Mar 1st, 2029
Magnus St. Sere's footsteps resounded across the soot-stained stones, laboriously arranged and catalogued by the toiling hands of countless workers on the once tranquil island of Langeland. He meandered amidst the skeletal remains of what would be a glorious homage to his ancestors—a castle reborn, echoing boldness from a bygone Viking kingdom.
The St. Sere lineage, cloaked in ancestral lore and the mysteries of the past, was said to have sprouted from the hardy stock of a Viking warlord, whispered down the ages as a grandson of Cnut the Great. Once wandering warriors who took what they desired, his forebears had long ago shed their marauder's image to become enmeshed in the tapestry of Danish nobility, having earned—or so it was told—the title of Count through feats of valor or shrewd negotiation. Details of the title's origin had faded into the fog of legend, yet whether they had bought, stolen, or merely claimed it, the title had stuck.
For generations, the St. Sere stronghold had stood firm in the town of Hellum, a modest settlement that grew from the needs of the estate. But Magnus, driven by an insatiable ambition that matched his Viking precursors, sought to revive his family's history with more than mere stories. He yearned to fortify it against time's obliterating march.
The limited individuals who were aware that the impending chaos would disrupt their familiar world took measures to safeguard their fortunes and relocate to safer areas, leaving behind their past. However, Magnus, for the most part, was inseparable from his past. In the year leading up to the great collapse, he had diligently converted his wealth into vital resources, commodities and solid currencies, all the while strengthening the interconnections with his influential circle of friends shift his tone from treating them as tolerated necessity to respected resource.
With the assistance of numerous employees and the coordinated efforts of his wife, Helena, Magnus managed to acquire 24 square kilometers of the island of Langeland while currency still held value, narrowly preceding the collapse by less than a month. Subsequently, the team was assigned the daunting task of procuring the remaining 260 square kilometers, utilizing any available resources at their disposal. A significant portion of this acquisition involved bartering food and work in exchange for certain portions of the land.
Immediately following the collapse, Magnus recruited individuals by enticing them with promises of hot meals, tents, and a place to stay, charging them with the responsibility of clearing the land from trees and scrub. He also provided a bonus to the workers for capturing and injuring any trespassers.
As Magnus acquired farmland, he embarked on a new venture of cultivating crops, offering meals and security as incentives. With the expansion of food production, the resources required to sustain the island gradually became self-sufficient. Magnus had at his disposal an extensive network of land, farmers, land clearers who played a dual role in ensuring security, professional security personnel, a diverse team of skilled cooks, and an efficient distribution network. All those involved were content with having meaningful tasks, access to sustenance, and a secure place to rest.
Thus, the very essence of the ancient edifice, borne upon the shoulders of man and machine, made its journey across the waves to rise once more. Each stone, weathered by centuries, would find new purpose, girdled now with modern marvels of technology—a testament to continuity and change.
With the land around the castle cleared and more than half of the island legally under his ownership, Magnus embarked on the formidable task of relocating his castle—brick by brick, stone by stone, down to the very last wood chip. Just beyond the eastern edge of Tullebølle, amidst rich farmland to the north and south, the castle was methodically reconstructed. In conjunction with this effort, he secured a sovereignty annex from Denmark, establishing the island as a sub-country.
In exchange for this unprecedented largess, Magnus made a solemn promise to construct fighter jets and provide training for pilots to safeguard the borders of Denmark against any potential attackers. Interestingly, this commitment was not as burdensome as it initially seemed, given that Magnus was effectively acquiring the land in exchange for fulfilling a necessary defense obligation. It was precisely this type of negotiation that he relished—a win-win situation that aligned with his strategic mindset. Moreover, essentially gaining control over Denmark's military represented a unique form of power that could not simply be bought.
Langeland now his sovereignty, Magnus initiated property taxation on those who had not yet sold their land to him. He demarcated his borders by scorching lines of land around their properties, ensuring that they did not encroach upon his territory.
His renowned precise estimates, known worldwide for their accuracy, projected that it would take three months to rebuild the castle to its former glory, and an additional year to construct advanced fortifications around it, complete with high-tech materials and anti-aircraft guns. Upon completion of these tasks, the residents were informed that the bridges connecting the island to the mainland would be intentionally destroyed. Consequently, the remaining native inhabitants, who had persisted on the island, swiftly embarked on preparations for their impending exodus. Recognizing the worth of goodwill and desiring to mitigate any lingering animosity, Helena, who possessed a more compassionate nature compared to Magnus, ensured that they were generously compensated for their displacement.
Though records of royal lineage did not grace the pages of history books, nothing could dislodge the St. Sere claim. The beliefs, as enduring as the Gothic spires of the colossal keep, were as firm as the earth upon which it stood.
From the Viking Age's twilight to Langeland's days, the castle's migration mirrored life's eternal dance. And Magnus—Count of an estate not just transplanted but transformed—stood as the architect of this dance, a thread spun from both past and present, defiant against the tide.
It mattered little to him if the link to Cnut the Great would be proven by the mundane means of genealogists. The essence of his ancestry lived within him, carved upon the ramparts, whispered by the winds across the lake, and etched into the name that had carried his family from Viking shores to the Counts of the present. The past breathed life into his grand endeavor, a legacy fortified, a history honored, and a future brightly shining upon the storied isle of Langeland.
While he retained the original name of the island for his newly established country, Magnus decided to rename his castle as Fæstning Hel. The exact reasoning behind this choice remained ambiguous, as it could have been a tribute to his wife Helena, a nod to the original Hellum, or even a reference to the potential torment that would befall any daring attacker. Given Magnus's intellect, it was highly likely that the triumvirate of meanings was a large part of its appeal to him.
The Præfekturet Langeland under Danmark, officially recognized on March 1st, 2029, had an initial population of 3,567, as determined by the employee roster plus dependents. The majority of the globe referred to this territory as Langeland or Perfectland, acknowledging its existence and unique characteristics.
Magnus, now 23, had modeled his rule of government after the Danish system but made few modifications to suit his vision. While retaining the title of Count, he removed certain protections and implemented a stringent procedure to address grievances within his domain. Additionally, he introduced an article granting himself and his family legal immunity, effectively placing them above the law.
In a bid to create a unique and tangible currency, Magnus introduced the Hellum. Each Hellum (1Ħ) held a value equivalent to one square millimeter of the carefully demarcated and squared off 12 square kilometers of lush wooded land to the north. By linking the currency directly to this finite resource, Magnus ensured that the Hellum became one of the few currencies in the world actually backed by something tangible.
The reserve in question contains 12 trillion Hellums. This significant amount serves as a foundation for the currency's stability and strength. One unique aspect of Hellums is their direct link to the designated land, where each Hellum represents one square millimeter of the territory. This distinct characteristic strengthens the value of the currency and provides it with inherent backing.
Due to the limited supply of designated land, the overall supply of Hellums will remain fixed unless someone accumulates enough currency to acquire a sufficient plot of land within the territory. Consequently, the potential to shrink the available supply exists as individuals accumulate Hellums and begin to construct structures on their acquired land.
This aspect contributes to the resilience and recession-proof nature of the currency, as its value is rooted in a tangible and finite resource. The supply of Hellums is bolstered by the limited availability of land, creating a unique and potentially valuable form of exchange within the sovereign domain of Langeland.
To expedite the development of the local economy, the Count of the Præfekturet Langeland under Danmark implemented a 1 Hellum per dwelling tax annually. Regardless of the type of residence, be it a castle, house, tent, or even a simple wooden structure providing shelter for any portion of the year, the inhabitants were required to contribute to the treasury with one Hellum.
This taxation system aimed to incentivize the population to engage in secondary trades and develop complementary skills to generate additional income. By encouraging the pursuit of alternative professions, the Count hoped to foster a diverse and self-sufficient community, promoting economic growth and prosperity within the Præfekturet Langeland.
In contrast to many other regions, Perfectland boasted modern amenities such as running water, full electricity, and even cell service, ensuring a comfortable and connected lifestyle for its inhabitants. While the region lacked internet access, Magnus, the ruling Count, was actively working towards rectifying this lapse. To overcome this challenge of units and minting coins, Hellum was electronic currency. This new currency ran on cellphones, which Magnus acquired for virtually nothing while traveling in regions with no energy. A room in his castle was devoted to these devices. Each citizen received two free cellphones, cellular, and intranet services as part of a perk of membership.
Citizenship in Perfectland came with a unique arrangement. In exchange for the benefits and privileges of being a citizen, individuals were required to dedicate 25 days per year to working for the country. This system fostered a sense of collective responsibility and collaboration, as citizens from various backgrounds contributed their skills and efforts for the betterment of the nation.
Magnus envisioned the restoration of internet connectivity as a significant step towards further enhancing the quality of life and enabling global communication and connectivity within Perfectland. By actively pursuing this objective, he aimed to ensure that his realm remained a modern and vibrant society.
To attract and encourage the emigration of quantum scientists and professionals from related fields, Magnus utilized his connections, including a small information backbone established between a few other stable regions across the globe. Recognizing the immense potential of these cutting-edge disciplines, Magnus quietly courted individuals working in similar domains.
By the year 2033, the population of Perfectland had grown exponentially, surpassing 4,000 inhabitants. The influx of highly skilled individuals led to a remarkable surge in scientific and technological advancements within the territory. As Perfectland's reputation as a hub for quantum research and related fields spread, more and more individuals sought to join the community.
Perfectland offered a compelling allure, promising safety, security, and a comfortable environment — a haven where individuals could once again ply their trades and pursue their professional passions. This powerful draw captivated the attention of talents near and far, enticed by the opportunity to rebuild their careers and experience a renewed sense of fulfillment. The count's vision of establishing Perfectland as a sanctuary for professional growth and personal well-being was coming to fruition, as more and more individuals sought refuge within its borders.
On Christmas Day, 2033, as planned, the decision was made to demolish the Langeland Bridge—the only physical connection to the outside world. This strategic move effectively limited access to the country, making entry possible by boat or jet only. Sentries dissuaded any crafts from landing on the Swedish side, and the two main ferry docks were disabled. This move severed any immigration from Sweden, which was embroiled in a bloody civil war, a development that pleased Denmark. Furthermore, it was publicly announced that entry into the country was now by invitation only. While individuals with special skills were allowed to submit written applications, the chances of acceptance were slim due to the rigorous selection process. These restrictions further solidified Perfectland's reputation as an exclusive and secluded sanctuary, accessible only to those select few who met the strict criteria established by the governing authorities.
To foster a sense of inclusivity and encourage citizen participation, Countess Helena established a dedicated webpage on Perfectland's intranet. This unique platform featured a self-tabulating wish list where each citizen was invited to submit a single wish they had for the improvement of the community. The list would then automatically prioritize wishes with higher quantities of similar requests, ensuring that the most desired initiatives floated to the top.
This innovative initiative proved to be immensely popular among the population, garnering widespread support and participation. Citizens felt empowered by the opportunity to have their voices heard, and the transparent and fair nature of the wish list process uplifted morale significantly. Countess Helena, with her genuine belief in the power of collective action and community engagement, earned the endearing nickname of "Countess Sincere" among the residents, combining a clever play on her last name with the perception that she wholeheartedly embraced and advocated for the wishes of the people.
Perfectland experienced a newfound unity and sense of purpose, with the citizens actively collaborating and working towards fulfilling the shared aspirations of the community. This innovative approach to governance further solidified the countess' reputation as a compassionate leader committed to the well-being and prosperity of Perfectland and its inhabitants.