The breeze blew softly across the plains, the golden wheat undulating with the wind. A farmer, wearing a bamboo hat, straightened up from the rice paddies. He watched the arriving winged person with amazement before bending down again.
Even after their King's marriage, winged people from afar became increasingly common, but it hardly mattered to the locals; life remained largely unaffected.
Life continued as usual—trying to stay fed and warm still depended on one's own hands. Yet, there were some changes regardless.
A winged person in a dark blue uniform flew over from the distant sky. Rather than leaving swiftly as others had, he circled around, seemingly identifying the terrain.
Soon, he confirmed this was his destination and quickly descended, "Who is a family member of John Deer? I have a letter from him."
"Hm?" From the winged person's words, an astute old farmer straightened up from the wheat field, looking towards the hovering winged person above.
"I am his father."