Of Swords & Crowns
The smell of fresh fish, rotten fish, fish on ice, and fried fish permeates the wharf district, along with the tang of sea air and hardworking, unwashed people. The buildings here are in relatively poor repair, and many of the shops are simple stalls or wagons. Those who come to do business can’t afford to send a servant or are servants themselves, and street crime is rampant. The slap of the waves, the calls of dockworkers, and the thump of unloading fish mingle with the cries of seagulls and other scavengers.