[IFITAOAMV] Chapter 22

"Another failure?" A young man with silver hair that gleamed in the light brushed it back from his forehead in frustration.

The masked figure kneeling before him bowed his head even lower. "I apologise, Your Highness."

"And the survivor?" The young man asked, his voice laced with irritation.

When the masked figure remained silent, the young man sighed heavily.

"Kasan."

"Yes, Your Highness." Kasan, the masked man, responded immediately.

"It was I who chose you as the leader of Raven when my father granted me control over it," Crown Prince Genoa said slowly, letting his gaze fall upon Kasan.

"Do not disappoint me." Though his tone was almost gentle, the chill in his eyes was unmistakable.

Kasan's crimson eyes trembled slightly under Genoa's piercing gaze. "I will find them, without fail."

"And do not forget to continue the search for any other survivors."

With that, Kasan bowed deeply before vanishing like smoke.

"Tch, where in the world are they hiding?" Genoa muttered, loosening his cravat in frustration.

Despite spreading rumors and even enlisting tomb raiders to scour the Muhas Desert, there had been no significant progress. His father's increasing pressure was starting to get under his skin.

*My father failed, yet he expects so much from me,* Genoa thought bitterly. *What is so impressive about wiping out the Jueri when Crawford is still alive?*

*Crawford is not just alive but thriving—alive enough to kill my Ravens every time they engage him.* The thought twisted Genoa’s handsome features into an angry grimace.

*How is he still alive?* 

The Jueri clan was supposed to be entirely eradicated. Despite years of searching, not a single strand of hair had been found. And yet, Crawford remained—still very much alive and possessing all the powers of his accursed family.

Genoa's fist slammed down onto the desk with a resounding crack. *As long as Crawford remains, the imperial power will never be complete.*

The current Aserian Empire was heavily influenced by the noble houses, with each region being more loyal to their local lords than to the central authority. The East was controlled by the Duke of Peyton, the West by the Duke of Crawford, the South by the Duke of Shavini, and the North by the Grand Duke of Haisen.

Among these, the Crawford family was the military backbone of the Empire, guarding the western borders with the strongest knights and warriors. In terms of pure military might, they surpassed the other noble families—and even the imperial family itself. Moreover, the direct line of the Crawford family was known for producing individuals with unparalleled strength.

If such a powerful family were loyal to the imperial family, nothing would be more reassuring. But the Crawfords were notoriously proud, the most obstinate of the four great houses. Controlling them was out of the question.

*They’re madmen,* Genoa thought. *Capable of burning the Empire to the ground if they feel like it.*

This had always made the Crawford family a thorn in the side of every emperor. Maintaining a peaceful, non-interfering relationship was the best anyone could hope for. There had been emperors who tried to subdue the Crawfords by force, but all had failed and had been forced to kneel to them.

Despite knowing this, Genoa's father had been unable to tolerate their arrogance. His obsession with imperial power and his overwhelming desire for control had driven him to attempt to bring down the Crawfords—an effort that had only half succeeded, leaving the family still defiant.

*My imperial authority must be absolute. Aserian is mine,* Genoa resolved, his clenched fists trembling with anger. To achieve this, the Crawfords had to be eradicated—completely, without leaving a trace.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in."

"The Duke of Shavini is waiting for you, Your Highness," announced Dillon, his aide, with a respectful bow.

"Very well." Genoa stood, adjusting his attire.

*Has the bait finally been taken? It seems the hunt can begin,* he thought, a satisfied smile curling his lips.

He left his study and made his way to the private audience chamber reserved for the Crown Prince.

"The small sun of Aserian, Crown Prince Genoa," greeted a well-built, middle-aged man who stood up and bowed deeply as Genoa entered. His faded brown hair fell slightly over his forehead.

"Welcome, Duke Shavini." Genoa's graceful smile and poise only enhanced his already striking appearance.

"Heh, even foreign lands are said to be charmed by Your Highness’s beauty. Now I understand why the young ladies' hearts are so easily swayed."

"Duke, you flatter me. Please, have a seat."

Though he pretended to dismiss the compliment, Genoa's smile deepened, clearly pleased.

"How much longer do you intend to keep the young ladies waiting for your decision?" The Duke of Shavini asked, gently pressing the matter of marriage.

"For the stability of the imperial power, it cannot be delayed much longer," Genoa responded with a serene smile.

"Then..." The Duke's eyes gleamed with interest.

“Soon, it will be time to select a crown princess,” Genoa remarked, his voice taking on a more calculated tone.

The Duke of Shavini’s light blue eyes briefly flickered with interest, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by Genoa. A fleeting, knowing smile played on the prince’s lips before it vanished.

“Choosing one’s fated partner is no small task, so I plan to be quite thorough,” Genoa continued.

“Indeed, Your Highness. The crown princess, who will one day become the empress, must be chosen with the utmost care,” the Duke agreed heartily, nodding his head and laughing deeply.