In the centuries-old and glorious history of the long-perished Teikou Empire, there is one chapter that stood out from the rest. It is that of the 111th emperor, Akashi Seijuurou. The last emperor.
The Teikou Empire valued excellence above all, and losses, no matter how trivial, were only pardoned with death. Of all sovereigns, the 111th emperor was widely regarded as the most excellent. Gifted with incredible insight, astounding athletic prowess, unrivaled intelligence and an innate ability to connect with and unite even the most difficult personalities, he was considered the epitome of perfection and every historian’s favorite or most hated topic. Everyone could recite his biography easily.
The one fact that was uncertain, however, was that of his death. His death was shrouded in mystery. Some claim he was assassinated by his best spy - a nearly invisible phantom. Others say he committed suicide after having finally lost against his right-hand man. There are also theories of the intimidating and powerful general of the army revolting and killing him in a confrontation.
Before him, the 109th emperor, Shirogane Kouzou, had been known as a kind, peace-loving man. Under his rule, the nation prospered and thrived. Peace treaties and alliances were discussed and made, and he maintained good relationships with the neighbouring countries. But he was sickly and frail, a fact he realized and accepted, so a successor was promptly chosen. Nijimura Shuuzou succeeded him as the 110th emperor.
However Nijimura Shuuzou also quickly gave up on the title when he deemed himself unworthy of it. At his recommendation, Akashi Seijuurou became the next emperor. This caused an outrage in the entire empire. He is not yet a man, he is too inexperienced, many critics shouted. They were all silenced when they saw his success.
History books all record the various achievements the 111th emperor attained. He decreased the unemployment rate to zero. People were granted equal rights, no matter their race nor origin. Crimes were literally non-existent. Every conquest ended with very few losses. It is this era that shone the most of them all, yet also had the bloodiest history.
What was lost to the coming generations, for this knowledge is not known to anyone, was that he had one person he considered friend. Of all his acquaintances - he had them all, from brave warriors and intelligent advisors to cunning merchants and skilled secret agents, that person was the only one he did not keep because he was useful, but out of fond childhood memory, when they were still innocent children.
That friend, however, disappeared one day. Coincidentally, at the same time, a rebel group surfaced. They declared their intention of overthrowing the emperor, they accused him of being a cruel person who did not care for the weak, sick and elderly.
Though their initial success was impressive - one of their founding members stood up and fought toe-to-toe against the army’s field marshal Aomine Daiki, a man capable of taking down an entire army by himself - it also did not last long. Most of the success of the rebel group’s subjugation was credited to one Mayuzumi Chihiro: a spy, also known as the phantom. Historians still debate whether he truly existed or not.
The rebels, who had been taken by surprise, fled. Many of them were caught, others were killed, while very few of them were able to escape. The emperor himself participated in the raid, a decision that surprised many. He had not participated in any raids or conquests for a long time.
Amongst the captives was one young man, younger than the other rebels. The emperor himself caught him, for his presence was very weak and nobody else would have noticed him.
The prisoners were taken to the cells, and one after another was questioned for their leaders’ whereabouts. None of them knew, and the few that did, kept silent. Most of them never made it out of the torture chambers. The handful surviving prisoners, it was decided, would be executed in public, to make an example and demonstrate the emperor’s strength.
The day of the execution arrived. To everyone’s shock, the emperor himself attended the execution, and even more shocking was his announcement that he would be the one to end the rebels’ lives. They were brought forth swiftly, and he executed them without even sparing them a single glance. The row shortened, until only one person was left - the young man the emperor himself had caught. He walked up to face him.
"Is there nothing more important than victory?" His friend asked, whispered, because his voice was hoarse from endless hours of torture.
"There is not." Akashi answered and struck down.
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Pyrrhic victory (noun): a victory or goal achieved at too great a cost.