The sparrow alit on the monastery wall, basking in the early morning sun. He shook the sleep from his eyes ruffled his feathers to feel the soft breeze that calmly snuck in from the east, and cocked his head, watching the monks in the spacious courtyard below. The monks walked briskly out into the training area, and lined up along the wall, as if they had partaken in this exact same routine for several years. They had. As the master of the school gazed over his students, he smiled to himself. He was proud of all of them, and more so how they had handled the conflicts of the last week. Sure some of them were sore, some injured, bruised and bandaged, but they had fought as if their lives depended on it. And they had. But unfortunately this is not their story; this is the story of John and Jesus, two unlucky guys on an adventure in the middle of the week.