In the southern part of Rivne, where numerous lakes are scattered, the area had long been a haven for the wealthy and powerful. Over the past two years, this trend had only intensified.
Early the next morning, Vladimir Kolkoshko awoke in a family villa located in this affluent district. It was just after 5 a.m. At 51 years old, he found himself needing less sleep. While his wife got up to prepare breakfast, Vladimir spent half an hour jogging in the home gym. Though not particularly enthusiastic about fitness, he jogged to maintain his health amidst a busy lifestyle that left little time for concerns like physique.
At 6 a.m., after his workout, Vladimir moved to the living room. A housemaid brought him the morning papers and turned on the television, allowing him to leisurely catch up on current events.
By 7 a.m., it was time for breakfast.
His two sons, dragged home the previous night, were roused from their beds by their mother. Kirill, the younger, sauntered into the dining room shirtless and couldn't resist patting the housemaid on her backside as she walked by. Vladimir shot him a sharp glare. Startled by his father's gaze, Kirill snapped to attention, forced an awkward grin, and dashed back upstairs to grab a shirt before returning to the table.
Ignoring his mother's gentle nagging to dress more warmly as she served him food, Kirill simply picked up his utensils and focused on eating.
Sipping on his sweet soup, Vladimir turned his attention to more serious matters. He asked his eldest son, Nicholas, who had always been the more dependable of the two, "What's this about the batch of TVs you mentioned last night? I don't recall you ever dealing in that business before."
Nicholas replied, "It's from China. One of Simon's people facilitated the deal for us. Alexander mentioned that this person is someone Simon highly values in China. Even the amber deal—it was this same woman who helped us secure a great price. Without her, we'd have been taken advantage of for sure."
Vladimir frowned slightly. "A woman?"
Kirill, busy wolfing down food, chimed in. "Dad, you don't know? Simon has a group of incredibly capable women around him. They're like an A, B, C, D team, each worth billions. This one in China—uh, her name is Chen Qing—she's really impressive. Alexander says she's overseeing a major IPO project between Cersei Capital and the Chinese government."
Vladimir nodded slightly, but his tone quickly turned stern. "When dealing with people like that, remember this: cooperation is fine, but never entertain any other thoughts."
"Hey, we wouldn't dare. It's not like we're lacking," Kirill replied with a grin.
At this point, Kolkoshko's wife interjected, "Nicholas, Kirill, do either of you have a girlfriend yet? Things are going well for us now. It's about time you two thought about getting married."
"Mom, can you stop bringing that up? Nicholas and I are still young," Kirill complained.
Vladimir shot him another glare. "Don't talk to your mother like that."
Kirill didn't dare argue back. Conveniently, the housemaid returned with a small cake. Clearly playing coy, Kirill gestured toward her playfully but stopped short of touching her. The young maid, barely in her twenties and blessed with a pretty face and full figure, flinched slightly and glanced toward Vladimir with a hint of pleading in her eyes.
Though annoyed, Vladimir refrained from saying anything this time. Once the maid had left, he resumed the conversation. "About the tariffs—be cautious. Pay what needs to be paid. Don't give anyone too much leverage over you. The port in Odessa is outside our control, and Kyiv's scrutiny of us is only increasing. If something goes wrong, it'll be hard to fix."
In the chaotic environment of Eastern Europe, smuggling was rampant. Many oligarchs had risen to power through illicit trade, often with the tacit approval—or active participation—of government officials.
Nicholas reassured him, "Don't worry, Dad. It's all handled. There won't be any issues."
"Good. Also, you two should avoid making public appearances as much as possible. Let Alexander and the others handle the operational details. Don't be stingy with their rewards—stinginess won't get you far in this line of work."
Kirill nodded enthusiastically. "Got it, got it."
Vladimir almost reached across the table to slap him but held back. Instead, his expression grew serious. "I've said this before, and I'll say it again. My plan is to cement our place in Rovno. My abilities are limited to this region. In the future, the Kolkoshko family will depend entirely on you two. If you fail, even if Simon spares you out of sentiment, your only option might be to flee Ukraine and live abroad."
Nicholas, sensing the gravity of his father's words, nodded earnestly this time.
Kirill, though subdued, couldn't resist asking, "Dad, have you ever thought about moving abroad? Everyone says it's better than Ukraine."
"It's still someone else's land. Visiting is fine, but living there? Unless absolutely necessary, who would willingly leave their homeland?"
"I think I'd be willing," Kirill muttered.
"Don't argue with your father," their mother interjected, defusing the tension. She added, "Also, Nicholas, Kirill, you need to take care of your sister more."
"She doesn't need us to look after her."
"It's not the same," she replied, shaking her head. "Mistresses can never replace a wife. It won't last."
The brothers fell silent, knowing she had a point.
If anyone else dared treat their sister like that, they'd have dealt with it personally. But this was Simon Westeros. The family owed everything they had to him. If he decided to take it all away, there would be nothing they could do.
"Maybe," Nicholas ventured after a moment, "maybe our sister could become one of those powerful women around Simon."
Before anyone else could respond, their mother shook her head with a smile. "Not a chance. Your sister is just a simple girl. None of us are particularly smart. That's why you two must find intelligent women to marry. They say that way, your children will be smarter."
"..."
After breakfast, the brothers, weary of their mother's matchmaking attempts, quickly left. Vladimir also departed for the state government office.
Upon arriving at the city center government building, his secretary greeted him with news of a morning meeting and handed him the materials.
Once in his office, Vladimir reviewed the documents, his expression growing curious.
The meeting's agenda focused on solutions for resettling residents of the slums on Rivne's west side.
The issue had been on Vladimir's mind since returning from the resort the night before, but he hadn't expected it to be the topic of his first meeting.
The materials included a comprehensive proposal.
Two private banks controlled by the Westeros system—Rivne United Bank and Rivne Development Bank—would invest $200 million, partnering with Sergei Komorov's Ordek Corporation to build resettlement communities in the city's western and northern districts.
Two hundred million dollars.
The figure reminded Vladimir of the meager $330 million Ukraine had received from the West a few years ago for relinquishing its nuclear weapons.
And here was the Westeros system, casually investing $200 million.
It seemed almost absurdly extravagant.
Reading the documents carefully, Vladimir realized the investment would be spread over two years, not a lump sum. Still, it felt excessive. In his eyes, the impoverished slum dwellers and the growing influx of Ukrainian migrants to Rivne weren't worth such an expenditure.
If this were for UFMS mercenaries, it would make sense. Armies, after all, were insatiable money pits.
But for these people? What was the point?
Had an angel descended upon Ukraine?
Vladimir doubted it. He suspected the proposal had been approved personally by Simon Westeros—no one else in the Westeros system would dare commit such a sum without his consent.
Was Simon possessed by an angel? Clearly a joke.
No matter how he thought about it, Vladimir struggled to see how the investment could be recouped. Yet, unable to fathom Simon's true intentions, he had no choice but to accept the decision.
The meeting began at 10 a.m.
In the large conference room, government officials and syndicate leaders whispered among themselves, equally puzzled by the proposal's sudden appearance.
For the next two hours, the heads of Rivne United Bank and Rivne Development Bank outlined the plan. As they discussed the need for state support in securing land allocations and passing development laws, Vladimir felt he had grasped a piece of the puzzle.
With Rivne's population booming and real estate prices rising, Simon appeared to be laying the groundwork to monopolize the city's real estate market.
Anticipating the city's continued growth, he was investing in its future—a future where Rivne could surpass Kyiv's 3 million population. The demand for housing would naturally skyrocket, ensuring massive profits for those who controlled the industry.
Vladimir, however, couldn't help but think the $200 million was overkill.
His limited vision failed to grasp the bigger picture. Others, like Sergei Komorov, understood more. Drawing on examples like West Germany's investment of billions into East Germany post-reunification, Komorov recognized that cities don't rise from nothing—substantial investment is essential.
For Simon, the $200 million was not charity but a calculated move to tighten
the Westeros system's control over Rivne. By dominating land, real estate, and banking, he could dictate the city's economic life, ensuring a perpetual flow of wealth and labor into his hands.
A self-sustaining cycle of control. Forever.
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