Inside the Sonnenbergs' meeting room, the elder council had gathered for its monthly meeting. These elders were the people responsible for steering both the family and its guild through the changing world. At first glance, the room appeared plain and practical, much like the family itself. However, anyone who looked closely would quickly realize that wealth was hidden throughout every corner of the chamber. Nothing was flashy, but nearly everything carried history, value, or significance.
The family had recently begun rebuilding the villa after the Expansion. Their previous structures had relied heavily on modern manufacturing techniques such as 3D printing, but those materials were proving vulnerable to mana erosion. As a result, they had decided to rebuild using traditional methods and human craftsmanship. The reception wing was the first section to be completed. Since it served as the public face of both the family and the guild, it had received special attention.
Guests visiting the Sonnenbergs would never enter through the family's private areas. Instead, they would arrive through a separate entrance connected directly to the reception complex. This arrangement ensured privacy while still allowing the family to conduct business professionally. The reception wing was entirely isolated from the rest of the villa. It gave visitors a carefully controlled glimpse into the family's world.
The entrance itself was designed to be imposing without appearing excessive. A ceiling nearly four meters high stretched overhead, creating a sense of grandeur from the moment someone stepped inside. Carefully carved wooden beams supported the structure, displaying craftsmanship that was becoming increasingly rare. Every detail had been selected to communicate stability and permanence. The message was simple: the Sonnenbergs were not a temporary faction.
Along the main pathway stood a series of large pillars. Before the Expansion, family security would notify people whenever guests approached the villa through the forest. At that time, visitors were stopped roughly two kilometers from the estate because the family disliked outsiders wandering too deeply into their territory. Now, however, the forest had expanded dramatically, making those distances much larger. The pillars had taken on an additional symbolic purpose.
Each pillar was adorned with the coat of arms of a noble house captured in battle by Sonnenberg ancestors. Some visitors admired the craftsmanship while others focused on the heraldry itself. To historians, however, the collection revealed something much more significant. None of the displayed coats of arms belonged to minor nobles. Every single one came from houses ranked at least as high as marquis.
One of the most famous examples involved Napoleon's regime. According to family records, Sonnenberg ancestors had been among the first forces to corner Napoleon and prevent his escape with his personal guard. Their participation only became possible after reaching an agreement with several powerful European houses. Those houses had grown increasingly concerned by Napoleon's influence and popularity. His growing power threatened established interests throughout the continent.
At the base of every pillar rested a small plaque. These plaques told short stories explaining how each noble house had been defeated or captured. Visitors who took the time to read them received an informal history lesson. Most found themselves lingering far longer than expected. The stories transformed what could have been simple decorations into demonstrations of family legacy.
The walls themselves held another collection of treasures. Swords, shields, and banners lined the corridors leading toward the reception desk. Many were partially hidden behind the pillars, revealing themselves gradually as visitors walked deeper into the building. These were not replicas or decorative pieces. They were genuine artifacts taken from defeated nobles throughout centuries of conflict.
The value of these items had risen dramatically since the arrival of the System. Humanity had discovered that concepts once thought impossible, such as immortality and magical advancement, were now at least theoretically attainable. Because of this, history itself had become a valuable resource. Ancient artifacts no longer represented only cultural significance. They had become symbols of legitimacy and power.
Many people believed that Earth would continue expanding as long as humanity survived its Trials. New factions, powerful organizations, and perhaps even entirely new civilizations would eventually emerge. As a result, people began asking an important question. How would future generations distinguish between ancient powers and newly established groups? The answer many arrived at was surprisingly simple.
History became a form of status. The older a faction was, the more respect it received. Longevity demonstrated that an organization had survived countless challenges before the arrival of the System. It suggested stability, resources, and institutional knowledge. Whether that assumption was always correct mattered less than the fact that people believed it.
Interestingly, this trend began in an unexpected place. The idea first appeared on a relatively obscure blog hidden in the darker corners of the internet. At first, few people paid attention to it. However, an Argentine television program searching for interesting content eventually discovered the discussion. What happened afterward surprised everyone.
The show's hosts dedicated an entire segment to discussing how history might shape the future after the Trials. They argued that pre-System organizations possessed advantages that newer groups could never easily replicate. Their discussion resonated strongly with viewers. Within weeks, clips from the broadcast had spread across social media. The concept quickly entered mainstream public discourse.
Once the idea gained popularity, factions everywhere began adapting. Suddenly, displaying historical legitimacy became extremely important. Organizations rushed to acquire artifacts, antiques, and relics that could support claims about their heritage. Some groups went so far as to fabricate elaborate stories around ordinary objects. Reputation had become a valuable commodity.
The oldest factions responded very differently. Rather than loudly proclaiming their achievements, they quietly opened old vaults and storage rooms. Genuine relics that had remained hidden for generations were carefully cleaned and displayed. They did not need to invent stories because their histories were already documented. Their confidence often made a stronger impression than any advertisement ever could.
For the Sonnenbergs, displaying artifacts served multiple purposes. Obviously, it demonstrated the family's long history and achievements. However, it also acted as a subtle test for visitors. Observing which artifacts attracted attention often revealed how knowledgeable a guest truly was. That information could be surprisingly valuable during negotiations.
If someone recognized a famous sword or historical banner, it indicated familiarity with European history. If they completely ignored everything on display, the family learned something different. Neither outcome automatically determined how business would proceed. However, it influenced the assumptions made by the elders. Knowledge and awareness mattered in their circles.
Of course, these expectations varied depending on where visitors came from. The Sonnenbergs did not expect someone from China to recognize every European noble family. Likewise, they knew very little about countless regional conflicts that had occurred elsewhere in the world. Such expectations would have been unreasonable. Context always mattered.
Europeans, however, were judged differently. If a European visitor failed to recognize major historical artifacts, many old families viewed it as a sign of poor education. As a result, the previous six months had seen a surge of interest in history. People spent countless hours studying battles, famous artworks, jewelry, and noble lineages. Much of it was motivated by social pressure rather than genuine curiosity.
The oldest houses remained especially selective regarding what they displayed. Artifacts associated with barons or minor merchants rarely appeared in public areas. Those items certainly existed within family collections, but they were considered insufficiently prestigious. Instead, reception halls featured objects linked to famous nobles and major historical figures. Anything less was quietly stored away.
The lesser artifacts still held enormous value. They remained useful financial assets that could be sold or leveraged if necessary. Many families viewed them as emergency reserves. Unlike currencies, which could fluctuate dramatically, historical artifacts tended to retain their worth. In uncertain times, that reliability was highly appreciated.
As a result, the Sonnenbergs' reception wing was filled with carefully selected pieces of history. Visitors encountered reminders of the family's past at every turn. Yet even these displays represented only a fraction of their true collection. The most valuable artifacts remained elsewhere. Very few people would ever see them.
Those treasures were stored with a Swiss banking house that had maintained strict secrecy for generations. The institution had built its reputation on protecting the possessions of powerful families. It had sworn never to use information about stored assets against its clients. That promise formed the foundation of its existence.
Over the centuries, many governments had attempted to challenge that secrecy. Pressure had come from numerous directions, particularly from powerful foreign interests seeking access to hidden collections. The United States had been among the most persistent during parts of the twentieth century. Yet those efforts ultimately failed.
The reason was simple. European factions viewed banking secrecy as essential to protecting their historical treasures. Any attempt to undermine that system threatened far more than money. It endangered centuries of accumulated heritage. As a result, opposition formed quickly whenever outside forces pushed too aggressively.
Faced with resistance from influential families across Europe, those campaigns gradually lost momentum. The collections remained protected, and the Swiss institutions continued operating under their traditional principles. Even after the arrival of the System, that arrangement largely endured. For many ancient factions, those vaults remained the safest place in the world for the artifacts that defined their history.