(Arvin's POV)
"Come on, you swine! Gosh! These bastards piss me off!"
In the unassuming village of Trrekouta, the angry shouts of a flustered villager echoed through the morning mist.
Arvin, 28, red-faced and panting, chased after a muddy pig with a crooked stick in hand. "Back in the damn pen! You've got slop waiting, you ungrateful little—!"
The pig grunted and veered left. Arvin nearly tripped trying to follow. He was used to this kind of chaos. Most of the village was.
Trrekouta sat quietly near the base of the Alps, built on uneven stone and stubborn earth. On paper, it was nothing more than a weathered farming settlement with barely enough trade to survive. But that illusion suited everyone just fine.
Because beneath the tired routines and weather-worn faces, Trrekouta held its secrets.
The village wasn't loyal to the Empire. Not really.
It didn't wave rebel flags, or keep soldiers in uniform. But the local elder always looked the other way when people passed through with bruises and weapons. And every so often, the village baker "accidentally" over-prepared bread.
Trrekouta didn't resist. It endured.
With a final grunt of effort, Arvin slammed the pigpen gate shut and locked it. "There. You're lucky I haven't turned you into bacon."
He turned toward the path that led up the ridge, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
That's when he heard it.
A whistle—soft, drawn out. Three notes.
It wasn't a song, and it wasn't a bird. It was a signal. One he'd learned to recognize over the past few months, when strangers started showing up with fresh scars and tired eyes.
Someone was coming.
More than one, if he had to guess. And not smugglers, either. Smugglers were quiet. Careful.
Whoever was inbound was being watched.
Arvin glanced toward the center of the village. Already, a few others were looking up from their chores, interested in the drama disturbing their monotone life.
He sighed.
"Better get the spare cots ready," he muttered, heading back to his small cottage. "And maybe hide the good liquor."
He didn't know who was coming. He didn't ask anymore.
But if they made it all the way here?
It meant they'd been through hell.
And Trrekouta would offer them silence, shelter… and a place to breathe.
For a little while.