Well, I guess you are right, but you know how our family is. We have been burned one too many times by tax collectors, so we documented everything. Once the government finally releases proper tax regulations, we should be covered, said Karl with a furious look on his face. Taxation was one of the few things capable of making even centuries-old families nervous, because governments had a habit of changing the rules halfway through the game and then demanding payment as if those rules had always existed.
"Well, you know how it is. Nothing is properly set up right now. The banks haven't even been reorganized yet. We still keep all our coins in our own safe," said Annemiek with an annoyed expression. The irony was not lost on her. Their family possessed enough wealth to purchase entire districts, yet at the moment much of it sat inside reinforced vaults beneath their estate because there simply was nowhere trustworthy enough to store it.
The practice was not born from paranoia but experience. Their family had witnessed too many financial collapses throughout history to blindly trust any institution. Even after electronic banking became universal and money mostly existed as numbers on screens, they continued maintaining emergency reserves. The tradition dated back centuries and had proven its worth during several crises, most notably during the Second World War when retrieving assets from distant institutions had become nearly impossible.
Of course, that did not mean they distrusted the bank they normally used. The banking family in question was one of the oldest great houses in Europe, second only to the Vassevilliers family in age and influence. Unlike many organizations that had expanded aggressively across the globe, they had remained focused on Europe. Their philosophy was simple: it was better to dominate territory you understood than to overextend into lands where others could suppress your influence.
That conservative attitude had served them remarkably well. While other financial giants rose and collapsed over the centuries, the old banking house endured. Their influence stretched into nearly every major European institution, though rarely in visible ways. Politicians came and went, corporations merged and dissolved, but somehow the bank always remained exactly where it had been.
Getting an account there was not as simple as walking through the front door. Businesses had to prove stability over many years before being considered. Profit alone was not enough. The bank preferred clients who demonstrated longevity, reliability, and the ability to survive hardship because those were the customers who remained for generations rather than years.
Ironically, governments themselves were judged by similar standards. Following several historical catastrophes, many European nations had relied heavily on funds stored through those old financial networks. During periods of reconstruction, the existence of those reserves often made the difference between recovery and collapse. Of course, such assistance generally depended on the territory being under EU control.
The bank's reputation was so strong that many corporations immediately transferred substantial portions of their savings there once they became eligible. New executives often complained about the strict requirements and waiting periods. Experienced executives, however, rarely argued. They understood that access to the bank opened doors to opportunities that ordinary institutions could never provide.
Age was treated almost like a currency there. The bank respected established history in ways that modern businesses often found strange. A family-owned bakery that had operated successfully for a hundred years might receive more attention than a massive corporation founded only a decade ago. To the old bankers, survival was the ultimate proof of competence.
That philosophy was one reason trade families such as the Sonnenbergs maintained accounts there. While they certainly stored traditional wealth, gold coins and precious metals represented only a small portion of their assets. Much of their real wealth came in the form of historical artifacts accumulated over centuries. These items often possessed value that could not easily be measured using conventional economic standards.
Ancient swords occupied entire sections of secured vaults. Noble seals, ceremonial armor, historical documents, and family heirlooms filled countless storage rooms. Some pieces were so old that historians argued endlessly about their origins. Others had well-documented histories stretching back hundreds of years.
There were even relics believed to be the bones of saints. Whether every claim was genuine hardly mattered anymore. The System valued cultural significance as much as authenticity, and those relics possessed enormous amounts of accumulated cultural energy. What humanity once viewed as museum pieces had suddenly become strategic assets.
The transformation surprised almost everyone. Before the Expansion, wealthy collectors mainly purchased antiques as status symbols. Now those same antiques possessed tangible power within the System. An object that had survived centuries of human belief and attention naturally accumulated cultural energy. Gaia apparently considered such objects extremely valuable.
The banking family's headquarters had benefited enormously from this change. Their estate had transformed into a mana vein after the system arrived on earth. As a result, the artifacts stored there remained protected from degradation. Many families breathed easier after learning that their historical treasures were resting in one of the safest locations on the continent.
Money itself had become strangely secondary for these ancient houses. They certainly invested and earned impressive returns, often outperforming elite financial institutions. Yet beyond a certain point, additional wealth simply lost meaning. Most of the great houses had crossed that threshold centuries ago.
Instead, they focused on preserving things that could not easily be replaced. Artifacts, historical records, relics, and cultural treasures became preferred stores of value. During wars, governments could seize currency. During economic crashes, markets could collapse. A sword carried by a famous ancestor, however, remained valuable regardless of political circumstances.
The System only reinforced that logic. Appraisers had already begun examining historical artifacts, and the results shocked everyone involved. Some ancient weapons reached epic rarity despite lacking any magical properties. Their value came entirely from the immense amount of cultural energy accumulated over generations.
It created a rather unfair situation. Ordinary citizens saw much of their wealth evaporate when old economic systems collapsed. Wealthy families, meanwhile, discovered that many of their collections had become even more valuable than before. Suddenly, those dusty relics displayed in private galleries were worth fortunes.
The discovery of countless archaeological sites during the cheap-energy era only amplified the trend. Humanity had spent decades scanning the planet with advanced sensors. Tombs, ruins, and hidden structures were uncovered in unprecedented numbers. Historical artifacts flooded museums and private collections across the world.
Some discoveries were so extraordinary that they reshaped historical understanding. Ancient burial sites thought lost forever were rediscovered. Entire forgotten settlements emerged from beneath deserts and forests. There were even claims that evidence supporting the existence of Atlantis had been uncovered, though debates about those findings continued endlessly.
Unfortunately, converting their newfound wealth into something practical presented challenges. Gaia allowed currency exchanges, but larger conversions came with fees. As a result, many people simply kept enormous quantities of silver coins. The weight alone became a logistical nightmare.
Moving substantial wealth now required wagons, guards, and careful planning. What had once been effortless digital transfers became physical transportation once again. Many people found the situation amusing until they actually had to carry several thousand silver coins themselves.
"Don't worry. They'll figure something out eventually," Karl said with a dangerous smile. "As for our vault being vulnerable, let someone try." The confidence in his voice was enough to make most people reconsider criminal ambitions. The last group foolish enough to target the family estate had vanished fifty years earlier.
Not even skeletons were recovered. Missing person posters had remained on display for years before authorities eventually declared the culprits dead. No one ever discovered exactly what happened to them. The family never commented, and nobody dared ask too many questions.
"You're probably right," Annemiek admitted. She glanced out the window toward the distant forest. "I wonder how soon the governments will begin working on infrastructure again."
Karl laughed softly. "Sooner than people think." His expression became serious as he considered the political situation. Millions of people sat inside cities with little meaningful work to occupy their time. That situation made governments deeply uncomfortable.
Idle populations were dangerous. History repeatedly demonstrated that unemployed citizens eventually found things to complain about. Once complaints spread, unrest usually followed. Every government on Earth knew that lesson.
"As soon as they solve the logistics problems, they'll start building roads and clearing wastelands," Karl said confidently. "They have to. Leaving people sitting around doing nothing is asking for trouble." His tone carried the certainty of someone who had watched governments repeat the same patterns for generations.
The reality was simple. Beyond the cities stretched enormous amounts of untamed land filled with resources waiting to be exploited. New roads would be needed. New settlements would need to be established. Farms, mines, and supply routes would eventually connect humanity to the wider world again.
The governments might frame it as reconstruction, development, or national renewal. The wording did not matter. Karl knew what would happen because there were only so many solutions available. When rulers had too many people and too much land, they always found ways to put the former to work on the latter.
Whether citizens would appreciate those plans was an entirely different question. But judging by the nervous expressions appearing on politicians' faces lately, Karl suspected the decision had already been made. The only thing left was figuring out how to present it to the public without causing panic.