An orderly collection of packhouses in the harbour. The wharves is quite a boring district, devoid of life, full of lifeless trading goods. Packhouses and storeages are usually rented (apply to the harbourmaster). This way, traders invest a lot of gold to make sure none of their cargo gets lost, burned, or stolen * the wharves have the best trained guards in the city.
"They've stolen my oils, they 'ave," Fredrick says. "And them guards claim they ain't seen nothin'? 'Ow can that be? I wonder ow much they made on me load, those bastards."
Sites of interest include the storehouse, the basins, the granary. There is a small road leading into what used to be a factory grounds, but has somewhat fallen in disuse now - aside from the queue of people milling in front of the post office. It is an eerie place.