Morning at the estate began early.
When Skoropadskyi came downstairs for breakfast, the children were already at the table.
Maria was reading a book and occasionally writing notes on separate sheets of paper. Yelyzaveta was discussing an upcoming charity event in the city with her mother. Danylo was carefully studying an old map of Europe that someone had left on the table the night before.
Petro arrived last.
He looked as if he had already been awake for hours.
—"Were you at the stables?"
Petro nodded.
—"Since six in the morning."
Skoropadskyi smiled slightly.
—"That is obvious."
After breakfast the estate manager brought several new documents.
Skoropadskyi quickly reviewed them.
Reports from Kremenchuk.
Reports from Kryvyi Rih.
Transport contracts.
He looked at Petro.
—"Yesterday you said that you wanted to see the factories."
Petro immediately straightened in his chair.
—"Yes."
—"Then get ready."
Surprise immediately appeared on the boy's face.
—"Today?"
—"Today."
Several hours later they were already in Kremenchuk.
Skoropadskyi went directly to the administrative office of the flour enterprise instead of stopping at a hotel.
They were already waiting for him.
The plant manager spread documents across the table.
—"During the last three months the enterprise processed approximately three thousand six hundred tons of grain."
Petro listened carefully.
Skoropadskyi asked:
—"Storage losses?"
—"Slightly below three percent."
Skoropadskyi frowned immediately.
—"Too high."
The manager responded quickly.
—"The main problem is the old warehouses on the southern side."
He unfolded a diagram.
—"If we complete the new stone warehouses near the railway line, losses can be reduced by at least half."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"Cost?"
—"Approximately one hundred twenty thousand rubles."
Petro studied the diagram.
—"Why not store everything near the river?"
The manager smiled slightly, but Skoropadskyi answered first.
—"Because river navigation on the Dnipro becomes limited during winter."
He pointed at the logistics map.
—"If the river freezes, everything depends on the railway."
The manager added:
—"Currently around forty percent of flour shipments move by river, while sixty percent move by rail."
Petro nodded thoughtfully.
They moved into the production hall.
The noise of machinery filled the building.
Workers carried sacks.
Massive grinding mechanisms operated continuously.
One engineer said:
—"At our current workload we can increase output by another fifteen percent without constructing a new facility."
Skoropadskyi immediately asked:
—"How?"
—"New belt transmission systems from Belgium."
He continued:
—"And modernization of the steam boilers."
Petro looked at the machinery.
—"All of this just for flour?"
The engineer smiled.
Skoropadskyi answered calmly:
—"No."
He pointed at the railway map.
—"Flour means export contracts, river logistics, bank credit lines, and working capital for other industries."
Petro remained silent for several seconds.
—"So this factory finances the others?"
—"Partially."
Skoropadskyi looked at his son.
—"Stable enterprises allow you to build risky ones."
After that they traveled to the weapons workshops.
The building was much smaller.
But security there was noticeably stricter.
Inside they were greeted by the chief engineer.
Metal parts were laid across the table.
Cartridge cases.
Bolt components.
Feeding mechanisms.
The engineer began his report.
—"At the moment we produce approximately four hundred thousand cartridge cases per month."
He unfolded another report.
—"After the second stamping workshop begins operations, we can reach approximately six hundred thousand per month."
He pointed toward another document.
—"Our main limitations right now are brass supplies and imported machinery."
Skoropadskyi immediately asked:
—"How long would it take to localize part of production?"
The engineer answered confidently.
—"If Kryvyi Rih expands metal processing and the future mechanical workshops in Yelysavethrad begin producing equipment parts, we could reduce imports by twenty to thirty percent within two years."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
Petro looked at the rows of machinery.
—"And what happens if there is no war?"
The room became quiet for several seconds.
Skoropadskyi looked at him calmly.
—"Then we sell agricultural equipment, railway components, and civilian industrial products."
He paused briefly.
—"But if war begins, those who prepared in advance survive."
Petro said nothing.
For the first time he began to understand the scale of what his father was building.
When they left the weapons workshops, evening was already approaching.
But the city was still working.
Noise continued to come from the river port.
Locomotive whistles echoed from the railway station.
Skoropadskyi and Petro traveled to the new construction site on the edge of the city.
No finished buildings stood there yet.
Only foundations.
Brick.
Wooden structures.
Several engineers were studying blueprints.
One of the managers greeted them.
—"Pavlo Petrovych."
—"How is construction progressing?"
The manager opened documents.
—"The leather factory will be completed in eight months."
He pointed toward another section.
—"The clothing factory should be completed in approximately ten."
Petro carefully watched the construction site.
—"Why build this now?"
Skoropadskyi looked at his son.
—"What happens when an army suddenly expands by hundreds of thousands of soldiers?"
Petro thought for a moment.
—"It needs more weapons."
—"Not only weapons."
Skoropadskyi pointed toward the construction site.
—"Boots, uniforms, belts, saddle equipment. During major wars armies often suffer from supply shortages long before they run out of soldiers."
The manager joined the conversation.
—"Governments almost always think about rifles before boots."
Petro smiled slightly.
—"That sounds foolish."
Skoropadskyi answered calmly.
—"Many wartime decisions are foolish."
They continued walking through the construction site.
Workers were laying bricks.
Several contractors were discussing timber prices.
One engineer said:
—"If the bank approves an additional credit line, we can accelerate construction."
Skoropadskyi immediately asked:
—"By how much?"
—"Three or four months."
—"Risks?"
The engineer answered immediately.
—"Even if military demand slows after the war, civilian demand will remain."
He pointed at the report.
—"Demand for industrial clothing from mines, railways, and factories is already growing."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"Prepare the final calculations."
The next morning they left Kremenchuk.
Instead of returning to the estate, Skoropadskyi changed their route.
—"Are we going home?" Petro asked.
—"No."
—"Then where are we going?"
—"Kryvyi Rih."
Petro looked at him with surprise.
—"The steel plant?"
Skoropadskyi nodded slightly.
—"You have already seen trade and light industry. Now you will see the foundation of everything else."
By evening they arrived at the enterprise.
Even from a distance the plant was impossible to miss.
Thick smoke rose above the industrial district.
Tall chimneys stood above the steppe.
Even in the evening the complex was still working.
Bright orange light came from the blast furnaces.
Petro stared ahead in silence for several seconds.
—"I thought it would be smaller."
Skoropadskyi answered calmly.
—"In a few years it must become much larger."
They were met by the plant director, a French engineer, and a Belgian equipment specialist.
After brief formalities they moved into the administrative building.
Reports were already waiting on the table.
The French engineer spoke first.
—"During the last year production increased from fifteen thousand tons to twenty thousand tons."
He spread several reports across the table.
—"Most of the growth came from two modernized smelting lines and reduced transportation losses for iron ore."
Skoropadskyi immediately asked:
—"Cost per ton?"
The engineer gave the number.
Skoropadskyi studied the documents for several seconds.
—"You are still too dependent on imported equipment."
The Belgian engineer nodded.
—"That is exactly why we wanted to discuss mechanical production."
He opened new blueprints.
—"If the future factory in Yelysavethrad begins producing parts for agricultural machinery, part of your industrial equipment could be produced inside your own industrial network."
Petro listened carefully.
—"So one factory supports another?"
The French engineer smiled.
—"That is exactly how industry works."
Skoropadskyi pointed at the next page.
—"Expansion to thirty thousand tons."
The engineer immediately became more serious.
—"Technically possible."
—"What would be required?"
He pointed at the financial estimate.
—"A new blast furnace, expansion of the railway branch line, additional worker housing, and a new credit agreement with the bank."
Petro looked at the blueprints.
—"What if demand falls?"
The room became quiet for several seconds.
Skoropadskyi looked at his son.
—"Steel always finds buyers."
He continued:
—"Railways, bridges, agricultural machinery, construction, military contracts."
The French engineer added:
—"And exports."
Later they walked through the plant itself.
The noise was overwhelming.
Workers moved molten metal.
Sparks flew in every direction.
Petro watched the glowing steel.
—"I used to think the army was the most important thing."
Skoropadskyi looked at the blast furnaces.
—"An army without industry does not fight for long."
They stopped near the internal railway line.
A train loaded with metal slowly moved toward the main railway network.
Skoropadskyi said:
—"Grain creates capital."
He pointed in the direction of Kremenchuk.
—"Light industry creates stability."
Then he looked at the steel complex.
—"Heavy industry creates independence."
Petro remained silent for a long time.
Now he was beginning to understand how large the system his father was building truly was.
When they left the construction site, it was already dark.
They stopped near the railway station.
A massive freight train moved slowly along the tracks.
The wagons were loaded with grain, flour, and metal.
Petro watched the train for a long time.
—"I used to think wealth meant land."
Skoropadskyi looked at him.
—"Many generations believed that."
Petro looked back at the wagons.
—"Now I understand that it is far more complicated."
Skoropadskyi smiled slightly.
—"That is a good conclusion."
At that moment a railway employee quickly approached them.
He was holding a telegram.
—"Pavlo Petrovych, a message from St. Petersburg."
Skoropadskyi took the document.
He quickly read several lines.
His expression became more serious.
Petro noticed first.
—"What happened?"
Skoropadskyi slowly folded the telegram.
—"I have been ordered to report to the General Staff in three weeks."
Petro remained silent for several seconds.
—"So you are leaving again."
—"Yes."
He looked at his son.
—"But not today."
He looked back at the city.
—"And before that, we still have much to do."
Petro silently looked at the factory chimneys, the railway, and the moving freight train.
Now he understood far better what his father was trying to build.