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The Cursed Blue Rose
Ships are the whole point of Askaves. The city stands at a river mouth on the northern coast, boreal forest at its back and open ocean in front of it; the river brings down the timber, and the estuary gives sheltered water deep enough to fit out a hull and shallow enough to careen one. Slipways line both banks. Sawpits, sail-lofts, rope and pitch and the tar-smoke that hangs over all of it fill the ground between the yards, and the tide sets the working hours as firmly as any bell.
The elves of Askaves are a seafaring population in the practical sense — crews, shipwrights, pilots who know the bar at the river mouth in every state of the tide. The city was raised in the third wave of expansion and has been a naval station since, its yards building and its harbour berthing what the coast requires. Command sits with the Glac Dom, and the ships that come off these slips sail under its orders.