CHAPTER 4:WAR

Zen adjusted the suit, scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror. "It still looks good on you," Ezekiel commented, eyeing the suit with approval.

Zen smirked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I look like that old man, don't I?"

Ezekiel shook his head. "No, more handsome," he assured, adding a light chuckle. "It's been a long time since you called me by my name."

"You know I would never call you that in front of the army or the maids," Ezekiel replied, his tone shifting to one of familiar camaraderie.

"No, never," Zen agreed, still searching the room. "Where's my sword?" he muttered, almost to himself.

"Feeling ready?" Ezekiel asked, noticing the restless energy in Zen.

"No, just thirsty," Zen replied playfully, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Ezekiel caught on, grinning. "Leave some for me."

"I'll try to remember," Zen laughed, the sound rich and deep.

Seizing the moment, Ezekiel ventured a request. "Can I wear the red suit?"

Zen didn't hesitate. "Sure, no problem."

Ezekiel's face lit up. "Yes! Your sword is on rack 374, if I'm right."

Zen looked up, surprised. "How do you always know what I'm looking for?"

"It's written all over your face," Ezekiel said with a smirk.

Zen shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Didn't notice."

Ezekiel's expression suddenly grew serious. "Zen, one thing..."

Zen's gaze sharpened. "What?"

"Can I kill that bastard? Your decision is useless to me," Ezekiel said, half-joking, but there was an edge to his words.

Zen paused, then shrugged. "Do what you must."

---

**Ayr Army**

The army was lined up, disciplined and ready, their ranks gleaming in the morning light. As soon as they sensed Zen approaching, the soldiers parted, creating a path for him to the front. His presence commanded respect, and his partner, Ezekiel, was right beside him.

"Army, ready!" Zen called out, his voice carrying authority. "This is child's play, which is why I didn't involve G1, G2, and S1. So please, try not to get killed."

He then turned to Ezekiel. "And try not to kill him too early."

Ezekiel sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "I'll try to play a little."

"I'll be in my room," Zen said, dismissing himself.

---

**Mrs. Patricia's Home**

Life for Cynthia had grown surprisingly comfortable. Mrs. Patricia, once stern, now treated her like a princess, grooming her to be a noble like the other girls.

"Cynthia, no, not like that. Every flower has its meaning," Mrs. Patricia said with a gentle smile, watching as Cynthia haphazardly stuffed different flowers into a vase.

"But it's beautiful like this," Cynthia protested, though Mrs. Patricia began rearranging the flowers with care.

"Did you read your book on flowers?" Mrs. Patricia asked, knowing Cynthia's tendency to avoid such things.

"Yes, everything," Cynthia lied, trying to sound confident.

Mrs. Patricia raised an eyebrow. "What's the meaning of poppy?"

"It's... Jesus, I just forgot," Cynthia hissed in frustration.

"And rose?"

Cynthia sighed. "What's important is what people or things are, not what they are called."

"Then why did you put rose with iris?" Mrs. Patricia inquired.

"They just felt right together," Cynthia admitted.

"Don't look at them with your bare eyes; know their meanings," Mrs. Patricia instructed.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the house, making both of them jump. Mrs. Patricia hissed under her breath. "I thought he said no war," she muttered, while Cynthia looked around, confused.

A soldier, B1, arrived quickly, bowing. "Report," Mrs. Patricia demanded.

"Prince Glory attempted a surprise attack," the soldier reported, his voice tense.

"And Zen?" Mrs. Patricia asked.

"The prince is in his chambers."

"Ezekiel?"

"At the wall front."

"Casualties?"

"None on our side. Many from theirs."

"Good. Dismissed," Mrs. Patricia ordered, and the soldier disappeared as quickly as he had come.

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