The Whiteoar House

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Close to Piers' End in Everway harbor lies what was once a great estate. Now nameless, it sits on a small rise. The forest beyond the city is visible from its sad arbors. The exterior is now shabby, and the arbors have gone a-bramble. A clue it its once proud owners sits by the front door: An old oar, badly weathered its white paint almost all chipped off. It once hung above the door of this estate.

From time-to-time, passers-by spot a weathered old salt puttering slowly make his way up the front steps to the door. Over his shoulder he carries the day's catch of fish. Sometimes instead he struggle along a with wooden bucket, sloshing water as he takes each step up to the house.

Sometimes, one or two children or youth will follow him carrying a greater catch of fish or several buckets. On those days, the homeless children of the port will feast with him in the great dining hall. There will be fish, mussels, lobster, and crabs.

After the old man has prepared the feast, he will sit at the head of the table. As they feast, the children will tell the old man the stories they have heard around the city: gossip about the great houses of Everway,  the movements of Strangers and soldiers around the city, and the comings and goings of Outsiders through the gates.

Long after the children have left, the light from a single candle will flicker in one of the upper rooms of the house. The next morning, the old man will make his way back to the piers, find his fishing boat, and row out into the harbor. Hardly anyone will give a thought to the bottle he carries with him to the harbor. It has a cork with a wax seal, and papers within its green glass walls.