Well, it seems I've been given the cold treatment," Natan thought as he quietly walked along the wooden pathway leading toward the Sonnenbergs' estate. He had expected something like this from the moment Karl mentioned who would escort him. After all, he had openly questioned the patriarch over the phone, and while Karl had laughed it off, family members were often far more protective of their elders. If Arin wanted to make his displeasure known without crossing any lines, then a silent escort was probably the perfect way to do it.
Natan could hardly blame him. Every strong organization protected its own people, especially those at the very top. From his years in intelligence, he had learned that the fastest way to destroy trust inside an organization was to tolerate insults toward its leaders. The Sonnenbergs clearly understood that lesson, and judging by everything he had learned recently, they had been practicing it for centuries.
The Great Houses shared a remarkably similar philosophy. They had always supported the continued existence of the European Union because a united Europe allowed them to project their influence far more effectively than a continent divided into constantly feuding nations. As a result, they had willingly provided governments with countless historical examples showing what happened to rulers who treated their own followers as expendable. In their eyes, loyalty had to flow both ways, or it eventually collapsed.
That principle even extended to intelligence operations. Agents were fully informed before dangerous missions that, if captured, their governments would publicly deny any involvement. It sounded cruel at first glance, but the Great Houses insisted that such honesty was better than making false promises. In return, the families of those operatives were quietly protected through private organizations that ensured they would never be abandoned. It was an old system, but apparently one that had survived because it worked.
Still, none of that mattered today. Natan had not come to make demands or investigate the Sonnenbergs. He had come to ask for a favor, and that meant swallowing his pride. Complaining about Arin's attitude would only make him look immature, especially considering the young ranger was the patriarch's own grandson.
Besides, Arin possessed no authority to actually mistreat him. The cold silence was simply a reminder that respect flowed both ways. Natan accepted that much without complaint. As someone who frequently negotiated with powerful figures, he knew better than to take minor slights personally.
As they continued walking, his attention gradually shifted away from the awkward silence and toward the road beneath his feet. He had to admit that the craftsmanship was impressive. Building such a wide and stable pathway through an enormous swamp in barely a week should have been impossible. Yet the wooden road remained remarkably level, sturdy enough for several wagons to pass one another without difficulty.
Every few dozen meters, thick support beams disappeared deep into the marsh below. Smaller reinforcement logs connected the larger pillars together, creating an intricate foundation hidden beneath the waterlogged soil. It was obvious that tremendous planning had gone into the construction long before the first tree had been cut down. Natan found himself silently admiring the engineering involved.
Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, he finally broke the silence.
"May I ask how this pathway was built?"
Arin did not even slow his pace.
"With our hands. The rest I'm not entirely sure about," he answered in an unusually flat voice.
The brief response carried no obvious hostility, but it certainly did not encourage further conversation. Arin immediately returned to walking in silence as though the exchange had never happened. Natan understood the message perfectly. The young man had no intention of entertaining him during the journey.
Ironically, Arin was only present because he had specifically volunteered for this assignment. Under normal circumstances, either his father or his uncle would have escorted important guests. However, the moment Karl mentioned that someone needed to fetch Natan from the river, Arin had immediately stepped forward with suspicious enthusiasm. Unfortunately for Karl, he realized Arin's true intentions only after granting permission.
By the time Karl understood that Arin intended to use the assignment as ammunition against future escort duties, the boy had already disappeared out the front door. Chasing after him would only have created unnecessary embarrassment. Karl could only sigh and accept that he had been outmaneuvered by his own grandson. It was a small reminder that Arin had inherited more than a little of the family's stubbornness.
Natan remained quiet for the rest of the journey. There was little point attempting another conversation when the answer would probably be equally short. Instead, he focused on memorizing the surroundings. Years in intelligence had taught him that silence often revealed more than words.
Eventually, the pathway emerged from the swamp and led directly toward the Sonnenbergs' reception wing. The moment Natan entered the building, his attention was immediately captured by the historical artifacts lining the grand entrance hall. Ornate weapons, noble banners, ceremonial shields, and priceless heirlooms decorated nearly every wall. Each piece silently testified to centuries of history that the family had preserved.
Unlike many wealthy organizations that purchased antiques simply to appear prestigious, these relics clearly belonged here. Every artifact had a story attached to it, and together they painted the picture of a family that had quietly influenced history for generations. Looking around the room, Natan finally understood why the Great Houses respected the Sonnenbergs so highly. Their wealth was impressive, but their history was even more valuable.
His professional instincts immediately began estimating values. Many of the displayed weapons alone were probably worth fortunes. The combined collection represented enough wealth to make entire museums jealous. For a brief moment, the treasury department flashed through his mind.
Then he immediately dismissed the thought.
Reporting the family for tax reassessments would be an excellent way to ruin his career. Everyone knew the treasury occasionally dreamed of appraising collections like these, but they never seriously attempted it. The legal nightmare alone would consume years before anyone even reached the first display cabinet.
The Great Houses had made that lesson abundantly clear decades earlier. They paid their taxes without complaint because they simply did not care about the money. However, attempting to confiscate or interfere with cultural relics was an entirely different matter. Hidden deep inside countless archives were ancient treaties, inheritance agreements, royal charters, and noble privileges that governments had inherited alongside the nations they replaced.
The sheer amount of legal documentation was enough to bury any bureaucrat under mountains of paperwork. Worse still, the Great Houses possessed historians capable of navigating every single document. Whenever governments tried pushing too hard, those forgotten agreements mysteriously resurfaced. Eventually, everyone concluded that leaving historical collections alone was far easier.
Remembering why he had come, Natan forced himself to stop admiring the displays. The elders were already waiting inside the meeting room. Whatever discussions lay ahead would be far more important than satisfying his curiosity about the family's history. Taking a steady breath, he stepped inside to discuss the favor he had traveled so far to request.
Outside, however, Arin had a very different priority.
"That went amazingly," he said with obvious satisfaction. "Now let's get out of here before Grandpa finds another job for us."
The moment the words left his mouth, he sprinted away from the reception building with remarkable speed. His friends burst into laughter before quickly following after him. None of them wanted to remain close enough for Karl to discover that they had already finished their assignment.
Their destination was the family's recently rebuilt archery range. Five years before the arrival of the System, the Sonnenbergs had completely modernized their training facilities using cutting-edge holographic technology. Those projectors could generate moving targets at virtually any distance while accurately recreating realistic combat scenarios. Although traditional straw targets still existed, the holographic systems had become invaluable for advanced training.
Everyone also knew those remarkable machines would not last forever. The sophisticated electronics required specialized components that could only be manufactured inside the largest cities, and transporting replacements through mana-rich wilderness had become impossible. Every year, more advanced equipment would fall beyond repair. The family, therefore, used the remaining systems as much as possible while they still functioned.
Even governments faced the same problem. They retained enormous manufacturing capabilities within major cities protected by enormous cultural energy, but producing replacement parts meant little if they could not transport them safely across the expanding wilderness. Humanity had entered an era where preserving existing technology was often easier than replacing it. Until truly mana-resistant engineering became commonplace, even the greatest technological achievements slowly counted down toward their inevitable end.