A silent conference takes place between the Bardbrooders as they contemplate your ephemeral offerings. You try not to roll your eyes at the very theatrical nodding of heads and furrowing of brows.
The second bearded man speaks the verdict. "You're a talented scamp; in that we all agree. The question is, are you talented in the way a beast can be taught tricks; or have you a mind inside, unafraid to put your words behind causes that matter?"
Spoken like someone who thinks it's easy to teach beasts tricks, you think, feeling a bit of dudgeon arise. "I've a mind."
"A mind, perhaps, but an independent one willing to dedicate itself to pursuit of posterity's enduring acclaim, and not just the disingenuous purrings of today's amused aristocrats?"
"What we mean to say is that we propose a test," says the other man, who even sounds alike to his bearded twin. "Use your talents to craft a written work with a satirical bent on a cause that animates you."
"Assuming there is one."
"Find one, and write to it," continues the man with a bit of a glare at his sharper-tongued doppelganger.
"Only, of course," the woman says with hand upraised, "if you can read and write."
You'd think that's the sort of thing they'd want to check first. You shake your head to yourself as they continue to explain their vision of the next steps.
Onward