It is the year 20,500 of the New Stellar Order. Humanity has expanded throughout the vast cosmos, establishing countless independent realms across distant galaxies over centuries past. These small empires engaged in an endless series of wars and conflicts, fighting for control of resources, territories, and power. Peace seemed a distant dream, and war had become the norm in this vast network of stars and planets, with never a day without conflict.

However, from the ashes of this chaos emerged a small kingdom known as Ardeshir, led by a visionary and audacious commander. This kingdom initiated what would become known as the Great Expansion, a titanic military campaign that spanned a thousand years. Through relentless strategies, calculated alliances, and ruthless conquests, Shah Iskander succeeded in unifying the fragmented realms under a single banner, the Sun and the Sword.

The unified empire now finds itself under the command of the legendary Shah Iskander the Glorious. He is an unparalleled military master, a prodigious tactician, a brilliant strategist, and a formidable statesman. His ability to combine the art of war with effective empire management has elevated him to a near-divine status; his name is sung and proclaimed from every birth to every funeral. Iskander has transformed the universe into a vast and cohesive Galactic Empire, establishing an unprecedented order and stability known as the Imperial Peace or Iskander's Peace.

But at the height of his glory, Iskander has neglected crucial aspects of his empire. In his obsession with consolidating power and ensuring the supremacy of his regime, he has postponed personal and familial duties. In an unexpected move, he hastily married a high-ranking noblewoman to secure his line of succession, breaking with the tradition of maintaining a harem like previous Shahs. Perhaps out of love or as a way to maintain peace among factions, his wedding was a masterstroke to secure stability. Now, his wife is expecting two unborn children, who would become the next generation of leaders of the empire.

However, fate has dealt a cruel hand. Iskander, the invincible conqueror, stands on the brink of personal ruin. He has been struck by a devastating illness, a mysterious and lethal condition that has begun to erode his formidable physical and mental faculties. The imperial physicians, with access to the most advanced medical technology in the universe, have been unable to find an effective cure. The disease progresses with alarming speed, leaving Iskander in a state of extreme weakness and undermining his ability to rule.

Now, with the emperor on his deathbed, the balance of power in the Galactic Empire of Iskander is in grave danger, as forces contained by his power and strength begin to stir.

Iskander had trusted in his generals, each a formidable and exceptional figure in their own right. These military leaders had been his primary allies during the Great Expansion, responsible for consolidating and protecting his empire. They were known for their unwavering loyalty, strategic cunning, and ability to command vast fleets of mechs and starships. But now, the emperor's weakness has begun to expose cracks in the empire's apparent stability.

The ambitions of the generals are beginning to surface. With Iskander's health in decline, each of the generals sees an opportunity to consolidate their own power and secure a dominant position in the empire's future.

The Shah's plans to dismantle the army and turn them into regional forces, not interstellar conquest forces, have unraveled. His aim was to accumulate all military power in his person, but all plans for demobilization and discharge are now impossible. The generals, who were previously united under his leadership, are starting to move in the shadows, forming secret alliances and conspiring to secure control over the empire's most strategic regions.

In the shadows of the halls of power and the command quarters, intrigues unfold with increasing intensity. Alliances between generals are forged and broken swiftly. Old comrades turn into ruthless rivals, each seeking the favor of factions loyal to the emperor and leaders of key star systems. Loyalty wavers, and the chain of command is rife with distrust and betrayals.

Meanwhile, Iskander, trapped in his frailty, desperately tries to maintain control. In his moments of lucidity, he faces a war as complex and dangerous as any military conflict he has encountered. He must find a way to restore his empire and secure the future of his unborn children before chaos consumes everything. The question remains: Can the empire sustain itself amid this chaos?

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He advanced down the corridor with a swift pace, his steps echoing with a metallic resonance in the silent hallway. Every movement was made with calculated precision, as if the very floor knew it should yield to his presence. The highly sophisticated security systems continuously scanned the moving figure. Their sensors adjusted the temperature, tracked kinematic patterns, and analyzed DNA, ensuring that every detail was under control. As the person approached, the defensive systems identified and registered the figure with a single name in their files: Porox Kermani.

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The scene was tense and fraught with uncertainty. The imperial guards, with their visors raised, maintained constant vigilance over the hallway adorned with rich tapestries and filled with the scent of incense. The echo of footsteps resounded as the captain and general of the imperial guard advanced solemnly. Each of them strove to maintain a rigid posture, their respect for the man now entering the room evident.

This man, second in power only to the Shah, was the center of attention for everyone present. The fact that Shah Iskander lay on his deathbed had unleashed a series of maneuvers and strategies among the empire's leaders. The news of Iskander's hurried marriage, designed to secure succession, had been met with a mix of skepticism and alarm. A single child, if born and survives, is destined to inherit a throne that seems increasingly uncertain.

The situation in the empire was like a chessboard, with each piece playing its moves with caution and ambition. The generals, once loyal servants of Shah Iskander, had adopted a stance of strategic caution, distancing themselves from the capital and avoiding the chaos unleashed by the impending succession. The accumulation of power and the consolidation of their domains had become their priority.

Each general had found justifications for not returning to the capital. Reports of local rebellions, barbarian invasions, and disturbances in their territories were presented as compelling reasons not to comply with orders from the center of power. These excuses, although sometimes valid, were skillfully used to avoid the risk of losing influence and control at a time when central power was in a state of vulnerability.

Rebellions and internal conflicts had become tools for securing control over their own territories and resources. Each general was building their own networks of loyalty, strengthening their armies, and securing their territories against potential adversaries. These moves were designed not only to protect their current interests but also to strategically position themselves for the uncertain future looming with the Shah's death.

The chamber of Shah Iskander's private room was enveloped in a dense and oppressive atmosphere, accentuated by the dimness surrounding the emperor's bed. The walls, covered with tapestries worn by time, seemed to absorb the despair emanating from the place. The Shah, who had once been an imposing and revered figure, was now reduced to a shadow of his former greatness. His thin, almost skeletal body contrasted with the intensity of his eyes, which still held a gleam of determination and fire despite his physical state.

When he entered the room, the atmosphere grew even more somber. The attendants and counselors present, who stood at a respectful distance in reverential silence, knew that every word and gesture of Shah Iskander was significant. The emperor's broken but firm voice echoed in the silence:

"Why has no one come?" asked Iskander, his tone laden with a mix of fatigue and acute concern. His words seemed directed at his immediate surroundings, and his burning gaze swept over those present, searching for answers.

The silence that followed the Shah's question grew thick, almost palpable, as the counselors and attendants withdrew cautiously.

"Leave," ordered Porox, his voice so strong and full of force that no one hesitated, leaving Shah Iskander and his loyal counselor in a solitude filled with tension. The room, now empty of the multitude of worried faces, seemed to intensify the anguish that permeated the air.

Iskander, his fragile figure resting on the bed, turned his gaze towards Porox. His voice, though weak, held a firmness that belied his physical state:

"What will become of my empire?" he asked, his tone filled with deep sadness and resignation. The Shah's eyes, still full of a spark of determination, sought an answer that he knew was difficult to accept.

Porox, aware of the gravity of the question and the situation, took a deep breath before responding. His voice was calm but laden with the weight of the reality they faced:

"My Shah, the situation is bleak. The disintegration of the imperial unity seems imminent. The generals have consolidated their own powers in their territories and resist any attempts to centralize control from the capital. Rebellions and invasions, whether real or fabricated, have become excuses to avoid obedience. Discontent and ambition are eroding the very foundations of the empire."

The Shah, with an expression mixing pain and acceptance, nodded slowly. The recognition of inevitable destruction seemed to weigh more on his heart than his body. Despite everything, his voice held a note of melancholic reflection:

"I know...," he said in an almost inaudible whisper. "Destruction, right? Decay seems to be the only destiny we are heading towards. I have watched my empire crumble, and as my strength fades, chaos seizes everything we have built."

Porox stepped closer to the Shah's bed, attempting to offer some comfort amidst the despair:

"Not all is lost, my Shah. Although the situation is grave, there are still possibilities for finding a solution. We must try to maintain control as much as possible and seek ways to stabilize the empire before it is too late. The empire's future is not entirely sealed, and though destruction seems near, there is still room for action."

The Shah slightly lifted his head, his eyes reflecting a mix of faint hope and despair. He knew that time was a luxury they could not afford and that every decision made in these critical moments would be crucial in determining the empire's final fate.

"Do what you can, Porox," he finally said, his voice filled with a weakened yet present resolve. "Do what you can to save what remains. Though I can no longer bear the burden, I still hope that those who remain can find a way to preserve what was once great."

Peace was the only dream of my life—no more wars, no more fear, no more terror. The universe should run happily towards peace, but my own greed and ambition for glorious deeds and battles have led me to this... now that wisdom has finally come to me... I cannot bring peace.

"Do not worry, my Shah. I will ensure peace," said Porox. The Shah could not see the greed in his general.