At roughly the same time Richard Mellon Scaife was meeting with Julian Robertson, a smaller, more exclusive reception was being held at the White House in Washington.
Unlike the victory party on election night, this event was much smaller in scale but higher in prestige.
For those familiar with the current political and economic landscape of the U.S., it would have been easy to spot several key figures from the core of the Westeros system among the thirty or so attendees. These included Joseph Schlap, one of the heads of the Westeros family's lobbying team; Celia Miller, Simon Westeros's personal military affairs assistant, and her husband, Philip Miller; as well as Philip Raybould, who could arguably be considered another brother-in-law to Simon Westeros.
And those were just the visible players.
As for which of the attending cabinet members or congresspeople had been nurtured by the Westeros family as proxies, only those with deep political networks could tell.
"Yes, Celia," Hillary Clinton was saying, holding a glass of cocktail in her hand, "after the failure in Somalia, the Department of Defense plans to outsource some of its operations this time. But I reviewed your submitted bids, and I only saw proposals from the teams based in Columbus, Ohio, and Perth, Australia. There wasn't anything from the Ukrainian team. To my knowledge, the mercenary groups in Ukraine are the most cost-effective, aren't they?"
Celia Miller responded with a polite smile. "Madam First Lady, it's mainly because we hope to give the teams based in the U.S. and Australia more opportunities. After all, no matter how you look at it, they're one of us, aren't they?"
The two were discussing the U.S.'s plans to increase its military presence in Africa.
With the scars of the 1993 Black Hawk Down incident fading and strategic tensions in Central Africa once again rising—not to mention pressure from various lobbying interest groups—Clinton was planning to reintroduce stronger military deployments in Africa during his second term.
Meanwhile, the success of the Westeros family's private military forces in recent years had caught the attention of other interest groups. Watching these private forces secure substantial contracts in Eastern Europe, the Middle East, Africa, and even Latin America, many other groups were eager to get in on what they saw as a legitimate opportunity to contribute to the nation—or, as Hillary Clinton saw it, "undermine the nation" by profiting from outsourcing military operations.
To avoid repeating the Somali debacle, the Department of Defense was becoming increasingly enthusiastic about military outsourcing. The interests of various stakeholders aligned seamlessly.
Hillary didn't buy Celia's "one of us" argument for a second. She was convinced this was Simon Westeros's way of further strengthening his private military forces, both in the U.S. and in Australia. After all, a strong military force requires battle experience. Two years earlier, the Ukrainian mercenary team had been forged into a formidable private military group after undergoing the crucible of the Rwandan conflict, becoming an important asset for Simon Westeros.
Unfortunately, Ukraine was ultimately too far from the U.S.
Building similar forces within the U.S. or Australia was much harder, constrained by various rules and regulations. Even so, after quietly operating for over two years, Simon had managed to establish forces in both regions. According to the information Hillary had seen, the Westeros system now controlled two private military groups based in Ohio and Western Australia, with a combined deployable force of 3,000 soldiers—far from the small training contracts they had started with.
Given that everyone understood the game, Hillary wasn't inclined to dig deeper. Her earlier remark was more of a subtle "I know what you're up to" than a genuine probe.
Celia, of course, wasn't about to admit anything. After a few more minutes of cordial conversation that effectively sealed a tacit agreement, Celia took her husband's arm and moved to another part of the room.
Watching the affectionate couple leave, Hillary couldn't help but think of the word "power couple." Smiling to herself, she turned and made her way to her husband, who was deep in conversation with Treasury Secretary Bob Rubin and a young man named Philip Raybould.
The topic? Yale University.
The President, the First Lady, the Treasury Secretary, and the Westeros brother-in-law all had one thing in common: they were Yale alumni, specifically from Yale Law School.
"Ah, the Skull and Bones Society," Bill Clinton said with a grin. "Philip, you were right to decline. And no, it's not just sour grapes because I wasn't invited to join. After the 1970s, Skull and Bones lost its edge. Joining now would just be a waste of time. Back in the day, though, it was an elite club. Take our former president's eldest son, for example."
"Not the brightest bulb in the box," Bob Rubin added with a chuckle.
"Ha, Bob, that's the first time I've heard you say that," Clinton laughed.
"Hey, did you know that our Texas governor used to be a Yale cheerleader?"
"Really? Why do I always feel like laughing whenever I hear that? Haha, stealing the cheerleaders' spotlight—a man's eternal shame."
"Honestly, it's kind of enviable."
"Fair point, haha." Clinton laughed again and, turning to Philip, didn't forget to include the young man in the banter. "So, Philip, any good stories about the Yale-Harvard football rivalry? Back in my day, every game was a spectacle."
Philip Raybould, confident yet deferential as a junior in the conversation, replied with a smile, "The most memorable moment during my sophomore year was when our band rewrote Harvard's fight song mid-game to transition into Yale's tune. Then we got the Harvard students to sing it before the game."
Bob Rubin lit up. "That's way better than when we stole their bulldog mascot. Philip, how did you pull that off? Sing a bit for us."
Philip obliged, finding his rhythm and singing the song, transitioning into Yale's fight tune. The Clintons and Rubin joined in, laughing and humming along. The lively exchange drew envious glances from other attendees, though any envy quickly turned into resignation upon learning the young man's identity.
It was a connection they simply couldn't compete with.
Of course, the President couldn't devote all his time to a single guest. After five or six minutes, he asked about Philip's work, offered a few words of encouragement, and moved on to mingle with others.
As the reception neared its end, Joseph Schlap approached the President again to discuss more pressing matters.
Chief among them were the telecommunications, internet, and entertainment bills the Westeros system had been advocating for.
During this election, the Westeros system had kept an extremely low profile. However, it had still provided ample resources to Clinton's campaign—so much so that, to avoid drawing attention, the indirect operational costs had actually been higher than usual.
At its core, U.S. politics revolves around the exchange of interests, whether between politicians and the public or between politicians and capital. It's a straightforward trade: support in exchange for benefits.
Now that Clinton had secured re-election, he could afford to be less cautious compared to his first term. With no chance of a third term, he had fewer reservations. This transactional approach—relentlessly loosening restrictions on federal capital to secure continued post-Clinton support—was a key reason why the Clintons rose to become one of the fastest-growing political dynasties of the millennium.
As a result, Clinton and Schlap had an enthusiastic conversation.
Regarding the antitrust investigation into Egret, Clinton said, "Joseph, you know the challenges I'm facing. Right now, 23 state attorneys general are involved. I need time. And honestly… you must understand why I did it this way. Having the Justice Department initiate the investigation was far better than letting Congress lead it."
"I understand," Joseph Schlap nodded. "But, Mr. President, you really should have given Simon a heads-up last time."
"I know, and I'm sorry. Things were moving too fast. When I got word that Congress was about to act, I had to preempt them. And, well, given the election atmosphere, it wasn't appropriate for the White House to be seen liaising with Simon."
"Fair enough," Schlap conceded. Before ending their conversation, he brought up another matter. "One more thing, Mr. President. You might not be aware, but recently Simon had some… unpleasant dealings with Richard Mellon Scaife."
Clinton's eyes lit up.
One of the major players who had spent years and millions digging up dirt on him, Richard Mellon Scaife was someone Clinton despised. However, even as President, he couldn't openly target a family as entrenched as the Mellons, who had over a century of influence in the U.S. Any move against them would only backfire.
In the U.S., the only effective counter to one form of capital is another.
After a moment of thought, Clinton leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. "If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask."
As a seasoned politician, Clinton would not easily step out of bounds. But within the rules, he wouldn't hesitate to seize an opportunity to undermine those who had humiliated him.
With their discussion concluded, Schlap bid farewell to the President and First Lady before leaving the White House. Early the next morning, he returned to New York.
Long Island, East Hampton.
It was Saturday, November 9.
Despite the weekend, Joseph Schlap went straight to Long Island after returning to New York to report his progress in Washington to his boss.
The meeting took place at a
rehearsal hall within the coastal compound of the National Style Arts Troupe in East Hampton.
Led into the largest room by one of his boss's attendants, Schlap was immediately struck by the warm, fragrant air and the sight of graceful dancers performing on stage. Though it was already November and New York's first snowfall could arrive at any moment, the hall—spanning nearly 500 square meters—featured a stage raised just 50 centimeters above the floor. Below it was an arrangement of plush sofas.
Schlap's gaze moved from the dancers to the figure seated on the central sofa. His boss reclined lazily, flanked by women, with his legs propped up on an ottoman.
Aside from the four scantily clad young women on either side of the long sofa, several more stood or sat in the surrounding chairs, forming a ring around the man who looked every bit like a king in this decadent tableau. To Schlap, it resembled the dramatic entrances of movie villains—often followed by the protagonist storming in to upend their lair amidst the screams of the women.
Well, not today.
As Schlap entered, Simon signaled for the dancers to pause. He didn't rise but gestured for Schlap to sit in a chair vacated by one of the young women. A girl handed Schlap a beautifully bound booklet, its cover adorned with Chinese landscape art. Simon smiled. "Perfect timing, Joseph. Join me in evaluating this. I'd like your thoughts on their performance."
Schlap nodded, watching as Simon gave instructions in Chinese. The performance resumed, accompanied by an English introduction from a soft female voice.
Schlap heard the title and quickly flipped through the booklet, which appeared designed to be a collectible. On the first page, beneath a serene landscape painting, was a Chinese title: You Hu (The Fox). Though he wasn't familiar with the language, the English annotations and the imagery of a small fox by a stream soon gave him an idea of the story's theme.
The dance depicted the inner solitude of a woman waiting for her husband to return from war, using the metaphor of a fox to express her emotions.
On stage, to the accompaniment of classical Eastern music, the performance began.
The lead dancer, dressed delicately to resemble a white fox, moved gracefully as though darting through a forest or drinking by a stream. The atmosphere created by the music and visual presentation was both lonely and ethereal. Occasionally, the fox encountered companions, but despite their joy, she remained unable to connect with them, ultimately retreating into solitude.
The performance included not only dance and music but also moments of soft female vocalization.
…
A fox, sleek and smooth, wanders near the Qi River. My heart is heavy; my beloved has no garments.
A fox, sleek and smooth, lingers by the Qi ford. My heart is heavy; my beloved has no belt.
A fox, sleek and smooth, roams near the Qi banks. My heart is heavy; my beloved has no clothes.
…
Though he couldn't understand the Chinese lyrics, Schlap had to admit the performance was breathtaking.
When the piece concluded, the dancers bowed gracefully in classical Chinese style before floating offstage. Schlap, who had raised his hands to clap but noticed no one else was doing so, stopped himself. He turned to Simon and said, "That was incredible, Simon. I see the booklet mentions a premiere at the Metropolitan Opera House on December 6. Is that true?"
"Of course," Simon replied, still reclining with one arm around a lithe young woman. "The initial promotional campaign is already underway." Then, he asked, "Tell me, Joseph, did you understand it?"
Schlap nodded. "It wasn't hard to grasp. With the annotations in the booklet, I picked up the entire story on the first pass."
"Good," Simon said. "That's exactly what I'm aiming for. For a culture to spread into another, the first step is to make it comprehensible. It's simple but also very difficult. If no one understands it, we'd be setting ourselves up for embarrassment."
"How could that happen? Even if people don't understand it, the performance itself is a visual feast," Schlap said. Then, with a touch of awkwardness, he added, "Simon, since it's going to be performed at the Met, can I pre-order some tickets?"
"No problem," Simon replied. "I'll set aside ten tickets for you. Feel free to share them with anyone who might be interested." Finally, he straightened up and gently nudged the woman beside him. "You all continue practicing. I'll be back shortly—I have some business to discuss."
Though Schlap would have preferred staying in the lavish setting, he followed Simon as they moved to an adjacent lounge. After coffee was served, Simon instructed his assistant to hand Schlap a file. "We can discuss the other matters later. For now, take a look at this. It just arrived from Ukraine a few hours ago."
Schlap opened the file and began scanning its contents.
It detailed a murder that had occurred that very morning in Donetsk, in eastern Ukraine. Yefim Shcherban, a prominent businessman in the region, and his wife had been ambushed and gunned down outside their home. Both their driver and a bodyguard were also killed in the attack.
The file included photos from the crime scene.
They were horrific.
The Westeros lobbying team maintained an office in Ukraine, and with Simon's evident interest in the country, Schlap had made it a point to familiarize himself with its key players.
Seeing Shcherban's name, Schlap immediately recognized him as a leader of the Donetsk clan in eastern Ukraine.
And he could more or less piece together the context of the killing.
For over a year, tensions between Prime Minister Pavlo Lazarenko's faction and the Donetsk clan had escalated, both vying for control over the industrial assets left behind in eastern Ukraine by the Soviet Union. Now that Lazarenko had ascended to the position of prime minister, those tensions had grown even sharper.
Yefim Shcherban's assassination wasn't entirely surprising. After all, just a few months earlier, Lazarenko himself had survived a public car bomb assassination attempt, which had evidently been orchestrated by Shcherban. Today's attack was clearly Lazarenko's faction taking its revenge.
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