Jan warmed himself by the fire, trying to savor the moments of peace while they lasted. He had hoped for more penitents, though he had done what he could to console those that had come to him. To lift the sinful burdens from their shoulders, to give them a little solace. In all honesty, it was not probably so hopeless for these peasant militiamen if they could reasonably hope to survive. For green, lightly armed men, the real trick was morale. That is what holds a spear line. Inspiration. And discipline, though, admittedly, they were a little light on that front. Hopefully the smattering of more experienced soldiers would even the odds a little. The priest had seen ploughboys fight fearlessly when alongside knights and seasoned warriors. Was it a desire to appear manful before the veterans, or confidence that those veterans were invincible?

Becoming lost in his memories, weighing this skirmish against that siege, Jan almost didn't notice Dixon approach him. The fellow was rather tall and well-built, with a scar on his face. A seasoned soldier, to be sure. Probably a sellsword. He didn't have the look of a legionary.

At first, he assumed the man to be another penitent. His tone told him different, however, and Jan frowned with visible annoyance.

“I believe you may have the wrong idea of the sacrament.” the priest replied, seizing the flask and taking a heavy swig. A practiced drinker would have noticed a kinsman.

“It only counts if you're actually [i]sorry[/i] for what you did. I suspect you are rather proud of yourself- so, no absolution.”

he passed the flask back to his visitor after taking a second swig, considering his words for a space.

“And there is nothing you could tell me that would frighten me. I did not come into this world with this cassock on, nor did I spend my boyhood singing in the choir. I was the right-hand to Mortain the Black of the Broken Blades when [i]you[/i] were no more than a glint in your father's eye.

“I lied, gambled, cheated, murdered, stole, blasphemed, and lay with [i]many[/i] beau-”

Jan broke off suddenly, realizing he was rambling. And probably amusing his would-be penitent. He cleared his throat, attempting to return to his usual clerical decorum.

“But my [i]point[/i] is, I'm not proud of it.”

He did not imagine he was very convincing on that count.