The Journal of Rhys Haley

22nd of Nets, 1800

As of today I, Rhys Danilo Haley, am 20 years old and decided to start a journal.

I have thoroughly grown tired of "The Tawn" and being the only son of "The Great Sailor and Merchant, Baron Quade Haley". Since I began at Roat three years ago, I've at least gone by Rhys and no longer "R. D." as I did at Driscol or Three Lillies.

My father, and his father before him, founded "The Haley Merchant Company". They established trading routes with Serkonos, the east side of Gristol, ventured north to Tyvia and Morley, sailing throughout the Isles.

While I, basking in their wealth, am I on a track to become a glorified bookeeper, with no reason to leave Baleton or the offices at the docks bearing my family's name.

There is no longer a need to sail to Wynnedown and parlay with the King's men.

I will never need to negotiate with the High Judges of Tyvia.

There is no use in scouting office spaces near the docks in Cullero, whilst being wary of bloodflies.

While I am on a course to be a wealthy individual, educated at one of the finest institutes in Gristol, the most of the ocean I will see is out the window of my father's office. All I will do is maintain a large fleet of ships and trading routes and never truly create anything. I am not sure if I want it or if it would even be a lifestyle that I would enjoy.

4th of Rain, 1800

Economics, Mathematics, Engineering, History. I am being groomed to take over an empire of ships, trade routes and negotiations.

Roat Institute, more specifically its professors, are leaving students stressed and with little sleep. While the competitive side of me enjoys the rivalry amongst colleagues, I don't believe my fellow classmates feel the same way, with their attention being drawn to The Bear Pit & Billiard Hall or feathery. The addition of being "Haley's boy" and having Orel, one of my father's assigned security, in the back of each classroom, haunting me throughout the academic buildings like a ghoul, not saying a word, only departing my company when I go back to my room... has become... tedious. He reports to my father daily. It is convienent for him both of them that one of the most infamous institutes for higher learning is in the same town as the business.

Though it is the Month of Rain, in the fading light, there is enough time to take the sloop out into Penrose Bay. While I enjoy feathery, and my twice weekly fencing class, as they allow me to compete with my peers and exert myself, solitude in the Penrose has been enjoyable.

19th of Rain, 1800

Today I went 27 off 22 before being caught out in feathery. My over-spin whilst bowling has become better as well. It was all good fun. We were playing the first years until our game was cut short. A few sailors on leave, who must've strayed too far away from the Dock District, decided to drunkenly stumble into the middle of the pitch and make a mess of it all.

One of them, who must have started into the festivities a bit later, realized who we were either from the Roat badges on our sweaters, or Orel, and promptly gathered his compatriots and left. As I'm finding out, the quiet Tyvian man with the constant expressionless face has quite a reputation. Or was it perhaps that we were all "sons of the aristocracy"?

It wouldn't be the first time myself and my collegues, dressed in full Roat regalia, have received odd looks. I'm assuming this is most likely because most of us have individuals like Orel accompanying us throughout different parts of our day and that our families can ensure trouble for anyone. I don't mind being safe but the opportunity to even talk my way out of a conflict will never be an occasion I feel I'll encounter.

26th of Rain, 1800

I was convinced by some classmates to accompany them to The Bear Pit & Billiard Hall today. Its namesake being taken from the chained bear versus multiple bloodhounds fights that used to occur before being outlawed. Today it services sailors, primarily of the HMC and offspring of the aristocracy like myself looking for mischief. The latter visiting for the spectacle whereas the former genuinely wanting a drink and relaxation.

Upon arriving, Radcliff "Rad" Dack, a classmate, saw a childhood friend. He mentioned that they both grew up together in Dunwall but lost touch when Rad came to Baleton a couple years ago. He heard her family had moved but was unsure as to where. They talked for a bit and I was introduced to Charlotte Ashwell. I can't quite place it as to why, but she's quite fetching. Wavy blonde hair, green eyes, in a high collared dress, garnished with a cape and large hat, which at the time was sitting on the table.

At first Charlotte did not seem much for wanting conversation and was vexed by the fact she was recognized by Rad. She was looking around, I assumed waiting for someone, perhaps a suitor, and didn't want to be seen fraternizing with two Roat boys still wearing their uniforms and baggy caps. She asked about Orel, I jokingly said he was an instructor at Roat. She let out a faint smile knowing that this was a blatant lie. I believe even Orel even paused a moment from his constant scanning to have a bit of a chuckle. I still haven't heard that man string togehter more than three words.

After a short amount of time, Charlotte left and I said I was pleased to make her acquaintance. I went to use the toliet and again, perhaps due to my Roat badge, a drunkard started walking towards me on my way out and ended up pushing me to the ground. His dirty, leathery face smelled of whisky and fish and his crooked teeth shown as he had a good laugh. Sailors not employed by the HMC, who want to be for the higher pay, I assume, are often frustrated while intoxicated and will spare no opportunity to get a bit of "justice". In no time at all, Orel came into the toliet, saw me on the ground and grabbed the man by the throat. The man immediately apologzing through coughs and getting on his way.

I went to Penrose. I thought about Charlotte's smile quite a bit.

2nd of Wind, 1800

How to make a feathery ball

Materials needed
  1. Enough bark is needed to form a core approximately twice the size of a wine bottle cork and formed into the same shape of one.
  2. Wrap yarn tightly around the bark core to form a ball approximately the size of an apple
  3. Four (4) hemispheres of leather are to be sewn tightly around the yarn ball, one (1) on each side creating two (2) layers of leather
Additional Notes

7th of Wind, 1800

I went for a walk around Baleton today. The dichotomy of the Rural District to the Dock District is quite appalling. Of course, Orel was at my side or behind me the whole time and I think he found interest in it as well.

I started at Roat. Its on the outskirts of Baleton to the southeast. More or less in the Rural District. I was able to take the canal as its only about half an hour's trip. The Rural District is removed from the organized chaos that is the docks and merchants of Baleton, the Haley Docks taking the largest amount of land by the water. Locked off from the general public with its high surrounding wall, give the "non-Haley-folk" a bit of a penned in feeling, I assume. Walking down there, everyone figured out who I was but not because they recognized me or anything... but Orel. They saw the wirey Tyvian and figured they best give me a wide berth.

The nearby buildings, calling itself the Business District, service the sailors and dock workers with its offices, hotels, brothels, small shops, pubs and the infamous "Baleton Great Market". There is no official Business District of Baleton but if things stay the course, I'm sure it'll happen.

The Great Market is an interesting one. Baleton, throughout its history, has been a small fishing town that became a large trading exchange port. With that, there are few permanent residents of Baleton, with more people renting hotel rooms than there are homes. Aside from the Haley Docks, there are very few buildings over three stories high where "The Great Market" is a four story building that stands out due to its glass top story.

My feet are sore from a long walk, though I was able to pay 3 coin for a horse drawn canal boat to take me back up to the Rural station. Nevertheless it was good to thoroughly see the city in which my surname and the Institute in which I attend are notorious.

12th of Wind, 1800

He speaks!

Orel and I had a long conversation today. Our first real conversation. He has been over my shoulder since I came to Baleton and this is the first real time we've conversed about anything.

He's a man in his late 40s, perhaps early 50s. Tall, slender but pure muscle and sinew. He'd be a great feathery player. He doesn't comb his dirty blonde hair but pushes it to the side as its just long enough to part on top, and is nearly skin on the sides, much like the military and sailors wear. He seems to always need a shave. Baleton is a land of rain and he always wears a high collared, double breasted, sailing jacket and boots. He's presentable enough for the most regal of company but dressed that he could fit in, in the slums of Baleton, being confused for a dock worker perhaps, probably a stevedore. His face is weathered, from what I can assume to be the years at sea. He's a good looking man though I don't believe he has any sort of partner.

According to him, he grew up in the slums of Dabovka. As most poor boys do, he ended up in bad company. In his case, it ended up being The Soots, a gang that acts more like a secret society. Originally started as criminals who were chimney sweeps, they progressed into knowing information. Thievery, con-artistry, trafficking and assassinations, all while hiding from the state officials and Operators of Tyvia. They did everything but have a street presence. You couldn't find them unless you knew their meeting places or knew someone who was a Soot.

Orel said he was, at one time, one of their top for-hire assassins but according to him, he killed the right person at the wrong time in the wrong place and needed to flee Dabovka, and Tyvia, and went looking for a boat.

He went to a captain Dade Yorston of The Haley Merchant Company, who went to my father and Orel to plead his case. For 20 years, Orel kept watch over my grandfather and father. When they stopped travelling and remained in Baleton, he oversaw security of the Haley docks until I came to Roat. Upon my father's request, he became my Protector, of sorts. This is why everyone stares wide-eyed at him. The head of security for the The Haley Merchanct Company's primary offices, a dangerous man, following around a boy from Roat.

He wields a knife that resembles a bear's claw. It has a handle, and a small hole you put your index finger through with the blade starting at your small finger instead of your thumb, tapering downward. Making a fist around the handle, he can slash and strike quickly in a ripping motion. It appears to be a most deadly weapon.

Orel may have had a couple drinks but was never threatening. I think the work he does, always being on guard, and having seemingly a second chance at life is something he's grateful for, but is constantly stressed.

I've always found him to more of an annoyance. Someone always there, watching over me. Now, I respect him sipmly by knowing him.

20th of Wind, 1800

I saw Charlotte again.

I had just left my quarterly meeting with my father, since I've been back in Baleton. It went per usual.

"How are your academics?
"I'm doing well... near the top of my class."
"Good. Still sailling?"
"Yes, just around the Penrose as always."
"Fencing?"
"Yessir."
"Hmmm... Any other hobbies? What's that one sport you've taken on?"
"Feathery. A ball and bat game. Its picked up some popularity in the rural parts of Gristol."
"As I've heard. Anything else I should know about? How's Orel?"
"He's well. Quiet as always. Other than that, nothing much else going on."

Cue dinner at The Gull's Nest, amongst other high ranking members of The Company and their families.

After dinner, I bid my father a good night with the usual stern handshake. I decided to walk back to the canal with Orel. A few minutes into walking down the hill, Charlotte was walking, alone, towards the restaurant . I introduced myself eloquently as "Rad's friend from Roat, we met at The Bear Pit". A small smile arose on her face and I would like to think that's a good thing, or perhaps my joke from last time came about?

We chatted a bit about Radcliff and I took a chance and asked her to join me sailing next week. To my suprise, she said "yes". It was a bit awkward with Orel just standing there, listening to every word but doing a poor job of acting like he wasn't listening... something he'll report to the Baron no doubt.

Regardless, I'm looking forward to next week.

22nd of Wind, 1800

"PROTESTS IN WYNNEDOWN!" read the headlines in The Baleton Flag.

The news, a couple weeks old, created a bit of a stir amongst the dormitories, some of the students coming from Morley themselves, with their "Nor'easterner" accents.

The conversation between Gristol, specifically Dunwall, and Morley and its capital, has grown more and more terse and harsh in Parliament. Lack of representation, taxes, military effort or lack thereof and what most concerns my father, and I guess... me, is how trade has drastically reduced.

From what I've seen regarding Morley exports, its a bit of an economical anamoly and I'm unsure how that occurs. The demand for Morley-based products has increased but the price has been capped by Parliamentry injunction... not allowing the Morley Trade Bureau to increase their base prices within Gristol.

A Morley apple costs about 2 coin. But as the demand doubles, so should the price. With the injunction, the price stays the same allowing apples to be cheaper for consumers but this has a ripple effect. In order to sell more, laborers are working longer hours for an overall cheaper price, soil loses its nutrients at a faster rate and overall... there seems to be a loss on multiple fronts.

My father, for all our disagreements and apathy towards one another, is a smart man. I'm sure he would have seen this coming as well, or had an advisor tell him. I'm curious as to why he lobbied for the injunction. Perhaps to carry favor in Dunwall?

I'm curious, and a bit concerned, as to how this plays out.

27nd of Wind, 1800

Orel and I met Charlotte at the entrance to the Penrose Bay marina. Roat being a bit inalnd, I actually forgot to ask Charlotte where she resides as it may have been an exhaustive commute. We made small talk as we walked to the sloop and quickly cast off while Orel stayed on land with his book and cigar. I had shown up a bit earlier to rig and stow away some bread, fruit and water in my canteen. I was able to knick some wine and cheese as well.

It was a great day for sailing. A warm sun with a light breeze. In lieu of my standard Roat uniform, I wore my sun spectacles (spectacles with tinted lenses, part of the new fashion of Tyvia starting to arise in Gristol), a light long sleeved shirt and vest, and matching pants. Charlotte was in a fitted pant suit with a greatcoat and boots. We never strayed more than a few hundred meters from land. I showed Charlotte how to make a turn and position the sails accordingly and I believe she enjoyed it.

We had our snack and as the sun started to set, headed back for the dock. As soon as I tied the boat up, Orel and another man approached Charlotte and I. He whispered something something to Charlotte and they left in a haste.

I was cordial, assuming this man is a security figure, and asked Orel as to why Charlotte was escorted off... he would not tell me. He then said I have a meeting with my father in a week's time regarding this encounter. As I don't know the full story, its quite confusing and I am unsure what I am in for.

I went home, read a bit for my academics then went to bed. A good day turned odd.

1st of Darkness, 1800

I do not konw what it is exactly but the whole of Roat seems sub par, at best, at the sport of fencing. While at Three Lillies, I won half of my matches on a good day. Three Lillies had solely ex-military instructors and carried a lot of ceremony. Here, it seems more like training young, rich boys to strike hard and nothing more. No emphasis on spacing, parries and proper defense, or most importantly footwork. We train in a series of strikes meant to end the match quickly.

We learn basic parries but ultimately, I already know these. Instructor Stiles ingrained into my head: For every strike, exists a parry. You need to find it and react quickly.

I wonder how she and others back in Pottershead are doing?

6th of Darkness, 1800

I didn't go to class this week and was promptly delivered a note by Orel, from my father stating "I didn't pay for you to sleep in a boat all week!".

I've been spending a lot of time in the Penrose reading various works by natural philosophers but focussing on Elijah Roat, the man who gave his name to the institute where I study.

Now, a century later, the works and observations that he made are common knowledge. Its difficult to believe no other individual had thought of and transcribed his findings. Tilling, soil mechanics, mass fishing equipment and a brief study of offshore whaling are just the surface of his works. He seemed to be a man, in a small town, curious about everything and wanted a solution for each and every problem he encountered, or to somehow make his life more efficient.

I'm not one for poetry but there are a few I enjoy.

(written into the side of a page...)
As I cast my net into the sea.
Beasts below lie and wait.
I wish for them peace of mind and tranquility.
Take your time dear dinner-mate.
For we will dine.
And enjoy our time.
Within the Penrose Bay.
- Elijah Roat, 1632

He was 20, as I now, when he wrote that.

His knowledge of turf and soil though is astounding. Knowing how to not exhaust soil, land surveying, water management and the grazing patterns of livestock are all thorough. None of these fields requires quick sucesses, all take time.

I would have liked to have met him, if only to see the drive in which he possessed so that I may absorb some of it myself.

20th of Darkness, 1800

When I walked into my father's office I had never seen that look of stress and consternation. I was not given any details but I am not to see Charlotte further. If I am to see her in public, I am to politely leave the situation.

She is apparently a removed noble in disfavor, her family once being part of the Empire somehow. My father would not go into further detail, even though I asked for more specificity.

This whole thing has me quite saddened. I believe Charlotte and I enjoy each other's company yet I cannot see her. While I will respect my father's wishes, at the same time I can protetst them, right?

27th of Darkness, 1800

I come home drenched from a leaking sky to more off-putting news...

There is discussion of a law in Parliament that would prohibit all trade and tourism travel with Morley. Arguments are currently over tarriffs, travel and exchange with the island. The artisans are upset that their products are reduced in value but not by means of the free market and now, any other forms of economic aid are being limited. I believe this is partially due to pressure from my father and others of his stature.

It is a concerning time as I have no idea as to what will come of this.

Some Morley classmates of mine are planning on returning home immediately. Others after the quarter ends.

2nd of High Cold, 1800

Such events...

The Quinn Hall steward, Mortimer, knocked on my door not too long ago. I am writing this so I don't forget it. To note, I have just heard the 3 o'clock bell.

Mortimer said that I had a guest in the parlor and that it was quite urgent. I asked if it was my father, to which he remained quiet but then simply stated that he would "accompany my guest until my arrival".

I put on pants and hurried downstairs, still in my night shirt, hair a mess and sleep in my eyes.

I jogged down the steps barefoot and turned left to find Charlotte, in one of her finest fitted dresses, sitting there, looking at me.

I was speechless, bewildered by the fact that not only the woman that I have strong feelings for is looking for me in the middle of the night but that the woman I'm explicitly forbidden from seeing is looking for me. My father's words echoing in my head, "You are to remove yourself from the situation". It was quite impossible at that point in time.

I asked Mortimer for some tea for the both of us and he left us though I know he would hear anything more than a whisper. Sound seems to travel farther at night, in a house of sleeping schoolboys and a curious old codger listening.

As I sat down, she asked how I was doing but actually remained quite quiet at the beginning of our conversation, avoiding small talk. I was a little annoyed not only because I'll most likely be reporting to my father for this but to be honest, I was exteremely tired and at that moment didn't have the patience for dancing around a topic.

She then came out and said it... Charlotte Ashwell is not Charlotte Ashwell. There is no Charlotte Ashwell. Charlotte, as I and others know her, is actually Sofia Olaskir, daughter of Larisa the Empress. She is heir to the Empire.

Larisa does not have an "official" heir and Charlotte Sofia does not know who her father is. She rarely sees her mother as while her current caretakers, the Ashwells, are acquaintances of the Empress, they do not have a valid reason to visit Dunwall Tower. She has been treated as a child to the caretaker family, as they didn't have a child of their own.

This is staggering news.

The last part of our conversation was of requests by Sofia. First, to keep this information private, which was not needed to be said but I understood her asking. Second, was that she would like to board a ship to Serkonos, specifically Bastillian, where the Ashwells have business, being of the merchant class. Knowing me being of the Haley name, I understand this request as well but I'm not sure how much pull I'll have with my father on the matter.

I told her I would discuss it with my father and asked if I have permission to inform him of her standing. She agreed.

We finished our tea and as it was very late, Sofia left in a carriage.

I've asked Mortimer to knock on my door as soon as Orel arrives, instead of him waiting for me downstairs, so that I may schedule with him an immediate appointment for my father.

4th of High Cold, 1800

I met with my father.

I am dumbfounded.

My father knew of Sofia. He knew of the Ashwells. In addition, he has been contributing to the fund for the Ashwells as well.

Apparently, with Sofia trying to get out of Gristol and have a legitamite place to live and work, the Ashwells are near broke. Their residence in Dunwall's Estate District a facade, it being near empty inside. They've heavily invested in fruit from Morley and with trade being amiss and light, so have been their coffers.

Coinicidentally, publically, my father has been a business advisor working with the Empress in order to cause the trade embargoes that effect Morley, effectively bankrupting the Ashwells.

It seems, my father in one hand, to carry favor in Dunwall with the fellow aristocrats is denouncing Morley. While privately, is meeting and aiding the Empress, making himself evermore the political figure.

Apparently he can syphon off enough funds without the bookmakers asking too many questions, by the end of the Month of Ice. That said, in Baleton that's an awful time to try and head south but it is not impossible... just a miserable journey.

Without funds of my own, there's not much I can do to help Sofia. My father told me to stay away from her as there are individuals looking for her. If they see a Roat boy, a Haley, spending time with Sofia, questions will be asked of our family.

23rd of Cold, 1800

After all the happenings at the beginning of the month, my past few weeks have been eerily quiet.

My term is about to come to an end. I should finish in the top 5 of my 30 person class at Roat, it depends on my final Economics exam. I've led all season in the weekly competitions we have in fencing. I'm still a pretty poor batsmen in feathery but have come a bit further in my bowling.

I haven't heard from or seen Sofia or the Ashwells. I do hope she is ok.

I asked Rad if he had seen her and he immediately gave me the schoolboy "Oh... fancy her do ye' Haley?"

I think about Sofia a lot.

2nd of Ice, 1800

I woke last last night (early this morning?) seeing fires off in the distance, coming from the Dock District and buildings nearby. More specifically, I heard Rad and others in Quinn Hall scampering over to the nearest window and then to view off the main terrace as it faces northwest.

Not long after Orel arrived at my room and and informed me that my father and others were alright and that the damage to the Haley Docks had been extremely minimal. The fires had been started with whale oil but as most of it is under lock and key, mass amounts are tough to get a hold of.

He did not have information on the residences nearby or how many people were injured but they took the brunt of the damage.

It was odd, and frightening, to see Baleton alight.

I'll remember to write more when I find out all the details tomorrow. I'm exhausted and the sun has already risen.

3rd of Ice, 1800

The fire was clearly arson.

Two small apartments in the top story of a residential building, a recreational sloop not too different than what I sail and a tugboat. Some loose building materials for walkways and the like were also lost and seemed to be used for kindling.

The Flag and criers are saying that its Morley sympathizers. With this, security has been increased in the Haley Docks and there's an uptick in police roaming the streets

The Bear Pit and other places will be a bit more docile for the immediate future, I presume.