Sefgotea's Forgotten Monarchy
We sailed from far south to far north, searching for a place we did not yet know. We found it, in a mist-shrouded island towering high above us. The paths in the mountains seemed to be laid for us, and we climbed up past the huge trees, past wide waterfalls, through caves and tunnels where mushrooms and hot springs lay, to the top, where the ground was wide and flat, rising around us to form walls of rough rock. We built our homes there, in the shadow of an even higher peak, never needing to return to the ground below save to fish. We built our houses of stone and wood, sturdy enough to last forever, and our lives were content.
Finally, we dared climb the next peak, the column of stone above us that seemed to grow new plants daily, trees bent out from the rock and reaching up to the sky, moss and vines holding refuge for strange birds, sometimes even flowers growing from between rocks.
So we climbed. We climbed higher, till we found the ruins of a temple, worn stone columns carved with unknown script laying broken at our feet. We were not the first ones here, even if we didn't yet know we'd be the last. At the back sat a fountain, wide and smooth stones creating levels for clear cold water to fall from. Moss grew thick and blue where it leaked and spilled from ancient basins. Flowers twined up and down all surfaces.
We approached, and Buta drank first, curious and cocky as ever. The scrapes he acquired on our trek scabbed over and vanished, replaced with skin as if he'd never fell from the rocks he'd tried to wildly climb. From the water a woman stood, pale robes moving like ripples on a lake surface. Lilia. She asked for payment, a fair trade for what her fountain did. So we dug through our pockets, coming up with spare coins we had no more use for and some arrowheads. She accepted them, and we built a proper way up. We gave offerings to her, much like how our predecessors would. Smoked fish and ripe berries in return for water to heal our sick and injured. It was fair, we each benefited, and we were good to each other. --Unknown storyteller, most likely the first bookkeeper
Years after we began trading, we grew greedy. We believed we deserved the water, and the spirit mattered not. So we stopped paying tribute for the gift she gave. We ignored her requests, taking what we wanted. And finally, she had enough. She demanded payment. We refused, like foolish children. And she cursed us. Our home would sink below the waves. And without our home, we could never find rest. And it sunk. It sunk beneath the waves, and we left our home. Never to return.
The map we held we split, a final act of greed or an attempt to save others from our own heartbreak, even I don't remember. But it sank, and we split our map that showed the way home. And we scattered it. Just like we were scattered. --Firsthand account by the elder bookkeeper
History
From what we've found, they were a proud people who lived on one specific island. They say it was cursed to sink, though the eruptions of two volcanoes in that region occurred at the same time as what they describe. What most likely happened was the eruptions of those volcanoes causing earthquakes and tidal waves, which broke the island and submerged other parts of it. They insist, however, that on that island a guardian spirit protected a healing fountain, and after the Goteans broke a verbal contract with it, the spirit cursed the island to sink, and for the people to never find another permanent home. From what I can tell, many of them migrated into Syle, where they took command of their fleets. Others worked on ships from Gostary and still others simply wandered, which does lend some credence to the second part of this 'curse'. --dissertation from Silun Orda, student of Ibhaka University in Vaoleva
Type
Geopolitical, Kingdom
Demonym
Gotean
Government System
Tribalism
Power Structure
Semi-autonomous area
Economic System
Barter system
Location
Related Myths
Comments