The Veracious Middle of the Roads

The seigneur stretched out in his most comfortable chair behind the large work desk of his. His desk that is piled with scrolls and letters, recommendations and other related business with his position, and that of the Monsoon. After all, he was none other than the Rain’s Lord, Izaya. He briefly exhaled deeply and relieved a deep sigh, rubbing his temples. The man wasn’t too fond of all the paperwork, but, well, who else is going to do it for him? He twirled his chair to face his village; the rain clattering against the large windows, thunder roaring and lightning striking down in the far distance. “The perfect day for a perfect match with the perfect weather.” The man whisked with a slim smirk that dawned on his lips. He rose up from his position, nearing the window and placed his hand against it. His smirk widening, he had triumphed to acquire his most beloved. He, the seigneur, gazed at the crowd of ravens on the thin wires, the eyes. But, today was not the day that he would exercise that amount of strength, again. “Oh, right.” Izaya turned around to head out of his office, and the tallest skyscraper of the village, “Business is to be attended.” And as he neared the exit, one of the assistants of his coworkers brought him an umbrella. He smiled kindly at her, “You didn’t have to do that. Thanks.” With that, the lord headed out into the crowd with the umbrella protecting him from the falling rain.

The sound of the rain soothed him, nonetheless. Several of the ravens neared him, which caused the attention of the people around him. An intruder? He chuckled in response, bringing down his umbrella to allow the ravens to rest on his shoulders. He resorted back with the umbrella sheltering them from the droplets. Murmurs arose, for they knew who it was now. After all, it was rare for the lord to hit the road at such an early time. Let alone in this kind of weather. Nevertheless, the people didn’t disturb him as he quietly passed them. Finally, he arrived at the closed gate… which took him forever. In the end, the children found out about his escape from the village, and demanded that he would give them a moment of his time. How could Izaya deny the residence, let alone the future, of his village?

And so, far off the monsoon, the seigneur none other than Izaya, stood near the coast. His ravens resting at the rocks that towered over the man. His aura emanating while watching over the village from afar. Yet, he was still sheltered underneath the umbrella. “My, my. I wonder if I was too late or too early.”