Adso knelt in prayer, atoning for his sins and asking the gods, a god, any god for guidance. Lord Emon had always said The God was watching, protecting, and prevailing. The God was there, was benevolent, was pure. Adso fully believed in this god, but was not sure about its intentions. And so he needed to atone for his doubt. He spent several hours a day in prayer, asking The God for forgiveness, to understand and answer his questions.

His small room was lit by only one candle, but daylight filtered through the solitary window, causing the candle to cast eerie malformed shadows of Adso against the far wall. His arms rested upon his tiny bed, his eyes remained closed and his head bowed in reverence to The One Who Gave.

Silently Adso finished the prayer and opened his eyes. A small basin sat on an end table near the bed, filled to the brim with water. Adso dipped both hands into the water and gently sprinkled it onto his forehead. The cleansing.

He felt his doubts vanish as if purified by the water. He let out a deep sigh, then closed his eyes once more, thanking The God for remaining ever vigilant, and for vanquishing the Dark Ones within himself.

For, as Lord Emon himself had proclaimed, the Dark Ones resided in every person, every living thing. Only humans had the choice to ask for repentance—animals were doomed to suffer the fate of nonbelievers, followers of the Dark Ones. And so it had been since Adso had been a child. So it would be when he passed and melded with The God.

Adso slowly stood up and glanced out the window. Three or four hours had passed since his training session with Master Gorman—it was now roughly midday. Seven or eight hours later and the cleansing would begin. His new life.

Adso felt a surge of excitement, like none he had ever felt before. Suddenly he felt as though running out in the field with Agro until they both collapsed of exhaustion would be normal, or that taking the nearest pure maiden by the arms and dancing with her until dawn the next day acceptable.

Taking a deep breath, he slipped his tunic over his bare, broad chest and shoved his feet into his boots. Prayer had sapped his energy, and so once he was clothed, he headed to the military barracks to find a meal.

It was a short walk to the barracks. It was a lone building made of wood that stood atop a small hill overlooking the valley in which the city rested. The barracks was large enough to house over 200 male soldiers and 50 female servants who provided meals and daily cleaned the premises. They were not slaves; however, they were paid a fair wage. Some said too fair.

After being inspected by the guards at the gate, Adso passed through the training grounds and into the eatery, one of the few structures that was part of the barracks. He was given a small tray filled with a sort of gray slop, and he hurried to one of the tables where a large, rugged man with beefy arms and a sinewy neck sat, slowly raising a spoon filled with the slop to his mouth and chewing rigorously.

As Adso approached the table, the man looked up and smiled. "Wander, my boy!"

"How are things in the barracks, Garet?" Adso asked as he sat across from the large man, whose face was now beaming with delight.

Garet grunted and prodded the slop in front of him. "Typical. Train half the day, eat, train some more, bathe, sleep."

"Sounds exciting," said Adso, digging into the oozing substance on his tray. It tasted a little like oatmeal mixed with dry wheat. If he hadn't been so used to the taste, he probably would have spat it back out. Years of eating it had steeled his taste buds, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Garet, however, seemed to savor every sloppy bite.

"Of course it is," Garet said between bites. "What more could a man want?"

Adso smiled. Garet was ten years the older, but he still somehow felt an intense connection with the burly man. Originally they had trained together in the barracks, but Adso had been selected to train under the temple guards. He had shown such proficient skill on horseback and with archery that even Lord Emon had approved. Garet was never jealous, although Adso knew he had to be. Nevertheless, Garet was much more skilled with a sword, and could inflict much more damage. Adso wouldn't doubt it if one vertical slash would be enough to sever monstrous Agro in two.

"Perhaps a beautiful wife and plenty of strong young children," Adso remarked with a grin. Garet dropped his spoon and burst into laughter, pounding the table once with his fist.

"Always the funny one, Wander," Garet said, smiling and shaking his head. "Could you imagine me trying to contain so many heathens? I fear the idea of taking care a family more than I fear fighting a giant."

Adso chuckled. "Just a suggestion, my friend. I doubt such a task would be as colossal a challenge as you make it out to be."

Garet finished up the slop and set his spoon down. "Never mind that. Are you busy now?"

"I have only my preparations for the cleansing tonight."

"Ah, the cleansing. It will be glorious."

"Will you attend?" Adso asked, hopeful.

"By the gods, yes! How could I ever miss the knighting of The Wanderer?"

Adso set down his own spoon. He had not finished his meal, but he was satisfied and he had regained his strength. "Glad to hear it."

"Tell me," Garet said, leaning in, "would some swordplay be beneficial to your… preparations?"

"Only if you do not fear gaining a new scar."

Garet laughed. "Do you favor having a head?"

Adso joined in the laughter. "I have a better idea than simple swordplay. However, with as high of stakes, we shall use the practice blades."

Garet scoffed. "I can control my blade hand better than any man in this barracks. What could be so dangerous to warrant the use of wooden swords?"

Adso said nothing, just smirked. Garet raised an eyebrow. "What in the gods' names do you have in mind, boy?"

Adso's grin stretched across his already overtly playful expression.

"Are you ready?" Adso called from the southern end of the field. Garet shifted his weight uncomfortably. Riding horseback was not his forte, as he was usually too big for the horse and never had exceptional balance. The brown horse he had pulled from the stable was large enough to rival Agro, Adso's steed, but still seemed a little wobbly under the large man's bulk.

"Ready enough!" Garet shouted in reply. He gripped his sword and dug his heels into the horse's ribs. Although it had trembled beneath his weight earlier, the horse seemed to tap into an invisible energy source as it sprung forward, rushing over the grass.

Adso gave Agro a sharp kick and shouted, "Hyah!" Agro darted forward, straight toward Garet and the great beast beneath him.

Just before the horses met, Adso tensed and raised his sword. Garet pointed his directly at Adso and gave a war cry.

CLANK! The wooden swords smashed into each other and bounced apart. Adso nearly lost his, but managed to maintain his grip as he turned Agro around for another pass. He thought he could hear Garet laughing.

"Can you handle this, boy?" Garet shouted from the other side of the field.

Adso smiled and responded, "I have a few surprises waiting for you, my friend!"

"We shall see about that, Wander!" cried Garet, kicking his horse in the flanks and starting back toward him.

Adso judged the distance. A hundred and fifty meters. Plenty of space. He kicked Agro again and the massive horse launched forward.

The powerful legs beat the ground, the tense, sinewy muscles snaked underneath him, and the wind rustled his hair. Adso connected with Agro, felt the horse's every move, understood each and every muscle in his body as he triumphed in speed and agility. Adso found the perfect balance and took a deep breath.

Slowly he raised one leg up and set his foot on the saddle. Then, as soon as his balance returned, he brought the other leg up. In a few seconds he would meet Garet again—he had to act fast.

His left foot slipped as he began to stand up, and he lost his balance. Adrenaline surged through him, and suddenly he had a horrible, sickening feeling that he would tumble off Agro. But somehow his foot came back onto the saddle, and, with the help of the reins, managed to regain his balance. He raised his sword just as Agro passed Garet's sturdy horse.

Garet swiped at Adso's knees, but didn't finish the blow. Adso's own wooden blade came down and thumped the back of Garet's head. Garet slumped over, his horse slowed, and he toppled over.

Adso dropped back to his saddle, his heart pumping wildly. He had seen Garet fall from his horse, and so he turned Agro around and kicked him viciously in the sides. Agro sensed his master's haste and surged forward.

Reaching his fallen friend, Adso pulled back on the reins and jumped off Agro before he had even come to a stop.

"Garet!" he called, rushing to his friend.

Adso's heart stopped. Garet was lying in the grass, laughing.

"Are you all right? I'm so sorry, my friend, I—"

"Damn you!" Garet shouted, rubbing the back of his head. "The least you could have done was leave me a scar, not some rubbish lump."

Adso kneeled next to his friend and laughed. "I really didn't mean to do that."

"Ah, it's all right," said Garet, getting to his feet. "You really are a remarkable rider. I wouldn't be surprised if you became the greatest knight this kingdom has ever seen."

"Thank you, Garet, but I sincerely doubt it."

"Eh, depends on if you can keep your head straight." Garet's attention suddenly darted to the left. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Adso asked, turning to match Garet's gaze.

"I thought I saw something," Garet replied, stepping out of the confines of the practice field and into the long grass that signaled where the city ended and wilderness began.

"Whatever it is," Adso said, following closely behind Garet, "it smells pretty bad."

Adso fell back, unable to wrench through the long grass as well as Garet. They were now about 50 meters from the practice field. Adso could see the two horses grazing together, as if they had not just been engaged in so much as a practice battle.

Garet knelt down and disappeared from view. "Did you find something?" Adso called to him.

"Adso, come quickly!"

Adso shoved his way through the grass, running as fast as he possibly could through the growth. Garet was kneeling over something covered with a mixture of foamy white and syrupy red substances, but he couldn't quite tell what.

"What is it?" he asked, just as the smell Garet had mentioned earlier intensified. The stench was so putrid that he gagged and turned away. Flies were buzzing all around what Adso now recognized as a human corpse.

It had been ripped to shreds.

"What happened to him?" Adso asked, covering his nose with his mouth. Garet reached for where the head should have been.

"Don't touch it!" Adso snapped. Garet ignored him and grabbed a leathery item, gagging as he brought it away from the body. Strings of blood and guts followed it, so he whipped it up and down to clear the viscous liquids.

Garet stumbled away from the body. Adso took one final look at the mangled corpse, shuddered, and followed his friend.

Garet forced his way out of the long grass and back onto the practice field. He wiped the blood from the item, and underneath the grime came the appearance of a leather-bound book.

"What are you hoping to find?" Adso asked, sitting down next to him.

"This was the only thing on that body," said Garet. "It must have been of importance to him, and may explain the cause for his death."

Garet opened the book and skimmed through a few pages.

"Well?" Adso prodded.

Garet's eyes widened.

"What is it?" Adso grimaced.

"I think… I think it's a journal."

"Kept by whom?"

Garet handed the book over to Adso and whispered, "Lord Emon."