A Third Confessional

She is not a nun, you don’t think, even if her gait and boots make her sound like one. They halt beside the booth, whispering with each other. Then soft knuckles rap on hard wood and she asks: "Father?"

You clear your throat.

"Forgive me, Father, but I have to ask a favour. It has been three years since I broke with the church. And it has been three years since my last confessional. Would you hear us? Together?"

You invite them inside.

Her voice is loud and proud, the sound of life and streetwise hustle. ”Forgive us, Father, for we have sinned."

You do not comment on her strange formulation and bid her continue instead.

”Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have broken my oath to the Church and to the Lord. I have lived a meaningless life filled with greed, **** and drudgery. I am unworthy of His Light. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

You are no longer surprised by petitioners who come to you for their spiritual needs, and you pause to ponder if you are simply unlucky or if the Heterodox Hierophant indeed harboured ulterior motives.

”Forgive me, Father, we should not have come. Forgive us, we are unworthy," she says, already opening the door.

You tell them to stay, talking to dispel the silence that shocked her so. Official doctrine may demand contrition – an end to her fallen state – but you no longer preach. You instead ask if they are happy and if their meaningless drudgery keeps them fed.

"I’m pregnant," she says, her voice lowered to breathless murmur.

He gasps, his whispered questions too quiet for you to hear.

You give them some time to themselves before addressing the practicalities. They want to keep the child, even if it is born a bastard. You sigh, then chuckle and offer to marry them. It is not like you need to fear further censure.

They do not understand immediately, but soon her grateful scream echoes between St. Martha’s staid walls. You impose light penances for their myriad sins – including disturbing other church-goers in their quiet contemplation – and then await them by the altar.

Time passes.

{if The Passage of Time > 95} Your Time in Barenhaven is running out {elseif The Passage of Time > 80} Your Time in Barenhaven is coming to a close {elseif The Passage of Time > 60} You have some Time left in Barenhaven {elseif The Passage of Time > 50} Your Time in Barenhaven is half-way over {elseif The Passage of Time > 30} You have quite some Time left to spend in Barenhaven {elseif The Passage of Time > 15} You have a lot of Time left to spend in Barenhaven {elseif The Passage of Time > 5} Your Time in Barehaven has just begun {else} You are now spending Time in Barenhaven {endif}

The Spearwielding Saint smiles down on the hurried ceremony, her stony gaze softened gold in the warm candlelight.