The Transience of Rebellion Part I: The State of Polity

III: THE PAINTER

17th of Johannar, 1197 SA

Eisehafen, Northwestern Port City in the Republic of Buerren

"...I understand Marie, I do, but it's all about context. If you're forced into an environment against your will, obviously you're going to close yourself off! Does that make sense? Marie!? Hello!??" Tom circled around her as the company of three stepped down from the ship onto one of many wooden piers making up the Port of Eisehafen.

The air here was full of pungent salt and fish, causing Marie's nose to shrivel up. In the distance, she saw the piers merge into a massive waterfront market pressed against a row of steel-walled fisheries.

"Maybe it'll help to think about it like this," Tom continued. "No one likes being shoved down a well, right? And even if you give people the agency to go down the well themselves, they might still hate it. But-"

"This metaphor isn't working in your favour, Tom," Marie interrupted, trying her best to multitask this conversation and the arduous process of pushing their luggage trolly off the pier without accidentally tossing it into the ocean. "Actually, it's barely working at all."

"Fine, then let me try another one. No one likes being shoved into a pool-"

"That's the same metaphor! You just made the hole bigger!" Marie yelled.

"You didn't give me time to think!" Tom retorted. "Lydia, help me out!"

Lydia sighed, smiling softly. "Marie, learning something that doesn't spark your immediate interest can be irritating. One way to alleviate the process is to give yourself agency in the situation. You are deciding to learn, the act isn't being forced upon you. Even if you are being forced, a change in mindset can almost trick you into giving yourself a false agency that achieves the same effect. If that doesn't work..."

"Then you could treat learning about the well as a preventative measure; in case you get pushed into it later and need to know how to get out."

Lydia and Marie furrowed their brows at Tom, who grinned at his contribution.

"And your initial argument was..."

"That you should let me teach you about boats," he replied earnestly. Marie groaned, pushing the trolley as hard as she could to get a few steps ahead and escape the conversation.

Tom slumped his head, glancing back at the Benevol as it faded into the background. "I don't understand what I'm doing wrong, Lydia. Boats are objectively awesome-"

"Ah, see there's your problem," Lydia interjected. "Nothing is objectively awesome. But everything can be made subjectively awesome. You have to sell it, Tom. Study your target audience and find out what resonates with them. Nothing sells on passion alone. Passion or crap metaphors."

Tom raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Did you just curse?"

"It's a new thing I'm trying. If I want my writing to resonate with the youth, I have to be vulgar like they are. See? Adapting to the target audience," Lydia said with a snap of her finger as the two ran to catch up with Marie.

- \\//\\//\\// -

Navigating the sheer density of Eisehafen took the band longer than they would've liked. The Benevol's registration under Senheisen meant it could dock in the more restricted North Port, but the journey was still a long one. Streets were eventually forgone in favour of emptier alleys between the brick townhouses that dominated the city.

Every so often, a small clearing at the centre of residential blocks allowed them to catch their breaths. But the frequency of such places diminished as they grew closer to the business district. Dealers, merchants, and tycoons clogged every space, only ever moving for the occasional horse-drawn carriage.