"Viktor, I have officially expelled former French President Mitterrand's son Christophe and his team from Luanda. This should show my sincerity. So, I'd like to know, what's the real intention behind Kamega's visit to the U.S. next month?"
In Angola, inside the presidential residence in the capital city of Luanda, President José Eduardo dos Santos was having a private conversation with Viktor Meresis in a lavishly decorated reception room following a sumptuous luncheon.
Viktor Meresis, who had volunteered for his role over a year ago, had steadily gained Simon's trust. Being an Angolan citizen, even though he was a white man, he found it easier to gain entry to Angola's upper echelons. Today, he had been busy at the plantation when he received the President's sudden invitation to lunch, and he had already anticipated what might come up in their discussion.
The situation in Africa hadn't improved significantly since the Rwandan War two years earlier. In Angola, for instance, the rebel forces led by Savimbi in the south remained active, clashing sporadically with government forces. In the east, relations with Congo were deteriorating, with war looming as a constant threat. Angola's economy, crippled by years of civil war, was also in a dire state. Despite Africa's natural wealth, hunger remained a widespread issue; when people are hungry, they become desperate.
In short, dos Santos' regime was far less stable than it appeared to outsiders.
Viktor Meresis leaned back on the comfortable leather sofa, cigar in hand. After a petite Black maid served coffee and exited silently, he responded, "Mr. President, it's actually quite simple: the U.S. has decided to overthrow Mobutu in Congo. Since the fall of the Soviet Union, this has become inevitable. Today, the U.S. stands as the sole superpower, and while the United Nations may seem like a counterbalance, its impact is minimal. Whatever the U.S. wants to do, the U.N. can't stop it."
Dos Santos' eyes flickered with both recognition and a hint of concern. He flashed a quick smile at Viktor and asked, "Given this, Viktor, what do you think we should do?"
"Ah, Mr. President, I'm just a humble farmer; honestly, it's not my place to offer advice on such matters."
"Then, what's Mr. Westeros' opinion?"
"Our boss will certainly be watching the situation closely. But as for specific plans…" Viktor Meresis paused briefly, though he didn't intend to keep the African leader waiting too long. "I can only say, Mr. President, if you have any thoughts, I can help pass them along."
"As I mentioned earlier, I've expelled Mitterrand's team and cut off all arms deals with France; that's my position," dos Santos replied. "Over the past two years, I've realized that partnering with Mr. Westeros is undoubtedly a wise choice."
"Indeed," Viktor Meresis replied with a grin. "After all, our boss is simply a businessman. As long as our interests align, we can coexist. But countries like France—well, they only want to keep Africa under their colonial thumb. That's completely unacceptable."
Viktor's words were both a revelation and a reminder. Both men knew the reality.
Since Angola first established ties with the Westeros system, dos Santos had initially been cautious. Before 1994, while Angola wasn't subject to U.N. embargoes or sanctions, it had been difficult to acquire resources without dealing with difficult Western nations. France, for example, had secretly controlled an arms supply route from Eastern Europe to Angola through former President Mitterrand's son, Christophe Mitterrand. Angola's government had not only had to provide him with substantial benefits but also face constant pressure from the French government.
After partnering with the Westeros system, Angola gained access to a more affordable and reliable arms supply. However, they continued to maintain relations with France to avoid alienating potential allies.
With Mitterrand's death earlier this year, the influence of this political stalwart faded away. Seeing Africa's shifting dynamics, dos Santos had finally decided to take a side—wisely choosing to align with the Westeros system rather than explicitly with the U.S., even though his trip to the U.S. had been arranged through Simon's network.
The advantages were clear. The Westeros system wielded considerable influence within the U.S., which effectively meant Angola was backed by the U.S. itself. At the same time, Angola could bypass the direct oversight of the U.S. government, relying instead on the Westeros system as an intermediary.
As for Simon Westeros, dos Santos had initially been very cautious. This young tycoon had, after all, toppled a government in Rwanda.
However, after prolonged observation, dos Santos realized that Westeros's intervention in Rwanda wasn't about saving Tutsi refugees but about asserting the Westeros system's influence. Ultimately, Westerners had never truly cared about African lives.
This realization reassured dos Santos.
Doing business with Western nations often meant they could be discarded at any time—like Mobutu in Congo, whose government was on the brink of collapse. But cooperation with the Westeros system provided benefits equivalent to dealing with the U.S., without having to get too entangled with American politics. Politicians could be ruthless, far worse than businessmen.
From dos Santos' perspective, as long as his family secured the Westeros system's interests in Angola and deepened these ties, the system would remain a reliable shield. Breaking off would only occur if Simon Westeros decided to abandon his investments in Angola—something dos Santos considered unlikely.
The recent news of Rwandan President Kamega's visit to the U.S. next month only strengthened dos Santos' decision.
After the two men exchanged a few more pleasantries, dos Santos reiterated that he would convey Angola's goodwill to Simon. Viktor Meresis rose to take his leave, and dos Santos, doing his utmost to show respect, personally escorted him to the Mi-8 helicopter on the presidential residence's helipad.
Africa has only two seasons: the wet and the dry. Angola was currently in the dry season, and this year's drought was especially severe.
Viktor Meresis boarded the helicopter, which then took off toward the plantation he managed in Kuando Province, some 900 kilometers from Luanda. With the Mi-8's cruising speed of just over 200 kilometers per hour, the helicopter had to stop for refueling along the way, only reaching the plantation by dusk.
The plantation itself was protected by a force of 120 private troops from Westeros, led by another UFMS vice president, Viktor Kostalev. Kostalev, whom Simon had supported as a counterweight to Krim Derevyanko, was a former Soviet special forces operative who preferred frontline action over political games in Ukraine.
Due to the widespread local instability, the 600-square-kilometer plantation was anything but peaceful. Its relative wealth made it a tempting target for local militias, despite the agreement with Savimbi's forces in the south.
With only 120 private soldiers to guard it, the plantation needed additional manpower. Upon Simon's approval, Kostalev and Meresis assembled an extra force of 600 local residents. Since they weren't officially listed as employees, and most of them worked as disguised farmers on the plantation, their presence didn't attract much attention.
Dos Santos, while not entirely trusting, had reluctantly permitted Simon's establishment of the plantation, though he placed a government surveillance team nearby, supposedly to assist with the plantation's operations. But these monitors were easily turned into "close partners" of the plantation, and information seldom traveled back to Luanda.
The helicopter entered plantation airspace, and Viktor Meresis could see the verdant landscape below—markedly different from the desolation elsewhere.
In addition to the coffee trees already planted, other areas were cultivated with corn, wheat, and other crops, presenting a lush landscape that brought a rare warmth to Viktor Meresis' face.
It was the Africa he remembered: bountiful and beautiful, not the barren wasteland ravaged by corrupt forces.
As the helicopter landed, another Viktor—Kostalev—was just returning from patrol with his team. The two men, who had become close over time, embraced and headed into the quarters together.
Their quarters were equipped with air conditioning, as Simon ensured that his private army's conditions met or even exceeded U.S. military standards, offering the best amenities to those who risked their lives for him.
After taking a swig of water from the fridge, Meresis sat back and said, "Dos Santos has expelled Mitterrand's son's team and cut off arms dealings with France."
Kostalev chuckled. "He picked a perfect time to show his sincerity, considering our boss's recent conflict with the French government."
As a Ukrainian, Kostalev had heard about the rising tensions between Simon and France, which had been stirring up trouble in Ukraine and elsewhere. This was, in part, due to France's waning grip on the African arms trade.
After all, many conflicts ultimately boiled down to interests.
Meresis nodded. "Dos Santos is just being cautious. These African leaders know well that if the West turns against them, they won't last. They don't have much room to maneuver either. With France's influence in Africa waning and the U.S. as the world's only superpower, it's clear which side to choose. Partnering with our boss, rather than the U.S. government, is undoubtedly the safest bet."
Kostalev nodded in agreement.
Though Simon hadn't openly advocated for a "Westerosian" identity, both Viktor Kostalev and Viktor Meresis had come to see themselves that way. With his previous country gone and his faith shattered, Kostalev had lost his purpose. Meanwhile, Mer
esis held a deep-seated resentment toward his own homeland. The Westeros system had provided them both with a sense of belonging.
Most people, in the end, just need a place where their hearts feel at peace.
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