The magic’s effect was dramatic. The blackened husk of the rabbit on the table was enveloped in light, and a split second later, the glow intensified enough that it was impossible to look directly at it.
“Guh?!”
Even Commander Yan had to screw his single ashen eye shut at the light that had filled the room. Once he opened it again, it was all over.
The rabbit—its fur having been burned away to nothing and even anything that would normally be edible having all but vanished—was now fluffy and looked just as it had before its death.
“May I pick it up?” he asked after a moment.
“I have no objection. Check it until you are satisfied.”
With the queen’s permission, he moved closer to the table and gingerly lifted the corpse.
Its fur was damp. There was no sign of injury or scorching on it, though. From its looks alone, it was impossible to distinguish it from a live rabbit. Yan was shocked to feel a faint warmth to it as he lifted it. It was no lingering heat from the flames. No, it was the warmth you could feel in a creature’s blood when you cut it while alive.
Contrary to appearances, though, the rabbit was certainly dead. As he focused on the sensations from his hand, he could feel the warmth slowly draining away. He pushed open its eyelids, seeing completely vacant eyes behind them.
“I see... It has indeed been restored. Still, a corpse is a corpse.”
As he spoke, he subtly checked the rabbit’s left ear. Its overall fur was a dark brown, but in the middle of its left ear was an inverted triangle of black fur. Seeing the triangle, he was sure that this was no trickery and the rabbit was indeed the one he had brought with him.
Since he had pulled the rabbit out in Logfort until this very moment, he’d held the rabbit with its ears together, so there was no way anyone would have been able to see the ear. This was his precaution against some kind of con where they presented him with a very similar rabbit’s corpse.
He’d believed the chances to be low to begin with. After all, the only stipulation he’d been given was “a small creature of some kind.” There was no guarantee that he would have brought a rabbit. A rat, cat, puppy, weasel, or many other animals would have equally fulfilled those conditions. It would be all but impossible for them to have one of each of them ready to switch out if needed. Hiding the pattern on its ear had been a final safeguard.
“So it seems you understand,” Aura said, reading that understanding in his expression as well as his words. She smiled as if urging him on to a decision.
The mercenary firmed his resolve and nodded shallowly. “I have. I believe you would be capable of restoring his remains, Your Majesty.”
Putting it into words made him all the more aware of the hope raging within him. The tension had vanished from his face to be replaced by a sort of desire. He had been unable to rescue his priest, and the man had been burned to death, leaving only bones behind. To the dragon faith, dead bodies were a precious, sacred thing. Any harm that was done to a body needed to be repaired to the extent that it could be. Blemishes would be cleaned, and it would be dressed in its clothes from life and placed within a coffin before being buried. Those were the normal funeral rites for the faith. That was a shared characteristic of both the claw and fang denominations, as well as the two countries that had diverged from those faiths.
“Your Majesty, this is my final question.”
The queen silently bade him to continue.
“Are your schemes going to disadvantage me?”
That final question was in fact the height of rudeness. Personally, he was expecting her to continue her earlier refusal to answer. If she didn’t outright refute that she was scheming, it would practically be an admission in and of itself.
He was a seasoned mercenary, well aware that nobility and royalty plotted and schemed as a matter of course, using those weaker than themselves for their own causes. At the same time, though, he also knew that those who stood at the head of their countries, leading them from above, could also act at a whim, saving a commoner’s life.
While it was fundamentally his own value system, he also felt that there were fewer acts more pointless than wasting time, money, and effort to divine an ulterior motive that didn’t actually exist. He had therefore asked the question to at least dismiss the possibility that this was an honest gift with nothing hidden behind it.
The queen considered it for a few moments before speaking. “Hmm...not intentionally, at least. This is based on my own assumptions, but if things go the way I see them progressing, I believe the results will not be something you are against.”
She kept her expression controlled as she spoke. She knew that the way you said something as well as how you behaved while doing so was just as important as what you said. Hence the awareness she kept of both her tone and face here when the most important words were being said. Deceiving your negotiation partner required even more focus on both, but fortunately, that was not necessary here...whether those efforts bore fruit or not.
“Very well,” the mercenary replied eventually. “I shall accept. His corpse will be retrieved and brought to you, so I ask that you fulfill your part when the time comes.” He bowed his head deeply as he spoke.
“I swear I shall. There are restrictions, though. I cannot explain in detail due to its link to the spell itself, but there is a time limit: half a year from Priest Yan’s death.”
In truth, the mana in the magic tool meant that she should be able to wind back a human-sized object by around a year, but there was a need for some margin for error. The words were no great shock to the mercenary.
“Half a year. That should be more than enough,” he said, the confidence clear in his voice.
“Will it? The remains will be within the church’s heartland, no?”
“It will not be an issue. There are many there who are sympathetic to us, even if not publicly so.” His voice had taken on a tinge of pride as he spoke. The priest’s achievements and popularity were simply that meaningful to him—even if the target of that admiration had already passed on.
“I see. Then take care with your target. There will be no second chances.”
Yan considered her words, imagining retrieving the corpse from the church and having it fixed through the spell she had just shown him. It would still be a corpse, but one restored so thoroughly it could have seemed alive. But what if that corpse was not Priest Yan, but someone entirely different?
He felt a shudder of fear run through his body. There was no small chance of such a thing happening. After all, the remains would be blackened and rendered down to little but bone. Determining exactly what was and was not from one person would be difficult. He wasn’t sure he’d manage to maintain his sanity if he wasted his only chance on a mistake.
“I shall ensure there are no mistakes,” he said, determination firm in his voice.