Ranma stared at the photo some more.
Ranma slowly rotated the photo in his hand, holding it up to the light, trying to grasp as many of the details in the image as he could.
"So what?"
Ranma gave up. It wasn't really a good photo. The lighting was horrible and the angle was all wrong. It had all the signs of a photographer who had been fumbling with his camera. Now the pictures that Yumiko took whenever she went on a mission, those were good ones. She'd always somehow find a good time to snap a few pics of the local scenery. Why just last month, she had shown him some of the ones she took in-
"-formation in your hands, but it would be foolhardy to not study it thoroughly for whatever advantage it might gain you."
"Of course, Father Renaldo, but still this photograph isn't clear enough to be worth much," Ranma responded without missing a beat. "This figure, it's too obscured by the foliage and its garments to make out. As it is, I can't tell if it's human or if it's supernatural. If I could only see its face, but it's not turned toward the camera."
Standing where he was in Archbishop Maxwell's spacious office, Father Renaldo shook his head wearily. "Unfortunately, there is nothing else that can be done. While we would all wish that whoever took this could have taken it during the day and in clear weather, but there is no point in dwelling on it now. Analyzing this photo itself took long enough as it was, and that didn't help much either."
Casting a quick glance toward the unusually quiet Archbishop, who was busily ignoring the extra bit of mission briefing that his assistant was delivering, Ranma frowned. "And it wouldn't be in genre, I guess. It'd be too simple. Whatever, I can deal with it. My guide will be waiting for me in Tokyo?"
"That is right. Anything new that you will need to know, he'll inform you when you get there. In any case, you have your orders, Paladin. You are dismissed."
"Yes sir."
Casting one last wary look toward the silent Iscariot head, the young priest left the room. It was at least better than the primary mission briefing, which Maxwell had delivered himself a few days ago; that time the man just wouldn't stop talking. The mission briefing had to be conducted in his presence --all particularly sensitive material had to be kept safely in the Archbishop's office or on his person-- but at least he hadn't need to stand through another rant session with his superior. Which was always good, right?
The leader of Iscariot didn't bother to acknowledge his subordinate as he left the room. Nor did he look up when his assistant quietly and efficiently returned the mission materials back into its briefcase and locked it in the office safe, then left for his own office down the hall. After all, there was always more work to be done.
"Sir, I have ta protest givin' the boy this mission."
Maxwell turned to the next page of the daily report in front of him, not looking up at the figure that had entered the room. "We've gone over this before, Father Anderson. Many times. Do you have a new argument to use, or will this be a repeat of the last time?"
Father Alexander Anderson paused, troubled by the tone of his superior's voice. "It dunnt make much sense sir, to give him this mission in particular. Especially given what you've been beratin' him about in the last one." The elder paladin of Iscariot straightened a bit as he regarded Maxwell. "Why send him into temptation like dis? When he's in doubt now? Why not pack him off ta'a monastery and give him a few weeks of quiet time o' prayer 'n confession to straighten him out'a bit?"
Maxwell cracked a smirk as he turned another page in his report. "Why not send him? Prayer and confession won't do much for the boy, after all, it's not as if he's burdened by sin. Doubt is something that must be resolved by making him live through it, not by sequestering him with the monks. And he's the most suited of all of my agents to handle this situation. We certainly can't send you." Maxwell deigned to give Anderson a look at that last part, before returning to his papers.
The priest looked pained for a moment, before putting his face back to its neutral mask. "And why make him confront this choice? And so soon? After he be lettin' the Hellsing girl live, what's to say he won't do the same with this one? Hellsing's little bloodsucker might be annoyin' sometimes when them Hellsing sends her int' our lands, but at least she be under their chain 'n collar. This one ain't the same! And to send the boy in ta heathen lands wit'out support? Solo? What'f he be overwhelmed there? Then whot?"
"Have you so little confidence in your protege, Father Anderson?"
*Page turn*
"The boy will be fine. I put on a little show of anger just give him a little more incentive... but you knew that already. The Victoria girl isn't much of a threat anyway. We know where she is and we can have her killed whenever a convenient opportunity arises. The boy lost a good chance to do so, but the chance will come again soon enough."
*Page turn*
"Hellsing and her little toy soldiers are nothing more than a nuisance, and we have bigger things to take care of. Ranma has sound judgment for one his age. He'll do the right thing this time."
Anderson gave a tired sigh. "You be sure that this be the right thing ta do sir? I'm afraid the boy won't be prepared for what he's going ta face. That one be strong... strong enough to elude our searches for these all these long years. We don't even know how strong now."
"Don't fret so, Father Anderson. Ranma has the might of the Lord behind him. He has the power to destroy this threat."
"The power? Maybe so, but I can't but think the boy might not finish the job. Saint Raphael be strong in that child. If he dunnt kill the creature, then whot can we do? If he feels pity for her like he did for the Victoria girl, we don't know when we be findin' that one again. To send him on his own, without anyone to aid him...."
Maxwell reached for the small glass of water on his desk and took a sip, still casually reading his report. "The young paladin is imbued with Michael's light no less than he is with Raphael's. We will put our trust in his judgment as we do in yours. If he doesn't kill the creature, we'll have no choice but to hunt it down with all of our forces and permanently banish it from the world. But that is not much better a choice than sending the boy on his own. God willing, he will choose the right path and resolve his little crisis on his own at the same time."
Anderson shook his head in despair. There was simply no arguing with Maxwell when his mind was made up. Without bothering to wait for dismissal, he left the office as quietly as he entered it.
Maxwell nonchalantly continued musing over his report. An hour and a half later, he finally set it down, well satisfied with its contents, at least for now. With a unconcerned air, he walked to the room's picture window and gazed out at the small private garden outside, occasionally taking a sip from the glass of water in his hand. The sight of the garden's fountain, with its beautifully carved marble sculpture of St. Michael the Archangel at its center, always managed to help him think.
Oh... why not.
"Father Renaldo."
The Archbishop's assistant, just barely in the door delivering the morning mail, strode over to his superior's side.
"I think I'll give Father Anderson a... boon this time."
Maxwell walked over to the safe and, upon opening it, pulled out a thin manila folder from a compartment, which he handed over to his assistant. "Deliver this to our young paladin before his flight tomorrow morning, will you? Who knows? He might find it useful."
"As you wish, Sir."
Hiking in the countryside with his guide toward the parish that would be his home for some indeterminate time, Ranma thought back to the... most interesting reading selection that Father Renaldo had delivered to him the day before, now tucked away safely in his pack. Unholy magics and deep Vatican conspiracies, True Evil and angelic intervention... it would probably make for a good fantasy novel. It would probably make for good storytelling to the kids at the orphanage for that matter. Not that he'd talk about that sort of thing to the kids. Of course not. Would never even think it.
Ranma whistled cheerily to himself as he walked along the crude dirt path to the small village that was his destination.
So here was Ranma's mission. How is he going to go about completing it?
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(Posted Fri, 20 Feb 2004 06:40)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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