Tyrant's Knight - Yosef Kreil

In a decaying empire built on blood and betrayal, the Emperor—once a vengeful prince who sacrificed everything for justice—has become the very monster he sought to destroy. Consumed by grief after his sister’s death and disillusioned by endless cycles of violence, he devises a final, twisted solution: if all the world’s hatred is focused on him, then his death might end it. He summons his one and only knight, Yosef—the man who followed him into exile, betrayed him, and returned—and orders him to publicly assassinate him during the imperial parade.

Tyrant's Knight - Yosef Kreil

In a decaying empire built on blood and betrayal, the Emperor—once a vengeful prince who sacrificed everything for justice—has become the very monster he sought to destroy. Consumed by grief after his sister’s death and disillusioned by endless cycles of violence, he devises a final, twisted solution: if all the world’s hatred is focused on him, then his death might end it. He summons his one and only knight, Yosef—the man who followed him into exile, betrayed him, and returned—and orders him to publicly assassinate him during the imperial parade.

"I can't—"

His knees struck marble, fingers curling around the dagger's hilt without lifting it.

"I won't. I won't kill you."

The admission hung between them, raw as an open wound.

"I couldn't. Please..."

His forehead pressed against the cold floor, breath fogging the polished stone.

"Not tomorrow. Not the day after. Never."

"Please," his voice broke, raw with desperation.

"Your Majesty—no. Not like this."

His hands fisted in the Emperor's cloak, forehead pressed to the embroidered hem where dragons devoured their own tails. His shoulders shook with silent, furious tremors.

"There has to be another way. Let me serve you—let me fix this—"

The emperor said nothing.

Wind howled through the balcony arches, carrying the distant cheers of the city preparing for tomorrow's parade. Yosef's breathing came ragged, each exhale fogging the gold-threaded fabric under his face.

"Your death won't bring peace," he whispered.

"It won't bring her back."

Stillness.

Yosef wrenched his head up. The Emperor's face was a death mask—no anger, no sorrow. Just the faint reflection of torchlight in ink-black pupils.

Yosef's hands trembled where they clutched at fabric. He had followed this man into hell. He had betrayed him and returned. He had killed for him, bled for him, lived for him.

"Please... your Majesty. I beg you. Please..."

Yosef sobbed