While the bulk of the Citadels finer goods find places in the finer shops and markets of the wealthier districts, the Bower has slowly grown as the open trade market for the more mundane products harvested or imported from the seas. An open plaza in the harbor district itself, the ever-changing market bears merchants of more modest means selling imported grains, flour, ripe produce, and the freshest fish to be found in the Citadel, some of which still wrestle for life upon the rickety carts that only just arrived from the West Mole. Hawkers ply their wares here as well, their rough shouts offering goods either stored in nearby warehouses or, in some cases, still aboard the ships that brought them in.
While the Bower is a buzz of muted activity during the Morning and Tradetides, the activity here tends to die and drift away long before Eveningtide, leaving only a few idle travelers, hawkers, and entertainers to ply their trade for what handouts they might receive. In these marks, the small pubs and alehouses that ring the market are alive with rowdy sailors and dockhands willing to drink away the day's earnings.
Rosalie had stopped humming, instead she was now enjoying the hustle and bustle of the Bower Market, after briefly considering, but then rejecting the thought of going to the Burpin Dragon for a drink. No, she wanted to be out in the open air for now. The sights, the smells. Glad that her small leather pouch had been moved to the inside of her breeches, and secure in her knowledge that her dagger was in her boot and her rapier on her hip, the dressed up politician was enjoying the moment. She didn't need to buy a thing. Just being part of a press of people was fun.
Standing at one of the stands she tried to catch the general conversation of the people. After all she had come to learn as well as enjoy herself.