Georgiy stood before his people, not taking his eyes off the forty individuals gathered in front of him. They were all ordinary people, simple, but ready for action. His face, young, with a determined look, reflected confidence. He spoke:
— We need points. There are many ways to get them. But for now... I will create a movement. We will be called "Patriots."
At that moment, an interface from the system appeared before Georgiy:
> Congratulations! You have created your own gang.
Reward: 500 points.
Georgiy pondered as he looked at the reward. Five hundred points was much less than he had expected. But then a new window popped up, as if it had read his thoughts:
> Your gang will earn you points every day. Initial amount — 10 points per day. To increase it, fame is required.
Georgiy thought carefully. He knew what had to be done to increase the amount of points. His look became resolute, and he addressed his people:
— So, folks. Winter is coming. It's getting colder, and we know how hard it will be for those who are unprepared. Your task is to go to the nearby villages and help the locals. Bring firewood for heating, help with the roofs, and whatever else is needed. Split into eight groups of five people and go to different villages.
He paused and looked at his people, waiting for a reaction.
— When the locals ask who we are, tell them we're from the "Patriots of Georgia." We help our own. Is everything clear?
— Yes, sir! — they all replied in unison.
— Great, then let's go.
After these words, Georgiy headed towards Tbilisi, intending to stroll through the market. His people, on the other hand, had already begun their task.
An hour later, one of the groups arrived in the nearest village. Upon inspecting it, it became clear right away — it was poor and would likely not survive the winter without outside help. The houses were old, with holes in the walls, and the firewood supplies barely lasted for two weeks. Around twenty-five families lived there. The group immediately headed to the only house that looked somewhat better than the others. It seemed to be the house of the village elder.
When the locals noticed the strangers, they became cautious. People rushed out of the houses and quickly divided into two groups: some ran to their homes, while others prepared to defend the village.
— Who are you? — shouted one of the men, approaching the group with an axe in his hand. — What do you want?
His face was tense, ready for a fight. But the answer surprised him.
— We are from the "Patriots of Georgia," — said one of Georgiy's men, stepping forward. — We've come to help. Help you survive.
The man with the axe scrutinized them carefully, then nodded. Under his gaze, Georgiy's people realized they hadn't earned full trust yet, but hadn't met open resistance either.
— Sounds good, — said the elder, standing aside. — But I'm curious, how are you going to help us? You don't even have tools.
— For now, we don't have them, so I must ask you to lend us some tools. An axe will do for chopping wood, — said one of Georgiy's men.
— Aha, aha, and then when we give you the tools, you'll run off. You're fooling others, — said the elder, preparing to end the conversation, when he heard the response.
— Then we can pay for the tools you have. We have some rubles, — said one of Georgiy's people, pulling out a money pouch.
— How much for one axe? — he asked, counting the money.
Hearing the question, the elder thought for a moment, then said:
— That's not for me to decide, but for the owner of the local workshop.
So, the so-called owner stepped forward, taking on a serious demeanor, and replied:
— 40 rubles each.
Upon hearing this, the elder looked at him with surprise.
— Saba, you've raised the price too much.
— Sorry, but we need money for food, — he said, looking at Georgiy's group. He had thought they would refuse, but their response surprised him.
— Unfortunately, we only have 100 rubles. Can you sell us three axes for that?
Hearing this, Saba nodded. After all, one axe was actually worth 15 rubles. When he took the money, he said one thing to the group:
— Thank you very much for buying them.
The reason was simple: with this money, they could secure food for the winter without cutting back.
Nodding and accepting the axes, all five without a word went towards the nearest forest, located three kilometers from the village.
— We probably won't see them again, — said the elder. He didn't believe they had truly come to help, but still, they helped them with the money.
But the next morning, to their surprise, they watched as Georgiy's group approached the village carrying huge logs. They were carrying so many that it would take one person to carry only one. Each was holding two logs, and many of them would have been out of breath with such a load, but not them. They simply came quietly and placed the logs in the center of the village.
Seeing this, many looked at Georgiy's group with gratitude, knowing that such a quantity of firewood would have been hard to cut and even harder to carry. They wanted to thank them, but they heard an apology from the Patriots.
— Sorry, we couldn't bring more.
Hearing these words, everyone felt regret for not trusting them at first. Especially the elder. He approached them, bowed his head, and said:
— I am very grateful for your actions and regret not trusting you at the beginning. Tell me anything, and I will do it.
He expected them to ask for shelter or food, but they replied:
— Spread the word about us to the other villages. That's enough for us to not be looked at with suspicion. We are not the only group from the Georgian Patriots that is currently operating.
Upon hearing this, the elder agreed and even sent a couple of people on his behalf to neighboring villages right after the request. He began to think:
— Patriots of Georgia, huh? How lucky I am to be alive to see this moment.