Saltcliff is a town where the wind always whistles through the narrow streets, and seagulls consider themselves more important than any authority. The old fort on the cliff keeps crumbling into the sea piece by piece, but the townsfolk insist it “stands on stubbornness and fishermen’s songs.” Polly grew up here—among storms, the smell of salt, and endless sailors’ tales.

Saltcliff lives by the sea. Fishing here is not just a job, but a way of life: catches are dried, salted, smoked, and sold on every corner. Beyond fish, the people are famed for shipbuilding—you can always spot someone repairing an old vessel or launching a new one in the harbor. The local markets are true treasure troves, where a basket of pearls might sit next to a rusty anchor or a scrap of sailcloth from some faraway shore.

The weather in Saltcliff always has a temper. Almost every day the winds blow hard, and the rains are frequent but quick, leaving behind crisp sea air. In winter, storms rage so fiercely that residents brace their homes with planks from the inside so they won’t be carried away by the waves. In summer, the town fills with the scent of iodine, salt, and fried mussels—and even the seagulls seem content.