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Maire Virtanen takes 20 goods, 7 thralls, and 5 kerns with her on a journey to Clan Vendari's territory in hopes of forming an alliance. Meanwhile, her supporters in the tula continue to encourage their kinsfolk to speak out against Eliz.

Aftermath

"More petals," Maire said as she swirled her warm bathwater around with one pale, chubby hand. Gwendolen, who was sitting nearby with a bowl of bright yellow starflower petals on her lap, nodded and put an additional handful of petals into the large stone basin. The sickeningly sweet smell filling the chamber intensified and Maire let out a contented sigh, closing her eyes and trying to relax. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she'd had a chance to collect her thoughts and consider recent events. Without a doubt, Clan Aonghus was struggling to survive in the Hidden Valley, and it was only a matter of time before the clansfolk started looking for someone to blame.

The thought made Maire frown and she shifted her considerable bulk into a more comfortable position in the tub, which caused several streams of scented water to dribble onto the wooden floor. Thankfully, the alchemist had created a solvent she called sciath that was specifically designed to repel water and prevent wood rot. She'd only managed to brew enough to give the floorboards of her home a single coat, though. Maybe it was time to start gathering the necessary ingredients to make more? Apart from rich food and fine clothes, Maire loved nothing more than improving her shack in ways both large and small.

Despite its small size, Maire had found a way to make the most of the hut several hardworking craftsmen had built for her shortly after the clan settled in its new home. The main room was large enough to hold a fire pit and everything anyone could possibly need as far as a kitchen and dining area were concerned. The craftsmen had even constructed an ingenious pulley system that raised a durable canvas flap built into the roof of the house, which ensured nobody suffocated when Maire used the fire pit. The urlandi woman didn't mind the smell of wood smoke, but she also understood the importance of taking the likes and dislikes of her guests into consideration. In addition, Maire's home had a sizable larder, a small chicken coop, and three well-maintained backrooms. One of these chambers contained the trapdoor that led down to her underground cellar, another had been converted into a bedroom, and the last one was just the right size to accommodate her granite wash basin. Maire's Mansion was bursting at the seam with her personal effects, not to mention countless treasures from Urland, but it was sufficient for now.

What was not sufficient, however, was Maire's response to Eliz's disrespectful and snide comments. The remark the scarred bitch had made about the Barrows and 'avenging our fallen following the previous little mistakes that had been made' was infuriating. True, the wording made no sense and reinforced Maire's belief that Eliz was a simpleton, but the sentiment was clear. Maire had made a mistake.

What made it worse was that Eliz wasn't wrong. The Barrows incident was a blight on Maire's otherwise pristine, if somewhat changeable, reputation. And then, like a gift from the Tuad Rithe themselves, Eliz's rash counterattack against Clan Greenfeather had failed spectacularly. Two gallocmen and two kerns had been sent to Camvor. Furthermore, the loss of seven horses was a bitter blow to Clan Aonghus' meager herds. In the wake of the vicious assault launched by Clans Nightfell and Greenfeather, Maire's supporters had gathered at her shack in hopes of receiving guidance. Many of them were concerned, wondering if those who praised Eliz for repelling the initial assault were right. Maybe Clan Aonghus needed to embrace savagery and bloody vengeance in order to prosper.

Maire grinned wickedly and swatted a starflower petal out of the tub as she recalled the rousing speech she'd given to her followers, encouraging them to open their eyes and see the temporary nature of Eliz's victory. Aided by dour Garrick Derval and bold Tristan Jory, the alchemist had persuaded her allies to put their faith in her vision for Clan Aonghus' future. One that didn't rely on violence and intimidation to solve their problems. One that unified the Hidden Valley's disparate clans into an unstoppable force with Clan Aonghus at the forefront. And one where Eliz Sala did not sit on the Council. 

Her kerns, led by Garrick Derval and his three remaining sons, were already spreading whispers and rumors about the scarred warleader's eagerness to shed blood. Attacking Clan Greenfeather so soon after pushing back their daring raid had been pure lunacy, and the cost of Eliz's impatience had been high. In addition, word was spreading throughout the tula about the bloodthirsty mage's encounter with the undead near Stormpeak. The skeletal warriors had literally called her a dark child, someone who bore a terrible burden and was guilty of some unspeakable crime! This piece of delectable information was doing more damage to the raider's reputation than her ill-conceived counterattack. 

Of course, Maire ensured nobody could point to her supporters and claim they were the ones spreading these tales. Instead of openly speaking against Eliz, they insinuated, suggested, and prodded, allowing the men and women of Clan Aonghus to reach their own conclusions. Regrettably, the warleader's popularity had increased somewhat due to her actions during the raid, but the murmurs of discontent were growing louder. Sneering, Maire glanced lazily back at Gwen and said, "More petals, my sweet daor."

Starflower petals, when placed in warm water, released a scent like honey mixed with cream and gave pale skin an unearthly shine. Considering how few men found a woman of Maire's size attractive, the alchemist knew putting in a little extra effort to make herself look good wouldn't go amiss. Running a hand through her wet hair as Gwen dumped the rest of the petals into the water, Maire sighed and thought about the choices Clan Aonghus now faced. The raid had been a calamitous affair, and the clan's gallocmen had suffered more than most. Now was the time for the tula to heal, to take stock of what needed to be done, and to look to its defenses. Otherwise, the clan would perish in his forsaken land without ever seeing the golden fields of Urland again.

As far as Eliz was concerned, however, Maire had another idea. Surprisingly, it was something her father, the late Fergus Virtanen, had taught her many years ago. One night, Maire had come home after spending the day picking starflowers and witchleaves with her mother. Her father had called out to her, slurring his words and sputtering like the drunkard he was, and demanded that she bring him another bottle of corn whiskey. She'd ignored him and gone into her small bedroom, hoping he was too drunk to get up and chastise her. He hadn't been. Thus began one of the longest and most violent beatings of Maire's young life. Eventually, she regained consciousness and found herself lying in a puddle of her own blood at her father's feet. Fergus had smiled down at her like a demon sent by the Dorca Rithe and said, "The worst insult you can inflict upon your enemy is to ignore them, little bird. If you ever ignore me again I will gut you like a fucking trout. I am the son of Caradoc the Wolfslayer and you will treat me with respect!"

Maire had never ignored her father again, and the memory of this horrific incident had actually inspired her. A change of tact was needed to combat her boorish rival.

In public, she would ignore the slights and taunts Eliz sent her way. Privately, however, she'd continue to encourage those who viewed her as their voice on the Council to speak to their kindred about how dangerous the mage was. The clan's safety and prosperity was more important than the pride of some thug with a burnt face. It would take a great deal of patience and self-control to endure the other woman's mockery, but Maire was willing to make that sacrifice. She was willing to make almost any sacrifice for the clan.

Chuckling and standing up, which caused rivulets of water to run down her bloated form, Maire said, "Gwen, fetch me a towel and bring Garrick Derval to the house. We have plans to discuss." The headstrong kern wasn't as charming and kind as poor Alban had been, but he'd lost a son during Eliz's failed counterattack. Garrick had always liked Maire, mostly because she occasionally gave him a free salve to help with his rockjoint, but now he despised Eliz. 

Nothing like a common enemy to convince someone to give you their full support and trust.

Clan Aonghus was reeling from their losses during the raid. The number of gallocmen and kerns that had perished shocked most people, and many clansfolk blamed Eliz for the debacle. Disturbing rumors about her being a dark child continued to make the rounds throughout the tula. Eventually, a group of kerns, led by Cathair Doyle, declared they would never obey or work alongside a woman carrying such a curse. Some even called for Titania, Ardghal, or Seoras to replace Eliz as the clan's warleader. Others begged the Council to exile Eliz immediately. This led to a small riot at the center of the tula about a week after the raid. A dozen gallocmen, hearing the farmers and craftsmen insulting Eliz, lashed out and a fight ensued. Shockingly, Maire Virtanen, Garrick Derval, and Tristan Jory were instrumental in preventing any lives from being lost in the scuffle.

"Whatever differences of opinion we might have," Maire said, raising her voice so she could be heard over the grumbling of nearly two dozen angry men, "Eliz is a valued member of Clan Aonghus' Council! I refuse to allow her good name to be slandered in public like this. If you have a grievance with her then bring it before the Council. This senseless violence does us no good in these difficult times. We must be unified, not divided, if we are to avenge ourselves on those that attacked us." The rabble dispersed after this proclamation, and many spoke glowingly about how dedicated Maire was to ensuring the clan's prosperity.

Unbeknownst to most, however, Cathair and his comrades visited Maire's Mansion in the dead of night. He stood in the alchemist's doorway and asked her who would protect the clan from the dark child sitting on the Council. Was she willing to do whatever was necessary to keep Clan Aonghus safe? Maire promised she would and, for the first time since they'd known each other, the two shook hands. In one fell swoop, Maire Virtanen had gained  the loyalty of a large number of the clan's kerns, though most were still loyal to Dunlad.

It was a promising start.

Clad in her green robes with the ruby blood droplets, Maire glanced from the Children of Mercy to Chief Serhiem, occasionally tapping the armrests of her chair as she waited for her turn to speak. This was not a hard decision for her. During her bath, she'd realized how much the clan had been struggling as of late. It felt like they were running from one disaster to the next like a chicken with its head cut off. This was the perfect opportunity for Clan Aonghus to recover from the tragedies of the past few seasons. Then and only then could those Greenfeather and Nightfell bastards be dealt with. The alchemist firmly believed if a clan wasn't willing to at least remain neutral with Clan Aonghus they needed to be dealt with. Permanently. Still, the tula needed time to recover from the raid before any aggressive action could be taken.

Inclining her head respectfully to Titania and the Dyvellan clerics, Maire said, "While I believe Clan Greenfeather should be...reprimanded for their unprovoked attack, we are in no condition to attack them anytime soon. Also, after discussing the matter with a few close friends, I plan to embark on a diplomatic journey to Clan Vendari's territory as soon as I am able. We need to secure alliances and train more warriors before risking the battlefield again. I feel that we should agree to lay down our weapons for the next two seasons in exchange for the Childrens' assistance. This time can be used to instruct new gallocmen in the ways of war, improve the tula's defenses, and create strong bonds with the other clans in the valley."

Looking at Eliz and smiling venomously, she said, "Clan Greenfeather is not going anywhere and neither are we. Not yet."

Initially, Maire fought against the urge to say something in response to Eliz's look and the implication she'd made. Then, realizing that Odo would make a formidable ally, she decided something needed to be said. "Please, Eliz," Maire said, her voice calm and slightly chiding, "at least make some attempt at tact. You are embarrassing yourself and this Council in front of Dunlad's son." Shaking her head like a mother worrying about a particularly stupid child, she said, "Now, Odo, the clan cannot afford to launch a raid on Clan Greenfeather's territory right now. We need to recover from this last raid and that disastrous counterattack. However, I have no doubt that you would be a great asset to our gallocmen."

Smiling warmly at the young clansman, the alchemist leaned forward and said, "Personally, I would like to see you and six kerns placed under the skilled tutelage of Councilwoman Titania and Fintan for the next two seasons. Once the time has come to avenge ourselves on Clan Greenfeather, you should be made second-in-command, leading your group of six warriors alongside our warleader. Whoever that might be. However, I believe your father should have the final say in this matter."

Maire looked meaningfully at Dunlad as she finished talking. If his son was building support among the gallocmen, and he was according to Tristan, then it would be worthwhile to give him warriors of his own to command. Odo could be the one to supplant the greatest threat to the clan's chances of returning to Urland.

Once the Council meeting ended, Maire sent Gwen to Serhiem with a hastily written letter. The document, written in Maire's flowing hand on a crisp sheet of white vellum, read, "Dear Serhiem, I will be heading west to meet with Clan Vendari's Council by the time you receive this message. I hope to secure an alliance with them and intend to ply them with gifts from our homeland. Perhaps we could share that meal I mentioned last season when I return? We have many important matters to discuss, and I want to tell you about some research I've been conducting as well. I trust in your abilities to see us safely through these difficult times, my chief, but please by careful. We need peace and healing now more than ever. I shall return to the tula as swiftly as the Tuad Rithe allow. Sincerely, Maire Virtanen." After the chief finished reading the letter, Gwen bowed low and raced back to Maire's empty house, which was being guarded by Garrick Derval and five other kerns. Whenever one of them had to leave to tend to their crops, another herdsman would take his place. And all of them were armed.

Evidently, the alchemist wasn't going to rely on Eliz's goodwill to keep her shack safe while she was gone.
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