The Old Advisor brought out his enchanted spectacles, though to compare this masterfully crafted {Convert} enchantment successfully consolidated in a non-traditional medium, and one of the uninspired post-waning enchantments is almost disrespectful to the understanding of magic, much less to the discipline of enchantment.

The script upon the sickly green plaque pulsated as the Old Advisor looked upon it. Though he did not read the physical writing, rather he ‘read’, for a lack of a better term, the very currents of magic that formed the lattices that underlined the script.

“When I was a boy the very idea of lattices and construction in magic would be met with a firm caning, and now they make world defining spells out of such limiting methods.”

“I- “

“Though the lattice almost has a background of the beautiful magic from yesteryear, there even seems to be hints of the To-Sua methodology.” The Old Advisor continued over Dame Magda. “If whoever created this curse had a semblance of common sense, they would have allowed to naturally develop around their created prophecy, rather than try to force the two distinct parts too fit a mould.”

“Your Ex- “The Dame attempted began to point at something.

The Old Advisor grabs her calloused hand out of the air and drags it over the plaque, “You feel?” The Advisor asks as the green light slithers its way up Magda’s veins.

Her body goes jumping back and her sword is drawn, all the while the now darker green light jumps back into the plaque, which then pulsates numerous times.

“Please my good Dame, a mere experiment, and act that has done more the Empire than has been done in years.” The Advisor offered, as the Dame’s face warred through emotions before settling.

“Of course, Your Excellency.” The Dame of the Dawn Empire said with practiced efficiency.

“So, from that reaction, this curse is firstly, actively enacting something upon the physical world, and secondly, it has at the very least, been fiddled with in this modern era.” The green sickly light crawled upon the walls as the plaque continued to pulsate. “The only beings who could do this are the Witches of Croagh, now tell me Dame why it is not that infernal group of witches.”

The Dame pausing for a few moments inspected the plaque for a few moments, “Your Excellency, my education is clearly lacking beneath your magnificence, but I would propose that it has something to do with the formulaic methods of magical that you enlightened me upon.” The Dame spoke once again with practiced ease.

One of the better ones, at least compared to the other coddled children. This new generation is so very disappointing “Ah, yes.” The Old Advisor spoke dragging himself out of his thoughts. “The point is of course, is that, yes, it’s that there is at least another individual fiddling with this curse, whether it is they are doing it personally or even that the traitor is sneaking the Croaghan’s into the Palace.”

The light now writhed around the room, its energy growing, almost as if it was trying to envelop the two in its sickly green embrace.

“Your Excellency we should return to the throne room.” The Dame warring between two choices.

“A few more moments good Dame, now I have been investigating this danger for a few years in my own time, of course with my David commanding me, I find myself stuck in uncovering the traitor.”

There was barely a sliver of darkness surrounding the two now, the Dame’s sword drawn, the sickly green light reflecting of the blade, her eyes wide as she lifted the Advisor over her broad shoulders and prepared to run.

“Not yet Dame Magda, not yet.” The Advisor shaking upon the even more turbulent body of the Dame, who twisted and turned as the sickly green light encroached ever closer.

The light collapsed upon the two.

Yet they stood unmolested, the light passed around the two as if they were not there, not writhing inside, not infesting, not devouring, simply passing.

The sickly green light abated, and the room was in blessed darkness once more.

“Is this the plan?” The Dame said gesturing at themselves, the abated light, and the plaque.

“Dawn above, you are remarkably bright Dame Magda.” The Advisor exclaimed, “You must tell me how you were allowed to work as a lowly guard.”

“Prince Ioan has… particular requirements to reach positions of prestige, and I did not want to fit into those requirements.” She still spoke with practiced efficiency.

“Forgive me good Dame, for allowing our glorious Empire to devolve like this, and enough with that tone.”

“Your Excellency?” Her voice finally with a fleck of emotion.

“Call me Peter, you are trustworthy and competent, and principled, one of the few still left alive in these dark days. You have a key role in the preservation of the Dawn good Dame. You must behave in a manner that befits that responsibility.”

It had been many years since the Old Advisor heard their birth name spoken aloud, or even allowed to exist in thought, though they did not find this to be so bad, for the Old Advisor had long since felt a certain disconnect with that name.

Still sacrifices had to be made for the good of the dawn and handing over their name to Dame Magda was just another sacrifice in a long list of sacrifices.

Her eyes peer out of the darkness at the Old Advisor for a few moments, then she speaks, “Peter,” mulling their name through her mouth, “We shall be testing people in this chamber correct.”

The Old Advisor nods letting her speak.

“And if the light does not react to them, then we must assume they have had prior contact with the curse.” The Dame finishes.

“Correct, though I must admit I did lie about the description of the ‘curse’, rather it seems to be a set of conditions that must be completed for the spell to come to fruition.”

As the last of the sickly green light dimmed the Old Advisor and the Dame began to walk out of the cavern, their steps echoing in the dark.

“What are these conditions, Peter?” The Dame spoke, the Old Advisor’s name

“In short, this system is a product of the spell work,” the glow of the plaque now barely visible from the hidden passage, “at first we theorized that it was a clear cut way to measure oneself, physically, mentally, it even categorises magic, though you know how I feel about that,” the hidden passage closes back up as the Dame pulls the broken spear out of the indent, “nonetheless, there seems to be a second part to the system, or rather the initial spell was only half complete, and someone in the last two decades have been rewriting the conditions needed to fully implement the system.” The Old Advisor paused as they began to huff up the steps, “I will not bore you with the myriad of conditions, just know that there are two conditions left until the system comes into fruition.”

“And what are these conditions.” The Dame repeated more forcefully.

The Old Advisors throat tightened up, the words being forced through their throat, “I-I do not truly know what the practical affects needed to trigger the conditions, primarily because the written text deviates from clear binary choices, into a more interpretative form of- “

“Peter, please I do not need to know why you don’t know.” The Dame interrupted her voice soft as if it was holding fragile artwork.

“No. No I do know, it is merely the form of the writing that allows interpretations that are confounding me, for- “

“Your Excellency.” Interrupting once again.

For a few moments the long winding staircase was silent, as the Old Advisor stewed on old shameful memories, when he was a child the state of unknowing was seen as anathema to all that was good in the world; even decades on from their childhood they could still feel the pain in their nape from the punishments. Mayhaps the pretend knowledge of yesteryear led us to this terrible future, so the Old Advisor spoke with no pretensions for many years.

“I shall repeat the exact wording to you Magda, and we can work it out together, if that is acceptable of course.” The Old Advisors voice shaking along the dark stairway.

“Of course, it is.” The Dame responded her voice firm, powerfully reverberating across the thick stones.

As the Old Advisor opened their mouth to speak, the very threads of reality began to adopt a tinge of iridescence.

“For the tree cannot germinate in the rock, nor the tree sprout through a tree, neither can the tree grow without the downpour, yet what is a tree without the being to call it so?” The Old Advisor paused for a half breath, “The rock must be shattered, the tree will be felled, the downpour shall flow, and the world must beg for the fruits upon the branch. Then, and only then shall the tree bloom in its fullest.”

The multitude of iridescent threads of reality snapped back to their natural unseeable state, as Dame Magda opened her mouth to speak.

A scuff from the walls interrupted.

The Dame held her tongue as she locked eyes with the Old Advisor, and she mouthed “the Mantis”, her normally cool expression taking on a hint of fear.

The Old Advisor remembered facing foes much greater than the purported Mantis, the Old Advisor also had reservations about the veracity stories surrounding the Mantis, though they could admit grudgingly that this Mantis character was quite proficient at establishing a reputation, outside of that particular aspect of intrigue however the Old Advisor could only compare the amateur methods of the Mantis to the puppet masters from before the great war, still, out of respect for the Dame’s feelings they nodded, and walked in silence for a few moments.

“Your Excellency,” the Dame’s tone returning to its guarded origin, “while you look into gathering more gardeners of course, I shall l-do some botanical studies, especially in uncovering the steps needed to grow the tree.”

Gardeners, quite quaint but I believe the name shall stick, the Old Advisor thought in the silence, “Of course good Dame, I should expect a report in a few days, correct?”

“Yes, your Excellency.”