Pride.

That was the weakness of all empires—pride was a damsel they all claimed. They were all prideful, and Portugal was no exception.

But now, it was pride that had brought the Portuguese Empire down. Napoleon had taken his empire and crushed it beneath his heel. Portugal couldn’t believe it—couldn't accept it: his empire, invaded and decimated by a short Frenchman. It was utterly humiliating.

Now, Portugal had fled to Brazil, wandering through his palace, consumed by thoughts of his losses—his empire, his country. “I can't believe it...” he muttered under his breath, probably for the hundredth time that day.