Stretching out a modest distance into the Citadel's large, calm harbour was a pier that was no longer used for shipping. Built towards the center of the boardwalk, Pier 17 had been outreached many yahren ago by the larger, more serviceable piers of the harbor after the moles were constructed to tame the unsettled waters of the Ocean. While most of the old piers were torn down, this one remained due to popularity due to tavern that grew upon it's broad, sturdy surface, a popular place open at all marks of the day and every day of the week, it's rosy, warm lights as familiar a sight to returning sailors as any lighthouse.
The tavern itself was unique in that it was constructed entirely of timber, as much from convenience as the potential dangers of weight. As such, it boasted only a single level with a sharp roof that towered up at a stern angle. A single chimney...for there was a stove within the building...rose well above the building itself, as much to protect the pier from its dangerous sparks as it was to protect the fires from the moist spray of the sea. A fresh coat of red paint covered the buildings past coats of paint, enough such that timbers themselves no longer displayed their grain. A broad pair of white double doors protected the entrance, though these were seldom closed or even noticed, and beyond these was a modest, brightly-lit taproom with a small, lacquered bar to the right and a half dozen snugs and tables to the left. Beyond these tables were another pair of doors, a magnificent pair made of stained glass set in iron that lead out to the Gallery beyond.
While there were a few tables located within the building itself, Pier 17 remained a popular eatery due to its magnificent covered porch. The Gallery, as the locals called it, was guarded on all three sides by a carefully crafted railing and imperfectly lit with the muted, amber glow of several brass lamps hung from the upper rafters such that the lights of the harbour were not diminished for the guests. Another small bar was stationed here alongside the stained glass doors that lead inside. A pair of short steps spilled out of the Gallery opposite the tavern building to the remainder of Pier 17, a popular place for evening walks or meetings.
Regardless of where one might be upon the pier, the odor of fresh, spiced fish cooking in the hidden kitchen was unmistakable, a marvellous smell that mixed with the fresh, sea air to leave the building with a relaxing and intoxicating scent. While a short, rotund man sat behind the inside bar of the establishment, he stared wistfully out one of the many windows of the building, watching the dockyard at work and leaving one of his employees…a petite girl of perhaps fourteen yahren with a considerably freckled face under warm, brown hair…to greet newcomer
Rosalie was wearing a dress of sapphire blue Condotierre colour, her hair and her ears and neck alight with sapphires and diamonds. She didn't hide her wealth, why would she accompanied that she was with her safety escort. Never less than six, Mio Amore, never less then six. She tried to repress her attack of sentimentalism. That spirit deserved no more attention, yet the memories pressed themselves upon her nonetheless.
Rosalie looked around the establishment and smiled, ready to impress whomever approached her. She was not here for any particular reason, but it might be nice to see who else showed up.