"Great, so what are we supposed to do? I don't want to have to deal with them both," said Gustaw with despair in his voice. Both families were scary, and the Sonnebergs had Herman's backing, so touching them was out of the question. Their houses were not actually afraid of either family, as they could survive any revenge that came their way. The problem was that doing so would incur needless losses and create problems they simply did not need.
Not to mention that all of them wanted to live and not be killed for revenge. Both families possessed the means to eliminate the highest-ranking decision-makers in their respective houses. Such a loss would immediately create opportunities for succession crises. A succession crisis was the kind of thing that could uproot centuries of careful planning. None of the great houses wanted to gamble with that possibility.
"Simple, I don't think those families want to fight us, as it is not really advantageous for them," said Orazio. "Honestly, the fact that that family decided to return is advantageous to us." His expression hardened as he thought about the situation. "That whole cult reeks of the US, so let it rot." Several heads around the table nodded in agreement.
"I suggest we begin by contacting the Bingen family, as I know they definitely have contact with both families," Orazio continued. "Then we openly give them the information regarding that cult and explain that we wish to mend relations." He leaned forward as he spoke. The proposal was simple, practical, and gave everyone a way out of a potentially dangerous conflict.
"As for the Sonnebergs, we should first make sure that the whole forest and a little bit more is included in that contract," said Orazio. "And we need to search for those guard dogs again." His face twisted with irritation. "How dare they escape? They should honestly be sent to die." The memory of their disappearance still angered him greatly.
The last reports he had received claimed that they had escaped to South America. That fact alone was enough to make his blood boil. Too many resources had been invested in tracking them down. Yet despite all those efforts, they had simply vanished from the face of the earth. It was an embarrassment he had never fully accepted.
The rest of the room agreed with the suggestion. They saw no reason to break relations with such important families. Everyone knew they would require their services in the future. The few people who had chosen the Archer class had already purchased bows from the Sonneberg shop. Re-establishing open connections would only benefit everyone involved.
The same was true for the assassin family. Their own specialists had never reached the same level despite all the technology and resources invested into them. Skills refined over generations could not simply be replicated overnight. The value of such expertise had only increased since the System arrived. That alone made peace the preferable option.
"Right, I am sorry I had to end on a sad note, but goodbye," said Orazio. He switched off the projector and watched the room disappear. One by one the participants disconnected from the meeting. Silence slowly returned to his office. Finally, he was alone with his thoughts.
"I hope they accept the peace offering," thought Orazio as he leaned back in his chair. Too much had changed in the world already. The last thing Europe needed was another ancient feud surfacing at the worst possible moment. Yet he knew history rarely cared about convenience. Old grudges had a habit of surviving far longer than the people who started them.
Far away from those concerns, life continued around the Secret Realm. "Hey Arin, when do you think the Secret Realm is going to run out of troops?" asked Tom as he climbed out of his sleeping bag. They were camped roughly ten kilometers from the portal. A researcher from China had already established that five kilometers was the limit at which human presence affected spawn rates. As a result, the camp had been positioned carefully.
"I don't know. I hope pretty soon," said Arin. "That mana degradation is no joke." He gestured toward what remained of his sleeping arrangements. What had once been a perfectly good sleeping bag was now little more than scraps of cloth. Most of it had already disintegrated into dust.
"That is true," said Tom while examining the remains. "And we are only twenty kilometers from our mana vein." He shook his head in disbelief. "At this rate it is reasonable to think that fifty kilometers further out it won't matter if you are wearing your clothes." The thought was not exactly comforting.
"That is true, but at least they proved that produce assembled by human hands doesn't break down nearly as badly," said Bertho. He looked down at his arrows with visible relief. The workmanship was rough compared to what the family usually produced. Still, they functioned, and right now that was all that mattered.
The difference between handmade and machine-made equipment was becoming increasingly obvious. Every expedition report confirmed the same trend. Human involvement seemed to provide some level of resistance against mana degradation. Nobody fully understood why it worked. That did not stop everyone from taking advantage of it.
"True. I wonder how they will develop the countryside now, but that is not important," said Arin. He stood up and walked toward a fallen tree. A few moments later he began drilling a hole into the top of a log. The others immediately recognized what he was doing. Breakfast was finally about to happen.
"Oh, you are starting breakfast. Great," said Tom as he suddenly appeared beside him. "Way better than those impossible bars." He shuddered dramatically. "The food is the only reason I don't go back to the mansion every day." Several nearby family members laughed at the comment.
Their unit had been stationed there for nearly a week. Operations were divided into three shifts of thirty people each. Around two hundred recruits remained nearby to reinforce the numbers. Although their accuracy had improved considerably over the previous six months, most were still only effective against stationary targets. Because of that, they mainly contributed through massed volleys of arrows.
"No, I hear you, Tom," said Arin. "Luckily our hydroponic farms still work and count as hand-farmed products." He continued working on the log while speaking. The project was surprisingly simple. Yet simplicity was often the best solution under difficult circumstances.
The log itself was around fifteen centimeters wide and thirty centimeters tall. A hole had been drilled into the top that extended halfway down the trunk. Another opening connected from the side to provide airflow. Near the top, Arin had drilled three angled holes and inserted sturdy sticks. Together they formed a basic support structure for a cooking pan.
"True, I never thought warming food in the morning would feel this special," said Bill as he joined them. "Not that I am complaining." The fire was lit moments later. Within seconds it had grown into a roaring blaze. The ancient stove worked remarkably well.
"Yes, we don't have proper grain to hand-make bread, so lots of eggs and vegetables it is," said Arin. He poured oil into the pan before cracking several eggs into it. The smell immediately began spreading through the clearing. More heads started turning toward the cooking area. Hunger was a powerful motivator.
"True, but I know the family is already working on establishing its own farm, right?" asked Tom with intrigue. He watched as Arin added tomatoes, onions, and diced ham into the mixture. The combination looked far better than their usual field rations. Even Bertho was paying more attention to breakfast than the portal for a moment.
"And where did you get the ham from?" Tom suddenly asked. His voice rose several octaves in excitement. The others immediately looked toward Arin as well. In the current situation, meat was a luxury. The possibility of having some for breakfast was enough to instantly improve everyone's mood.