After the Sour Floods, the first Keepers persuaded several estuary villages to observe a shared pause in fishing. The catch did not recover at once, but the following season brought enough young fish back to make the rule credible. That success drew kelp-farmers and herbalists into the compact, and its duties expanded from catch limits to runoff channels, tide-meadow practices, and safe access through the lower fjords. The watershed moment came when an early commercial dredging crew cut through a nursery bed and left a channel that carried silt and foul water into the estuary. The Keepers shut the channel by hand, working through a night of cold rain while the damaged beds filled with debris. Their action saved part of the season's harvest, but it also established a precedent: the group would intervene directly when negotiation failed. From then on, shipping interests called them saboteurs, while villages increasingly called on them to inspect coastal works. As trade along Anemora's lower slopes expanded, the Brine-Keepers developed three branches: the boat-patrolling Tide-Wardens, the harvesting and care network of the Meadow-Stewards, and the covert Salt-Seals. The branches often cooperate, but their different methods have never sat comfortably together. Today the Keepers are influential in the fishing villages and estuary settlements, but they have no authority over Anemora's wider trade. Their power comes from practical knowledge, village trust, and the ability to make a damaged shore everyone's problem.

The Tide-Meadows Office stands above Kelpmead's wet ground on dark stone footings. Its lower rooms hold catch ledgers, water samples, and bundles of dried kelp; its roof is used to dry salt-grass when the weather allows. A tide board outside records water height and closures in broad strokes of green and white. When the estuary wind turns, the whole office smells of brine, mud, and crushed herbs.