The study remained quiet.
Heavy curtains moved slightly in the faint draft, while the fire in the fireplace cracked softly. The warm light reflected on the walls and on the large map of the Russian Empire hanging above the writing desk.
A single sheet of paper lay on the desk.
Three words were written on it.
Money.
Connections.
Army.
Pavlo Skoropadsky had been looking at those words for several minutes.
He knew the order was correct.
Without money there would be no influence.
Without influence there would be no army.
And without an army there would be no state.
He slowly rose from his chair and walked toward the map.
His gaze moved across the southern provinces of the empire.
Kyiv Governorate.
Poltava.
Yekaterinoslav.
Kremenchuk.
Kryvyi Rih.
Even in the memories he carried from the future, these places had enormous importance.
Here lay vast deposits of iron ore.
Here great metallurgical factories would later appear.
Here railroads would connect mines, cities, and ports.
The south of the empire would become one of its most important industrial regions.
But in the year 1900 that future had only begun to take shape.
That was precisely why action had to begin now.
Pavlo spoke quietly.
—"We begin here."
He returned to the desk and rang the small bell.
A minute later the estate manager entered the room.
He was a thin man in his fifties with neatly trimmed mustaches and attentive eyes. He had served the Skoropadsky family for many years and understood perfectly when his employer was serious.
—"You called for me, Your Excellency?"
—"Yes."
Pavlo gestured toward the map.
—"Tell me, which neighboring noble families own the largest estates?"
The manager thought for a moment before answering.
—"Several families, Your Excellency: the Lyzohubs, the Tarnovskys, the Kapnists, and the Halagans."
Pavlo wrote the names down.
He knew them.
Some of these families would later appear in Ukrainian political life. Others would become important figures in culture and public affairs. But for now they were simply powerful landowners.
He looked up again.
—"Which of them shows interest in industry?"
The manager considered the question.
—"Tarnovsky, perhaps. He has spoken several times about factories in the southern provinces."
Pavlo allowed himself a slight smile.
—"And the mines?"
—"Exploration is underway in Kryvyi Rih. They say the iron deposits there are extremely rich."
Pavlo nodded.
He already knew that.
Kryvyi Rih would one day become one of the largest metallurgical regions in the entire empire.
But most nobles still did not understand the scale of the opportunity.
—"Good."
He set the pen down.
—"Invite them."
The manager blinked with mild surprise.
—"All of them?"
—"Yes."
—"For what occasion?"
Pavlo paused for a moment before answering calmly.
—"For the baptism of my son."
The manager nodded.
—"Of course."
Pavlo added:
—"And invite my father-in-law, Mr. Durnovo."
The manager smiled.
—"I believe he will be pleased to see his grandson."
—"I am certain he will."
When the manager left, the study returned to silence.
Pavlo walked to the window.
The garden outside remained covered in snow.
But the sun had begun to rise higher, and droplets of melting ice were appearing on the branches of the trees.
He thought about the future.
Empires do not collapse only because of wars.
Sometimes they collapse because of economics.
Because of slow industrial development.
Because they fail to keep pace with faster, more flexible rivals.
Russia would not lose the war with Japan only on the battlefield.
It would lose in factories.
Japan would prove faster.
More organized.
More modern.
Pavlo returned to the desk.
He took a new sheet of paper.
And began writing a plan.
Mines.
Joint company.
Metallurgical plant.
Railroad connection.
Foreign capital.
French banks.
Belgian investors.
He wrote calmly, pausing occasionally to consider each line.
European industrialists were already showing interest in the southern regions of the Russian Empire.
But they required partners.
Men with land.
With connections.
With influence.
Pavlo spoke quietly.
—"Then we create a company."
He stood and walked back to the map.
His finger traced a path between two points.
Kremenchuk.
Kryvyi Rih.
If the mines were connected to the railways…
If a metallurgical plant were built nearby…
An entire industrial region could emerge.
He smiled slowly.
—"Then it will work."
Pavlo sat down again and began writing a letter.
The letter was addressed to Pyotr Durnovo.
He chose his words carefully.
There was not a single mention of politics in the letter.
Only business.
Opportunity.
Investment.
He wrote about the rich iron deposits.
About the possibilities of metallurgical production.
About the growing demand for steel.
And about the interest that foreign investors might show in such an enterprise.
When the letter was finished, he read it twice.
Every word had to appear natural.
An ordinary business proposal.
Nothing suspicious.
No grand ambitions.
Pavlo sealed the envelope.
Then he rang the bell again.
A servant appeared almost immediately.
—"Send this letter today."
—"Yes, Your Excellency."
When the door closed, Pavlo once again found himself alone.
He walked back to the window.
The snow in the garden had begun to melt.
Drops of water fell slowly from the branches.
Winter never lasted forever.
He watched the garden silently.
The memories of the future still lingered in his mind.
Revolutions.
Wars.
Cities destroyed.
Empires collapsed faster than anyone expected.
But sometimes they had a chance to change.
Pavlo spoke quietly.
—"The future can be changed."
He looked once more at the map.
If the industry of the southern regions grew…
If factories appeared…
If wealth and influence followed…
Then one day economic power could become political power.
His thoughts returned to a word that had begun to appear more often in his mind.
Ukraine.
Not merely a region of the empire.
A country.
He said quietly:
—"One day."
But now it was far too early to speak of such things.
For now everything had to look different.
An ordinary industrial project.
Ordinary investment.
Ordinary meetings among landowners.
Politics would come later.
Pavlo looked once more at the map.
And understood that today he had taken the first real step.
Yesterday he had received the memory of the future.
But today he had begun to change it.