The road to Kremenchuk took almost the entire day.
The carriage moved slowly along the Dnipro. An autumn wind pushed dry grass across the fields. At times the road passed through small villages where carts loaded with sacks of grain stood beside the houses. At crossroads they met long wagon trains heading toward the railway or toward the river piers.
Sometimes along the riverbank they could see barges pulled by horses. They moved slowly with the current, loaded with grain, flour, and timber.
Oleksandra sat opposite him and looked out the window.
—"I haven't been to Kremenchuk in a long time."
Skoropadskyi smiled slightly.
—"The city has changed a lot."
—"Because of the railway?"
—"Because of that as well. But even more because capital has begun flowing into the region."
The carriage climbed a small hill.
Below them the city opened into view.
The Dnipro flowed slowly along the bank, raising small waves. Barges and several river steamers stood at the pier. Dockworkers moved sacks of grain onto wooden platforms along the embankment.
Farther away large warehouses could be seen, along with long rows of carts.
Several steamer funnels rose above the pier, releasing dark smoke.
Behind the warehouses stood the roofs of trading houses, mills, and granaries.
Oleksandra leaned closer to the window.
—"The city has grown."
—"It will grow even more."
Skoropadskyi watched the river for a moment.
—"River trade and the railway meet here. From here grain moves south toward Odessa and Mykolaiv."
The carriage began descending toward the city.
The closer they approached, the more lively the port became.
Dozens of barges stood along the pier. Workers carried sacks, barrels, and crates. Merchants watched the loading, argued about prices, and wrote figures in their ledgers.
Nearby stood the warehouses of foreign trading houses.
On one sign was written:
"Levinson Brothers Trading House."
A little farther stood a building with a French sign.
Kremenchuk was becoming an important commercial center.
After some time the carriage entered the city.
The streets were busy. Merchants spoke outside their shops, workers rolled barrels along the stone pavement, and carts slowly pushed through the flow of people.
Somewhere nearby blacksmith hammers rang.
In the distance the whistles of locomotives could be heard.
The city lived from trade.
Skoropadskyi watched the streets calmly but attentively.
Kremenchuk occupied an important place on the map.
The river.
The railway.
The grain trade.
Goods from the central provinces flowed here, and from here they moved farther south to the ports or to the large cities of the empire.
A few minutes later the carriage crossed toward the left bank, closer to the river.
There, behind a line of warehouses, lay a plot of land.
Work had already begun.
Several dozen workers were unloading bricks. Masons were laying the foundation. Nearby lay long beams, boards, and wooden crates containing machinery.
Horses pulled wagons loaded with sand and lime.
A man in a dark coat approached them.
—"Pavlo Petrovych."
—"Good afternoon."
The man removed his cap.
—"The foundation is almost finished."
Skoropadskyi looked across the construction site.
Long trenches stretched across the ground. Masons carefully laid rows of brick.
—"When will the walls begin?"
—"In a few days."
The man pointed toward the river.
—"We chose this place deliberately."
Skoropadskyi looked toward the bank.
The Dnipro lay only a short distance away.
—"Barges will be able to approach the warehouse directly."
—"Yes. Grain can be delivered by river."
Oleksandra looked across the site.
—"And the flour?"
—"By railway."
The manager nodded.
—"The station is nearby. We have already arranged an additional loading platform."
He pointed toward the railway tracks in the distance.
—"Freight wagons will be able to approach the warehouses directly."
They slowly walked along the foundation.
Workers continued laying bricks. The sound of hammers and the creaking of carts mixed with the noise of the river.
After some time another man approached them.
A short man with a neat beard held rolled drawings in his hands.
—"Pavlo Petrovych, I am the engineer from Kharkiv."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"Show me."
The engineer unrolled the blueprint on a wooden crate.
A plan of the building was drawn on the paper.
—"The main building will be here. Grain warehouses will stand along this side, packaging rooms for the flour will be located here, and the boiler house will be built in this section."
Oleksandra looked at the drawing.
—"How much grain will the factory be able to process?"
The engineer thought for a moment.
—"About forty tons per day."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"That will be sufficient for the beginning."
The engineer added:
—"If necessary, additional machines can be installed. In that case production could almost double."
They continued discussing the details of construction for some time.
They spoke about steam boilers, engine power, and the number of workers required.
At that moment a merchant in a long coat approached the construction site.
He bowed politely.
—"Pavlo Petrovych."
—"Good afternoon."
—"I heard you are building a flour mill."
—"That is correct."
The merchant smiled.
—"Flour sells much better than raw grain. In Kyiv and Odessa good flour already sells for nearly twice the price of grain."
Skoropadskyi nodded.
—"That is exactly why we intend to produce it."
The merchant looked toward the river.
—"Then you chose the right place."
—"All the roads meet here."
The merchant agreed.
—"Kremenchuk will grow."
After some time he left.
Skoropadskyi walked toward the edge of the site.
From the bank there was a clear view of the Dnipro.
A barge moved slowly along the river.
He watched the water and imagined how the factory would work.
Barges bringing grain.
Warehouses filled with sacks.
Flour loaded onto railway wagons.
Trains traveling to Kyiv, Kharkiv, and farther south toward the ports.
Trade would grow larger every year.
Kremenchuk stood at the center of many roads.
From here influence could spread across the entire region.
Oleksandra walked up beside him.
—"Are you satisfied with the location?"
—"Yes."
He looked toward the river.
—"All the roads meet here."
She remained silent for a moment.
—"You are always thinking about the future."
Skoropadskyi smiled faintly.
—"Someone has to."
For a brief moment another thought crossed his mind.
If the future truly turned as dark as he remembered, he would need allies.
The old nobility could no longer remain scattered.
Sooner or later it would be necessary to unite people capable of holding the country together when difficult times came.
He looked once more at the river.
Work at the construction site continued.
The future often began in places like this.