Seizure
The elders of Medellin were, at that moment, consumed by fury.
"Human arrogance has gone too far...! We cannot let this pass."
"...Even so, that man Allan Madoff—he's the one with the heroin, isn't he?"
"Have we lost our minds over heroin? We only smoke it to take the edge off. Some short-lived breed has no business slighting us just because he holds the supply...! We ought to warn him so sternly that nothing like this ever happens again...!"
In the Grand Elder's office the elders had gathered to denounce Allan Madoff, their voices climbing over one another. Even a few of the more temperate among them were smoking heroin to soothe their anger. Allan Madoff had summoned them in the dead of night on the pretext that he had committed a grave discourtesy against Elder Escenia, and that he would apologize to the elders in public and make reparations. Yet there was not the faintest sign that he meant to appear. A mere human who had come as a guest had stood the elders up.
They had indulged Allan Madoff until now, but this time the mood had hardened past forgiveness. Elders who had lived in the Great Forest since before the Britannia Empire was even founded, insulted by a single human official.
At last Grand Elder Ariella rendered her decision, her expression severe.
"We will hold Allan Madoff to account. We will demand a public apology, and we will take compensation as well."
"Oh."
There was not an elder present who failed to understand that the compensation in question was heroin. That, after all, was the only thing the council wanted—or, failing that, a fine pipe, or some aromatic blend that gave off a pleasant scent when smoked together with heroin.
"...Just let him dare show his face. Filthy human."
The elders were of one mind: this was the chance to wring everything out of Allan Madoff. Not a single elf doubted that the man would soon come crawling into view.
Not one.
…
"Elders!"
The urgent report arrived then.
"What's all this fuss?"
"The armory in the Nariño district has fallen to the enemy...!"
Silence settled over the chamber.
An enemy, out of nowhere. An armory taken. Neither had ever happened once in the history of Medellin, and the elders could only stare in bewilderment. One of them, collecting himself at last, opened his mouth to give an order—but before he could, another urgent report came in.
"Enemies appear to have stormed the Administration Hall. What are we to do...!"
Word that the office which received and dispatched the council's commands had been attacked.
"The guardians on duty today seem to have been taken while engaging the enemy. ...No—in truth we still haven't confirmed whether any engagement actually occurred, but that they were captured is certain...!"
And word that the guardians responsible for Medellin's defense had become prisoners.
What it meant, in the end, was that an enemy had entered Medellin. There was only one race that would commit such an outrage.
"Humans? Are the humans attacking us?"
"Yes...! The imperial army has invaded Medellin as we speak."
By then the elders' faces were growing steadily graver. Humans, inside the domain of the World Tree. And every major facility neutralized in a matter of moments, no less. Even those who had been smoking heroin set their pipes down—they did not extinguish them, but they set them down. That Medellin had fallen into human hands was that shocking a piece of news.
This was no time to be lost in heroin. It was time to find a countermeasure. Yet no elf readily offered one. Calling up the warriors to drive the invaders out was pointless when the offices and the armory had already been taken, and the situation was far too urgent to send for aid from the villages beyond Medellin. Even if they did send, it was doubtful anyone would come. Who would believe that humans had suddenly burst into Medellin, in the heart of the Great Forest, and run wild?
With no answer to be found, the elders only stared at one another, while the clerks waited on their orders with crumpled faces.
"What are we to do?"
And through it all, time simply drained away.
"Ah! That's it!"
What broke the silence was Grand Elder Ariella's cry. A thread of hope had risen on the face of the woman who had been raking irritably at her white hair. Dire as things were, she had something she could rely on, and the elders turned to her with expectation written across their faces.
"Summon Marcella."
"Yes?"
"Tell Marcella to lead the warriors and kill the humans—all of them, every last one...! Don't leave a single one alive. Only Allan Madoff is to be brought back with nothing but his life intact! We must call the Empire to account for this outrage."
"Grand Elder."
"Hurry and summon Marcella!"
Quickly. She pressed them, her face full of faith—that Marcella would strike the humans down, settle this sudden calamity in a single stroke, and bring back news of victory.
The answer that returned was nothing short of bleak.
"I... forgive me, but the one commanding the human host now attacking Medellin... is Great Warrior Marcella herself, Grand Elder."
"What."
"Marcella is a traitor. Elders."
The elders' faces twisted with disbelief.
It did not last long.
…
"Grand Elder. It's over."
Marcella had burst into the office at the head of the humans.
The capital of the Great Forest, Medellin, fell with absurd ease.
Combat? Of course there was combat. A handful of warriors had barred our way even as we entered the Grand Elder's office. Most of them, though, were heroin users, and we put them down without much trouble. One frantically chanted a spell, took a single blow from me, and surrendered. Another drew a blade and flailed about, only to be lightly restrained and knocked cold. It was the same easy work as seizing the other major facilities had been.
All that remained was the Council of Elders, the highest authority in the city.
Marcella regarded the council in silence. A little over thirty elders glared back at her, horror on their faces. I understood the feeling, but someone still had to speak. I looked to Viscount Grant, who had come as commander of the imperial force—a Sword Master, and Vice-Commander of the Imperial Escort Knights. Nominally my superior as well. In the original story his part had been to marvel at the protagonist Leon's talent and talk the boy's value up. He was more than qualified to lay out the justification for armed intervention and compel the elders to submit.
But Viscount Grant's state of mind looked exceedingly... exceedingly complicated. He could not have expected to take an enemy capital with only two of our own hurt, and lightly at that.
Someone would have to step forward. I took up my morningstar and stood at Marcella's side.
And I spoke.
"Grand Elder. It's over now."
"Apothecary...!"
"We are imperial troops who entered at the request of Great Warrior Marcella, who stands here. She has said she wants no needless sacrifice. Hand power over to her quietly, and you may live out your days with at least a minimum of dignity intact."
"What are you saying...?"
"After this, Marcella will come forward as the representative of the elves and negotiate a truce with the Empire."
"......"
What remained was the elders' choice. Submission, or resistance.
"That child Marcella, a representative?"
Under ordinary circumstances a melee would have broken out around then. We were a small strike force, and the elders were, every one of them, outstanding mages—the Grand Elder exceptional even among them. But one look at their faces made plain that they were in no state to fight. Every last elder was addicted to heroin, and not mildly: severe addicts who smoked it four or five times a day. Even now there was one who could not bring himself to set his pipe down. Fighting in that condition had to be considered frankly impossible.
There was, however, an elf who rose in fierce defiance. Grand Elder Ariella declared her resistance with a terribly contorted face.
"I'll fry you all in a single breath!!"
She thrust both hands forward and glared at us. She did not even have a staff, but someone of the Grand Elder's caliber would surely be capable of high-speed chanting—lightning magic enough to fry us where we stood. The only way to stop it was to rush her and take her head before the spell could fire. We could hardly just stand there and take the hit.
No sense of urgency ever formed.
"All of you—I'll fry every last one of you...!"
For all the triumphant declaration, no magic came, however long we waited. The Grand Elder only glared at us from an awkward, half-finished stance. Her constricted pupils wavered uneasily from side to side, and the hands she had thrust forward trembled faintly. Through all of it, not a trace of mana could be sensed.
It was possible her skill ran so deep that she had mastered a way of concealing the presence of mana. If that were the case, standing there gaping would have been a mistake. It was not.
"The formula—the Chain Lightning formula... no, I know it, I do, uh."
"......"
The Grand Elder, it seemed, was in no condition to wield magic at all. A wretched sight for a mage who could have ranked even the masters of the Empire's magic towers a step beneath her. Marcella watched her calmly, one hand resting on her sword hilt, while the faces of the imperial knights—myself excepted—were etched with shock. They only stared at Grand Elder Ariella groping at empty air, as if they could not believe what they were seeing.
An awkward stretch of time passed that way.
"Ah! There—I've got it!"
At last color flooded Grand Elder Ariella's face. At the same moment a vast surge of power made itself felt: a wide-area spell that, were it only completed, looked fit to blast the entire office away. It had the momentum to kill not only the imperial troops but the elders as well. Victory was already written across her face. One blow, and every enemy—the traitor Marcella included—would be wiped out at once.
"Die, all of—!"
No reversal was staged.
Marcella, silent until then, drew her sword without a word and drove it straight into the Grand Elder's chest. The motion took an instant.
"Ghk...!"
The result was fatal. The Grand Elder looked from the blade buried in her chest to Marcella and back again, as if she could not believe it. Elders caught her as she folded and demanded to know what Marcella thought she was doing. One of them tried to slip from the scene without a word, was seized by an imperial knight, and hung his head.
Marcella watched, then announced it calmly.
"Elder Tolima. ...No. Any one of you will do. Convene a council as acting Grand Elder, and pass a motion transferring emergency authority to me."
No elder raised an objection to her command.
The coup had succeeded.