The Great Emperor Alexander had conquered most of the known world. His army now waits at the edge of India, the last great landmass to be captured. Thousands of tents spread out against the great plains and all the way up some mountains. The biggest army the world has ever seen. But yet, he was not happy.
"I have anything I want, If I so ask of it, men will die at my feet to deliver what I desire. I have the company of the most beautiful women in all of Asia, the most fragrant wines in all of Greece and the most precious treasures of the world." He thought to himself. "What else could I possibly be missing?"
That night as he slept, he dreamt.
Alexander was standing atop a hill surrounded by fog, he patiently waited for something to happen, for he knew that dreams do not often end in waiting. Soon, a dark skinned man appeared through the fog, he was old and walked with a stick. "Interesting," Alexander thought, "I have in all my travels seen many different people, yet this man is not Nubian though his skin be dark, his eyes and skin are different and he has strange markings on his face and hands. He must be one of those Indian Yogis my spies have mentioned."
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