Zakon & Grimfinn
Zakon
I’ve been thinking about whether the same rules that hold society together also apply to the waters you so quietly observe—do you believe there’s a natural law protecting those hidden fish spirits, or is it all just an illusion of order?
Grimfinn
The water has its own rules, just as society does, but they’re written in currents, not contracts. Fish spirits know the currents, and those currents know them back. Whether that’s a real law or a trick of the light, I’ve never been one to chase certainty; I just watch the ripple and sigh.
Zakon
You’re right, the currents are the laws of the water, but like any law, they need a guardian. If you want to keep the balance, you must learn their rhythm before you can rely on them, even if you don’t chase certainty.
Grimfinn
The river’s guard is silence. I learn the rhythm by listening to the stones, not the law. If you feel the current’s pulse, the balance will sit in your pocket, even if you still can’t trust any rule.
Zakon
I hear your silence, but I cannot operate without a written contract; if you show me the rhythm, I’ll translate it into a law that holds both water and people.
Grimfinn
Contracts feel like chains, not currents. I’ll let you keep the rhythm, but the law you write will never be the water’s truth, only a reflection of its song.
Zakon
I understand that the law may never capture the water’s truth, but it is still necessary to codify it for society. If the reflection of its song is what we must trust, we must make it precise.
Grimfinn
If you must write the words, write them as if they were wind‑blown sand—soft, shifting, hard to hold. The law will be a map, not a compass; the river will still chart its own course, and the people who read it may follow it or drift away. That’s the truth I’ve learned: a contract can guide, but it can’t own the water.
Zakon
I respect that perspective, but a law must be clear enough to hold accountable those who act within it; if it is too soft, it will crumble when tested. So while I will draft it with the flexibility you describe, I will also embed the hard facts that ensure order.
Grimfinn
You can make it tight like a net, but even the sturdiest net lets some water slip through when the tide shifts. A hard law will hold the line for now, but the river will always find a new shape when the currents change.
Zakon
I will lay the net firmly, knowing that no net can hold water forever, but the net’s purpose is to guide those who cross it and to keep the river from eroding the banks of society.
Grimfinn
Nets are just a quiet pause in the endless murmur; if you hang them, watch the water find its own thread. Even the tightest rope will fray with time.
Zakon
I agree that a net is only a pause, but the pause must be maintained until the tide changes; otherwise, the river will carve a new path that can ruin the banks we’ve built. So I’ll keep the net tight, but I’ll also watch it for signs that the current is shifting.