace is, to this day, considered a major tragedy. It was the tallest earthen structure at least in the western hemisphere, and pioneered the technology of Sertian water-proofing, a tradition that is still used in Sertian buildings today. Even more tragically, whilst there have been efforts and advocacy for its rebuilding, this project is embroiled in controversy. Advocates say it would demonstrate the genius of Sertian engineers, whilst detractors say it would be a symbol of dispute and partisanship that has been so relevant in Sertian politics through the ages.
The reason I mention the fountain in the plaza outside the train station is that if you dig underneath it, some say, you will find the ruins of Droinstea palace.
