Early morning, Barracuda Bay.
The sky had only just begun to brighten. Brilliant dawn clouds glowed beneath the rising sun, and radiance refracted through the morning mist, scattering down to cast rippling gold across the sea.
Compared to the noble lords in White Cliff District who were still deep in dreams, the commoners of Saltwater District had long since begun the day's work.
And as the true heart of Barracuda Bay, Breaking Waves Wharf was now at almost its busiest, liveliest hour of the day.
The briny stench unique to the harbor district filled the air. Sailors' curses, porters' work chants, vendors' cries, and the seemingly endless calls of Seagulls circling overhead gave the place a distinctive, vigorous vitality.
Her indigo wool dress swayed gently in the wind, its color deep enough to hide the inevitable stains picked up from taverns and the harbor.
The dress was not floor-length. It ended neatly about six inches below the knee, revealing delicate, fair ankles and a pair of dark brown flat-soled calfskin ankle boots.
Her steps could not be called particularly brisk, but she seemed extremely familiar with the harbor's surroundings. As her skirt rippled, those small calfskin boots had already skirted two puddles of unidentifiable Sewage, passed skillfully and easily through the crowded throng, and finally stopped before a sailcloth awning of faded oilcloth.
"Take a look at these! Fresh catch hauled up just this morning!"
With scales still stuck to the back of his hand, the fishmonger Tom casually lifted a sea bass from the wooden barrel before him. He let its struggling tail splash saltwater across his face as he called out, "A gift the tide brought for a hardworking, generous good soul like you. Have a look, esteemed Lady Hera."
Her long, curling dark green hair was still