[ The inquisitor's face doesn't turn as Alucard puts the papers back down. Some of them are like this. It's a shame, how they do this to themselves. ]

We are going to save you. Scourge you of whatever devil is whispering these ideas into your ears. The process need not be so difficult. [ He reaches forward, stroking lumps of mud from Alucard's hair. ] It need not be fatal. Whatever poison has taken hold of you, you can purge it with the stroke of a pen. This will all be over.