The capital, if Enavadi can be said to have one. Edkovic is the largest settlement, perhaps five thousand souls, but it feels like an overgrown fishing village that happens to host the government. No walls protect it. No monuments celebrate past victories. The architecture is practical: wooden buildings clustered around an enormous harbor complex, everything oriented toward the sea.
The Great Docks stretch for miles along the waterfront, a maze of wooden piers, boathouses, and chandleries organized by an elaborate system of family berths that outsiders find incomprehensible. Each extended family maintains hereditary rights to specific dock sections, passed down through generations. Disputes over berth boundaries have occasionally ended in violence, though the net-councils usually resolve such matters before blood is shed. A handful of those hereditary berths belong to Chargon families, who dive the harbor mouth to clear fouled lines and lost gear, and to Drachma crews who married into the fleet and never left.
The Smoking Halls dominate the town's interior, massive communal facilities for preserving fish. The smell defines Edkovic. Visitors notice it immediately and never entirely stop noticing. The smoke-scent clings to hair, clothes, and skin for days after departure. Locals claim they can identify which village a person comes from by the particular character of smoke in their clothes.
The Stranger's Quarter occupies a single district where outsiders may stay, eat, and conduct trade. It is clean, adequate, and utterly without warmth. A low stone wall, symbolic rather than defensive, separates it from the rest of Edkovic. Outsiders who venture beyond this boundary are not physically prevented, but they are watched, followed, and made to understand they are not welcome.
The Empty Temple stands near the Stranger's Quarter, a stone building with no god's name carved above its door. A missionary from the Middle Sea raised it three centuries ago, convinced he could bring foreign faith to these simple fishing folk. The Enavadi let him build it. They never entered. It has been a warehouse for dried nets for two hundred years, and the missionary's name has been forgotten.