Isolation

What I had instructed the elf elders to do came down to two things.

"Let it slip to Marcella that you've been secretly buying heroin in bulk. If a quiet leak is too difficult, you may as well shove it in her face. All that matters is that it reaches Marcella's ears."

First, provoke Marcella.

"If that news drives her to act in a fury, invent some excuse and contact me through a communication orb. Then ask me what the money was used for. Right in front of Marcella."

And once the mood had ripened, get in touch with me.

That was all. Handing addicts a complicated errand was a fool's game. A junkie would do anything for a fix, but that hardly made one trustworthy.

"Very well, human. And I'll say it once more."

"I know. This isn't an order. It's a suggestion."

Only then did the buyers concede and take their leave, still fondling the hundred-gram bricks of packaged heroin as though they were treasures. I turned my attention to the wealth they had left behind. I meant to put that money to good use in neutralizing Marcella.

It had to be stopped, somehow.

Even if the infamy falls on me, it can't be helped. Stopping this comes first.

That single fixation was all Marcella had as she held the line against the heroin. More precisely, she was thrashing in the attempt to hold it. Those already steeped in the drug she could write off as lost, but the spread itself had to be checked. With the leadership already contaminated, if the rest of the elves began to soak in the drug as well, there would be no containing it. That much, at least, she had to prevent no matter what.

In truth, she was not placed to answer for the welfare of every elf. This was no time, however, to quibble over so petty a thing as rank. Any elf who grasped the danger had to step forward.

The one mercy was that she was not alone. Perhaps her long devotion had not been entirely in vain; there were those willing to hear her out.

"I don't know whether heroin is truly dangerous. Isn't it just tobacco leaf ground into powder? Still, you're right that the elders have grown far too lax. I don't think it's proper for them to indulge so deeply in the amusements humans provide."

"Honestly, I don't understand the rest of it. I'll simply follow your orders, Lady Marcella. I trust you more than I trust the elders."

"I think I faintly understand why you're worried. Ever since Father started on heroin, he keeps talking to himself... Haah. In any case, I'll stand with you."

Unlike the subordinates who had turned on their betters, these elves stood with Marcella. There were not many of them, if she was honest.

She had distinguished herself in battle against the imperial army, that much was true, but plenty of elves still kept her at a wary distance. More than once she had overreached, determined to drive the Empire out at the earliest hour and drag every elf of the Great Forest into the war.

Even so, I'm not alone.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The mere knowledge that she had people at her back lent Marcella courage, and her will to devote herself to her kin welled up in her afresh. What mattered most now was stripping power from the elders.

If only they would throw a public heroin party in the heart of Medellin, nothing could be better. Once the others witnessed that shocking, nearly indescribable disgrace, not a single elf would still speak in heroin's favor. But the addicts were not wholly without sense; they smoked and ate it in secret among themselves. Elders of venerable blood, five hundred at the youngest and as old as seven hundred, had gone vacant-eyed, yet that alone was hardly grounds to urge the rest of her people to defy them. To plant a sense of crisis among her kin she needed something decisive, and decisive things were not easy to come by.

I need a pretext. A pretext.

Without one, she could not act. And so, while she turned the problem over and over, an elf appeared at last to place that pretext in her hands.

"Elder Escenia left four days ago carrying a vast sum. It was the Grand Elder who authorized the withdrawal. It was part of the budget set aside for exchange with the Darien Kingdom, but it doesn't look as if it was spent for that purpose. She went into imperial territory. Where... where did the money go?"

A young enforcer had come quietly to bring her the news.

Had she meant to indulge in luxury there, now that peace had been made with the Empire? Impossible. She had bought heroin; there was no need to look twice. The thirty grams they had first received for nothing would be running out about now. It was almost commendable that she had not sold off the Great Forest and had spent only gold bars and banknotes, but the size of the sum alone was scandal enough.

This was pretext enough to strike. A budget raised for exchange with nations that did not trespass upon the Great Forest, spent on a pinch of heroin? Elves might be indifferent to wealth, but once word got out that a fortune had gone merely to buy a little powder, they would not sit idle. At the very least, it would rouse the outrage of those who had never smoked the stuff.

"All right. We move."

Marcella's own heart was not at ease. She was a young elf, not yet two hundred. To stand against elves who had lived three and four centuries longer than she—elders, no less, the leadership itself—did not sit well with her. Five of that council even belonged to her own clan.

This is no time to fret over rank.

Marcella steeled herself and summoned her followers. She asked not only them, but elves of office whose loyalties were still undecided, to come along. If she turned up alone and unannounced, the elders would simply refuse to see her.

"We go to the Grand Elder."

Whatever came of today, Marcella meant to bear the responsibility without flinching. Without that resolve, this was not a thing one could bring oneself to do.

A short while later came the audience with the Grand Elder, half-forced into being by Marcella.

"What is it, Marcella?"

The Grand Elder, her face vacant, put the question to her. For better or worse she did not look drunk on the drug, though she kept a pipe at her side, as if ready to smoke whenever the whim took her. There was even an elegant stand of fine timber, though when it had been made was anyone's guess.

To treasure a tool for smoking heroin—the very pipe Allan Madoff had given her—so dearly. The sight made it easy for Marcella to begin.

"Grand Elder. Not long ago, buried in smoke, you told me you would obtain more heroin by any means you could."

"What insolence. Withdraw."

"You did say it. Didn't you?"

"......"

The Grand Elder could muster no rebuttal, only a mumbled evasion, while the elders beside her either watched which way the wind blew or did not bother even to do that. Marcella decided to press harder.

"I hear Elder Escenia went to a city of the Empire on your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠orders. And she did not go empty-handed. I know a considerable sum was spent. Can you tell me what it was used for?"

"Marcella. Stop."

"No. What needs to stop is your heroin smoking. I demand an explanation. What, exactly, was that money spent on?"

"......"

"Heroin, of course. You bought heroin."

Marcella pressed the point, one hand settling quietly upon her sword hilt.

Her design was simple. Draw a confession from the Grand Elder, and immediately afterward attempt a bargain: she would look the other way if the elders shut themselves in some back room and enjoyed their heroin to their hearts' content, so long as they handed real power over to her in peace.

I may not even need to browbeat them.

They might even call it a relief and withdraw into that room of their own accord. With the elders as they were now, it was entirely possible. And indeed, Grand Elder Ariella nodded without resistance.

"Yes. I asked Elder Escenia to make contact with a person of the Empire."

"Was that person Allan Madoff?"

"He was. I gave him money. And I received three kilograms of heroin."

She admitted it far too easily.

The elves Marcella had brought this far began to murmur. She told herself it was unfolding as she had expected, and still a bitter smile rose to her lips. She had braced for at least some denial, and instead came this effortless confession. It left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a sour taste, but it only made her plan easier to carry through.

"So you did buy heroin, in the end."

"I gave money. And I received heroin. But that... isn't the whole of it?"

What nonsense is this. The heroin again, no doubt.

Marcella was still turning it over, fingers worrying at her sword hilt, when one of the elders cast a communication spell in an awkward, half-committed posture. The Grand Elder brushed past it with a mumble, that it would be better to hear the matter from the party concerned.

Something is wrong.

In the moment that unease took hold of her, a familiar voice issued from the orb.

It was Allan Madoff's voice.

Marcella blinked in bewilderment. Ide and Yerina—young warriors taken prisoner by the humans near the end of the conflict with the Empire. She had assumed they were killed the moment they were captured. She could not understand why those names were coming from Allan's mouth.

With that, Allan Madoff cut the link as he pleased.

In the suddenly frigid air, Marcella's mouth opened and closed without a sound. So the elders had spent the money to get the prisoners back? And Allan had used that money for some maneuver that had actually secured their release? But elders lost to heroin would never have conceived of such a thing. It had to be the heroin. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It had to be.

"I trust that serves as an explanation?"

The Grand Elder's question fell upon Marcella, who had yet to claw her way free of her thoughts. Instead of answering, she slowly turned.

The elves she had brought in high spirits to pressure the council—the elves who had stood solidly at her back—averted their eyes in dismay. Those who did not look away stared at Marcella with eyes gone cold.

Marcella knew very well what this meant.