But the valuable plants that grew throughout the swamps and wetlands surrounding the town gradually transformed it into one of the busiest settlements in the region. More than 100,000 people now lived there, with the overwhelming majority depending directly or indirectly on trade for their livelihood. Under the newly established administrative laws, that population was enough to classify the settlement as a town, even though such a number would once have been sufficient to earn city status. The standards had changed dramatically since the arrival of the System, and the definition of a city had become far stricter.
In the past, reaching one hundred thousand inhabitants had usually been enough for a settlement to be recognized as a city. Now, however, a settlement could only earn that title if it possessed the economic strength to sustain a mint capable of producing at least one silver coin every day. Achieving that level of productivity generally required a permanent population of at least one million people, making true cities far rarer than they had once been.
Although it officially remained a town, it still possessed nearly every important public service expected of a much larger settlement. Firefighters, police officers, and emergency services had all established permanent facilities there to support the growing population. Under ordinary circumstances, a hospital of such size would have been considered excessive for a town with only one hundred thousand permanent residents. However, the permanent population told only a small part of the story.
At any given moment, nearly three hundred thousand additional people passed through the town as merchants, sailors, adventurers, and travelers. The harbor was crowded almost every day with ships arriving from both inland Germany and the English Channel. The constant movement of people meant the streets were rarely quiet, while warehouses, inns, and marketplaces operated from dawn until long after sunset. It had become one of the busiest trade hubs along the river despite its relatively young age.
The reason for that prosperity was simple. The town sat directly on the Rhine River, one of the most important trade routes connecting much of Germany to the English Channel. Countless merchant vessels traveled up and down the river every week, transporting food, construction materials, refined metals, and magical resources between settlements. The amount of wealth flowing through the town increased with every passing season, encouraging shipbuilders to expand production in order to meet the growing demand.
Trade with adventurers further strengthened the local economy. Many merchants deliberately stopped there to purchase valuable treasures recovered from the nearby swamps before continuing their journeys elsewhere. Others specialized in transporting adventurers eager to explore the wetlands in search of rare herbs and magical beasts hidden in the marshes. The combination of river commerce and adventuring created an economic boom few settlements could rival.
Naturally, such prosperity also came with serious risks. Adventurers frequently returned with broken bones, deep cuts, poisonous bites, or illnesses contracted while exploring the dangerous wetlands. Others simply suffered accidents after slipping into hidden bogs or falling from unstable terrain. Because of that constant stream of injured people, the hospital quickly became one of the busiest institutions in the entire region.
Fortunately, the quality of medical care had improved enormously over the past few years. Europe's healthcare system had undergone a complete reconstruction after its catastrophic failure during the arrival of the System. That failure had not only cost countless lives but had also caused Europe to miss valuable opportunities to study the early effects of mana on the human body. The governments responsible had vowed never to allow such incompetence to happen again.
The investigation into those failures had been ruthless. Executives from insurance companies and senior hospital administrators were accused of placing profit above the survival of their nations during humanity's greatest crisis. After lengthy investigations and trials, nearly thirty individuals received the death penalty for what the courts ruled was an act of national betrayal. It was the first time such sentences had been carried out on that scale in generations, although historical precedent allowed the courts to justify their decision.
While the verdicts satisfied much of the public, they also created an entirely new problem. Many of the experienced administrators who understood how to manage large hospitals had suddenly disappeared, leaving enormous gaps throughout the healthcare system. New directors had to be appointed quickly, often without sufficient experience to oversee such complicated institutions. Europe desperately needed knowledgeable people who could rebuild both the administrative and medical sides of its healthcare system.
That was when the Bingen family stepped forward. For centuries they had been regarded as one of Europe's foremost medical trade families, and every member swore a modified version of the Hippocratic Oath before being recognized as a healer. While they interpreted certain parts of the traditional oath differently—particularly those concerning absolute non-malice—they remained deeply committed to preserving life and advancing medicine. Their reputation alone was enough to reassure governments throughout Europe.
Rather than keeping their knowledge secret, the Bingen family chose to educate doctors, nurses, and herbalists across the continent. They taught countless medicinal recipes, explained the properties of newly discovered magical herbs, and demonstrated treatment techniques that had been refined over generations. Combined with the medical knowledge humanity had retained from the old world, their teachings formed the foundation of Europe's new healthcare system. Hospitals that had once struggled simply to survive gradually became capable of treating even complicated mana-related illnesses.
The Bingen family also explained why many modern medicines had become dramatically less effective after humanity's transformation. The human body itself had not fundamentally changed, but the way it interacted with technology and chemically manufactured medicine certainly had. A simple painkiller like paracetamol, for example, now required nearly ten tablets to produce the same effect as a single dose before the System appeared. Even then, the body consumed enormous amounts of nutrients and mana just to process the medication, making such treatments highly inefficient.
Diagnostic medicine had changed just as dramatically. Many of the sophisticated machines doctors once relied upon either no longer functioned properly or produced unreliable results because of mana interference. Instead of depending on expensive equipment, physicians had to return to careful observation, accumulated experience, herbal remedies, and refined examination techniques. Medical skill once again depended more on knowledge than technology, making experienced healers more valuable than ever before.
For years, the Bingen family devoted itself to training Europe's medical professionals until they were confident that every region possessed doctors capable of treating ordinary illnesses and injuries without outside assistance. Their efforts stabilized the healthcare system and dramatically increased survival rates across the continent. By then, even the governments openly acknowledged that the family occupied a unique position within Europe. It was also around that time that the wider world truly began to understand the importance of Europe's ancient trade families and the invaluable roles they continued to play in humanity's survival.
The residents were naturally shocked when they learned that they lived so close to one of the oldest trade families in Europe. Before this revelation, the Sonnenbergs had been respected within certain circles, but they had never truly been famous among ordinary citizens. That changed almost overnight as curious visitors, merchants, adventurers, and even nobles began arriving at the edge of the Crimson Forest in hopes of meeting them. Unfortunately for those visitors, the Sonnenbergs had absolutely no interest in entertaining strangers and politely refused every request.
The sudden attention quickly became exhausting, which was exactly why the recruits had been stationed around the forest. Their primary task was no longer simply guarding the family's territory against dangerous beasts or wandering monsters. Instead, they spent most of their days turning away curious visitors who insisted on speaking with members of the family. While it sounded like an easy assignment, it required far more patience than fighting monsters ever had.
The increased popularity also made life much more inconvenient for the younger members of the family. Traveling between the town and the Crimson Forest every single day was no longer practical because too many people waited along the roads hoping to catch a glimpse of them. As a result, the children now stayed in town throughout the school week and only returned home during the weekends. Although everyone understood the necessity of the arrangement, none of the children particularly enjoyed spending so much time away from the forest.
By now, Arin and Tilly had nearly reached the central paths leading toward the family's estate. The rain had finally weakened to a gentle drizzle, and the familiar scent of wet leaves filled the air as birds cautiously returned to the treetops. Their relaxed pace allowed them to continue chatting without worrying about anyone overhearing their conversation. After a brief silence, Arin finally glanced around before asking another question.
"By the way," Arin said, "where are the rest of the children? I expected everyone to return for the weekend."
"They stayed behind," Tilly replied with a shrug. "The adults decided the weather was still too dangerous for the younger ones. Since I was the oldest among them, I was the only one allowed to make the trip back through the forest today." She smiled faintly before looking back at her brother with obvious curiosity. "So, what exactly was your mission? I haven't seen you for nearly a year."
"Don't even remind me," Arin answered with a defeated sigh that made Tilly laugh. He rubbed the back of his neck before shaking his head as though he wanted to forget the entire experience. "You know those mana stones everyone has been talking about for the past week?"
"Of course I do," Tilly answered immediately, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "They're supposed to be incredibly valuable. Some of the teachers couldn't stop talking about them, and half the students were already dreaming about finding one themselves." She tilted her head slightly. "What do they have to do with your mission?"
Arin released another long sigh before beginning his explanation. "About a year and a half ago, an old farmer who had fought against the Russians during the war saw a large bird flying high above his farm. While watching it, he noticed something fall from its claws. When he went to investigate, he discovered a strange stone unlike anything he had ever seen."
"The farmer didn't keep it for himself," Arin continued. "Instead, he handed it over to several of his old army friends who were still serving in the military. One of them had since joined the military think tank as a senior expert, so they immediately recognized that the stone might be something extraordinary. That single discovery started an investigation that eventually spread across the entire region."
"The military spent almost six months searching for the place where the bird had originally found the mana stone," Arin explained. "They searched mountains, valleys, rivers, abandoned villages, and countless forests, hoping to locate the source. Unfortunately, every search ended without success. The only place they couldn't properly investigate was the Black Forest."
Tilly nodded thoughtfully as she immediately understood why. The Black Forest was famous for its steep mountains, dense woodland, and terrain that made ordinary military operations painfully slow. Even experienced soldiers struggled to move through it efficiently, let alone organize a systematic search over such an enormous area. It was exactly the kind of place where something valuable could remain hidden for years.
"So eventually," Arin continued, "the military admitted they needed help. There was only one family in Europe with enough experience navigating forests like that without getting lost. Naturally, they turned to us."
Tilly couldn't help smiling proudly when she heard that. The Sonnenbergs had spent generations mastering the forests, and very few people understood woodland survival better than they did. Even the European military acknowledged that reality without hesitation. It was one of the few fields where no amount of modern technology could replace generations of practical experience.
"So they asked you to search the Black Forest?" she asked.
"Exactly," Arin answered with another weary sigh. "What sounded like a simple scouting mission turned into almost a full year of searching through mountains, ravines, cliffs, and forests that barely let any sunlight through. Every time we thought we had found a promising trail, it disappeared completely. I've probably walked more during the last year than I did during the previous five combined."
Tilly laughed quietly at his miserable expression. It was rare to see her brother complain about physical work, which meant the assignment must have been far worse than he was letting on. Even so, she could also hear the excitement hidden beneath his frustration. If the military had devoted so many resources to the search, then whatever produced those mana stones had to be something incredibly important.