Like there's any other choice.

The Council isn't giving you much of a choice. You mentally hit the ACCEPT button and the window goes away. You bow to the Council and say, "I will of course bow to the Council's judgment. It will be as you say."

While you're at it, you focus on the prompt that you minimized earlier at the start of the Council's judgment.

Congratulations! You have been given a new Epithet, "Lostlorn"! While acting under the auspices of this Epithet, you earn +10% experience from discovering new places and forging new friendships.

Experience from discovering new places? If that's a thing here, then why haven't you earned any for "discovering" the box canyon or this village? Even as you consider it, however, three new prompts appear.

Congratulations! You have earned 100 experience for discovering the Landmark, Aidan's Arrival.
Congratulations! You have earned 100 experience for discovering the Landmark, Little Roundtop.
Congratulations! You have earned 300 experience for discovering the Interesting Location, Starchaser Village.

Okay, so that's 500 experience. Presumably all of these happened before you gained your new Title, and so don't benefit from the extra experience. You wonder how much experience you need to level up, and to your exasperation and delight, you hear the sound of trumpets and a new, much more attention-grabbing prompt appears in your mind's eye.

Congratulations! You have advanced to level 2.

As a Chosen Helltouched Human, you have six Attribute points to distribute and your Willpower and Charisma increase by one. You also gain 25% advancement towards any one Skill. Allocate these within 72 hours or they will be randomly assigned. Honor thy Patron and follow thy heart!

Well. Well, well, well. You wonder how long that had been waiting for you. You really need to get a handle on this interface before you miss something truly vital. Even if you'd gotten that level up prompt when you first arrived in the Realms, though, you would still have plenty of time to distribute your points, so you corral your inner gamer and focus on what's going on around you for a moment. Fortunately, the prompts only took a couple of seconds to handle.

The Council are all standing. Fionn, Gerwyn, and Anwn are in a heated discussion with their backs turned to you; if you had to guess, Anwn is objecting to the way things just went and the other two are talking her down. Eilwen is heading towards a ramp at the back of the stage, and Ailis has walked up to the edge of the stage where she and Brighid are having a discussion in words too soft for you to overhear. Ailis reaches out and gently strokes Brighid's cheek, who holds her hand there for a moment before turning away and walking back over to you.

"Come, human, there is much to do and I would like the start our journey before the the sun has reached its peak." Her voice still holds no affection for you, but at least she's not contemptuous any more. She leads the way out of what you assume is the village's town hall and back into the sunlight. "I know they said your spear would be returned to you, but you will need a better weapon in Bannagh Macht. Our first stop is my forge so that I can properly arm you and retrieve my own equipment, then the granary to pick up supplies, then we will leave the village by way of Roark's place. He will have some upper body armor which will fit you and we can figure out something to do about your legs. You cannot wear armor meant for centaurs down there."

You follow her without hesitation. Clearly, she knows what she's doing. You file away the fact that she called it her forge for future reference, and say, "Thank you for what you said to the Council. I can tell that I'm not your favorite person, but I appreciate that you weren't willing to stand by while I was sent to my ****."

She waves your statement away with a gesture of her hand and responds, "You can thank me by helping to purify that den of evil. Make no mistake, if you die I will not mourn you, but I could not stand idly by while they made it sound like you were just being sent to rout a few goblins. I love Mama Eilwen, but I cannot imagine what possessed her or the others to send you alone. Even she should be able to tell that you are no warrior, and you cannot be such a masterful mage as to conquer that place yourself if Steffan's account of your camp is to believed. Even an Initiate mage would have known spells to ward his campsite and protect himself from the elements." Her tone is matter-of-fact, but her assessment of you stings, and no less so for being true.

"As painful as it is to admit, you are correct. I have no skills as a warrior at all, and my magic is quite limited. I am a stranger in a strange land and in far over my head. I understand that you are not doing this for me, but I am grateful nonetheless. I owe you."

She hisses and whirls on you, surprisingly agile for a nine foot tall creature who must weigh at least half a ton. "Swear no oaths to me, human. I do not want your debt." Her eyes blaze with green fire as she glares at you, and you raise your hands placatingly. A prompt appears in your vision, and your eyes widen as you read it.

Know this: You have acknowledged a debt of deeds to the centaur Brighid. Refusal to acknowledge or repay this debt will have grave consequences. Always remember, words have power.

You begin to apologize to the angry redhead, but something about the prompt makes you change your words at the last moment. "I beg your forgiveness, my lady, but while you may choose not to acknowledge it, I cannot. You have intervened on my behalf with the Council and may yet prove to have saved my life. I would not be true to myself if I turned a blind eye to that." You bow your head respectfully to her, but your words were said in a tone of quiet confidence.

Her face contorts for a moment as she starts to respond then stops several times, then she deflates with a sigh. "Very well, human -- no, Aidan. I did not act as I did on your behalf, but I acknowledge the truth of your words. I will accept your debt, but know that when I decide to collect, your pretty words will not save you should you refuse." She whirls again and sets off at a slightly brisker pace, no longer slowing herself down to accommodate your shorter gait but not forcing you to run to keep up like earlier.

Brighid leads you to a small house with a large attached open-air section, within which lies an anvil, a furnace, and other assorted tools of smithcraft. Unlike almost all of the other buildings you've seen here, this one is made of stone; obviously, putting a forge in a wooden building is a terrible idea. Brighid takes several spears from a rack at the back of the forge, sorting them and looking back and forth between you and them before finally putting all but one of them back. She hands you the spear she chose and tells you to wait and not to touch anything before vanishing into the house -- presumably her own home if the forge is hers.

You have found: Spear. Damage: 6-9. Reach: Extended. Attack Speed: Slow. Rarity: Common. Item Quality: Well-Crafted.

She is gone for a good ten minutes at least, and while you wait you decide to open your status screen and allocate your points. Given that it sounds like you're heading out on a dangerous quest, you allocate three points to Toughness for the extra health. The rest you spread equally between Logic, Intuition, and Willpower; your Charisma already got a big boost from learning Divine Speech so you decide it didn't need advancing this time. You decide to hold off on spending the Skill bonus for now; maybe you can convince Brighid to teach you how to use this spear.

After just a moment admiring your new stats, Brighid emerges from her house and your breath catches in your throat.

Where before Brighid had been wearing a shirt which was essentially a tight leather crop-top and little else, now she is armored head to shanks in brightly gleaming steel. A tall helmet adorns her head, leaving just her eyes, part of her mouth, and ears uncovered. Her hair is nowhere to be seen, presumably braided and looped atop her head under the helmet. Her neck is protected by a chain mail gorget, slim pauldrons grace her shoulders, a burnished breastplate -- properly shaped with no ridiculous boob-holders -- protects her chest, and fine chain mail covers the rest of her humanoid torso and arms. Her hands are guarded only by a single circular plate on the backs of each hand, leaving her fingers free. Her horse body is more heavily armored, with large curved steel plates lining her flanks like rows of shields and fine steel greaves wrapped around her legs. You can see a thick blanket-like cloth under the plates of her barding, presumably to help absorb impact and prevent chafing; she's probably wearing something padded under her upper armor as well. A pair of saddlebags are slung across her back, though no saddle is in evidence, nor would there be anywhere to put one. In her right hand she carries a long polearm with a wicked blade at the tip; your extensive video game experience labels it as a glaive.

When you first met Brighid she looked like a Playboy centerfold photoshopped onto the body of a prize race horse. Now she looks like a warrior goddess: fierce, powerful, and eminently capable. Just looking at her makes you suddenly feel much, much better about your prospects of surviving this quest.