Successful Mission

[Brian]

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have your discussion here?" Radagast asks mildly.  "If it's personal, I understand."

[Bjorn]

Bjorn looks at Lindsey and raises an inquiring eyebrow.

[Brian]

"I think a greater degree of privacy would be more warranted," she says slowly.

[Bjorn]

"I think you're most likely right," Bjorn says, shrugging.  "Very well, Master Radagast.  I'll be back within two hours.  We'll be near Lord Ekim's forge."

Bowing his good-byes, he leaves and reclaims his sword.

[Brian]

The other vassals follow you, as you leave.  Lindsey says nothing until you're outside of Ekim's forge.  Her vassals linger, remaining within visual range, but not earshot.

"So," she murmurs, once you find a spot to stop.  "Now what?"

[Bjorn]

"Another excellent question," Bjorn says, keeping his tone low.  "At the risk of seeming puerile, you started this conversation.  What are you looking for?"

[Brian]

"Do you know why you're here?" she asks, answering your question with another question.

[Bjorn]

"There are several levels to that question," Bjorn points out.  "Broadly speaking, yes.  You?"

[Brian]

"Of course," she says, relaxing.  "And now that that's settled, I'll trust you not to get yourself killed while we take care of things?"

[Bjorn]

Bjorn looks at her with a raised eyebrow.  "I should point out," he says, with more than a touch of irony, "that while I know why I'm here, I don't know why you're here.  Or rather, I have my suspicions, and if I'm right, then no, I'm not going to let you 'take care of things.'"

[Brian]

She rubs at her temples, and looks like she's trying to hide a lot more annoyance than she's letting through.  "It's fine if you actually don't know why you're here, too," she says.  "Now, I'm going to say some things.

"These are things you've suggested that you already know, so it's all going to be old news.  But I think it's for the best that I say them anyway."  She gives you a challenging look.

[Bjorn]

"Please do."  Bjorn shrugs.

[Brian]

"Right," she says, slightly put off.  "You got here first, and threw up such a freaking smoke-screen of exposure that the Seventh Cabal was forced to withdraw all of their checks and security measures from around Gibraltar.

"Because of that, and the fact that everyone in the area who works for the Seventh Cabal is now trying to cover up whatever you left behind in France, there's a huge mess.  You slip in, and enter the dream of Earth.

"You got there about a day ahead of us.  And, this kind of sucks, but you also get the 'good' goal.  Which is just as well -- you'd fail abysmally if you had our job.  This world is doomed -- the Seventh Cabal saw to it that it would be crushed behind them.

"So your task is obvious.  You have to reverse that.

"This world can't accept someone trying to reinforce an existing fate, though.  So our goal isn't to help the Dreadmarch.  Our goal is to make sure you stay alive long enough for fate to be averted, and to see the Dreadmarch destroyed."  She blows out a puff of air, not quite a sigh.  "And if your oracle wasn't lying to you, you'd know this."

[Bjorn]

Bjorn crosses his arms, looking off into the distance while Lindsey speaks.  He's silent for a while after she finishes, lost in thought, before he nods, and turns to face her again.

"Well, then," he says, briskly, but still quietly.  "Let's try some honesty.  Our Oracle was not very informative; her imprisonment wasn't easy on her.  We've been working on what she could tell us, plus what we learned from the Guardian.

"But, frankly, from what they have told us, it doesn't quite line up with your version of the story.  And so I have to ask: why should I believe you?"

[Brian]

"You're not a trusting person.  I doubt you even fully trust your own allies.  And I'm reasonably sure that any investment I made in trying to win your trust would be a wasted effort.  In all honesty, I don't feel the need to get you to trust me -- not knowing that.

"Since that's the way it is, all I need is for you to stay out of our way, while we stop the Dreadmarch," she finishes, shrugging, and eyeing you calculatingly.