Alexander of Byzantium didn't inherit an empire — he inherited his revenge.
When his brilliant younger brother Leo VI died in 912, the crown finally passed to the man who had spent three decades drinking in the shadows of the Great Palace, watching Constantine's city celebrate someone else. Now it was his turn.
He didn't govern. He detonated.
Within weeks, Alexander had gutted the treasury to fund his banquets, abandoned the frontier garrisons, and picked a deliberate, contemptuous fight with Symeon of Bulgaria — the one man on earth the empire could not afford to provoke. By early 913, Bulgarian armies were torching the countryside and massing at the very walls of Constantinople.
And their emperor lay inside, dying of drink.
This is the story of autocracy at its most spectacular and self-destructive — a man who was handed the most powerful throne on earth and chose, deliberately, to break it.
From his first intoxicated hours wearing the purple to his agonizing death from organ failure in June 913, Alexander's thirteen-month reign stands as history's most devastating proof that power without wisdom isn't just dangerous.
It's fatal.