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The priests bowed as they left the ornate chamber, and the Emperor looked beyond the stained glass of his throne room as the star shone dimly through the emerald green of dyed glass. Most people would accept this as a sign of the foretold deliverer. But there was a large minority that would not...No matter what High priest Artemis decreed to be God's word. Emperor Kilvan had a choice to make, one that would likely result in some sort of religious discord within his empire. He rose from his silver throne, and the steel-clad spear-men that lined the gold-trimmed silk rug simultaneously stood at attention. "Prepare an Imperial caravan. I will meet this deliverer myself." He descended the steps and walked toward the towering doors to leave the room. He turned to one of the guards at the exit, issuing a final order "Make sure his Holiness is made aware of this endeavor."