Chapter 2: Morgan

　　The hooded figure blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He felt disoriented, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He looked down at his hands, which appeared much smaller than usual. His skin felt soft and smooth, and his hair felt fine and delicate to the touch. He couldn`t quite remember how he had gotten here or what they were supposed to be doing.

　　It appeared that he was in a cave. He questioned why he was in the cave too. It was surreal, and frankly paradoxical.

　　"You`re awake!" A young girl`s voice rattled. The hooded figure looked up.

　　"Erza?" He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

　　"We were going fishing with my dad, remember ———?" He replied urgently, "But we got separated, and those weird fur-covered people attacked us. They threw us in here with the boat!"

　　A loud crash of thunder shook the small space, making Erza jump. The hooded figure`s heart began to race as he tried to make sense of what was happening. He felt like he was in a dream, but couldn`t seem to wake up from it.

　　"Is Uncle Brennan going to save us?" The hooded figure asked, his voice trembling.

　　"Of course he is!" Erza exclaimed confidently, "He`s the strongest man I know. He always saves us!"

　　But he couldn`t shake the feeling that something was off. Her head began to spin, and she stumbled backwards. Erza started to approach her, moving faster and faster until he felt like she was going to be swallowed whole.

　　The hooded figure tried to speak, but no sound came out. He felt like she was suffocating, drowning in a sea of confusion and fear. As Erza closed in, his vision began to fade, and everything went black.

　　His scream echoed through the room, piercing the bustling town atmosphere. It was a guttural, primal sound that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, expressing raw anguish and terror. His voice cracked and broke as he unleashed the full force of his despair, the sound carrying on the wind like a mournful cry.

　　The scream seemed to go on and on, as if Morgan had an endless supply of breath to fuel his agony. It was a sound that would chill anyone to the bone, the kind that made your hair stand on end and your heart race with fear. It was the sound of a man pushed beyond the limits of what he could endure, a scream that spoke of deep and unbearable pain.

　　As the echo of Morgan`s scream faded away, the forest was left in a hushed and eerie silence, as if God were listening to his cry. It was a sound that would haunt anyone who heard it, a reminder of the fragility of the human spirit and the depths of despair that we can sometimes reach.

　　The wail that followed Morgan`s scream was equally haunting, but it was a different kind of sound altogether. It was a mournful, high-pitched cry that seemed to come from a place of deep sorrow and grief. Unlike the scream, which was filled with raw emotion and pain, the wail was a sound of resignation and acceptance.

　　It was a sound that spoke of loss and heartbreak, the kind of sound that could only come from someone who had experienced great tragedy. It was a sound that made your heart ache with empathy and your eyes well up with tears. It was the sound of someone who had been broken by the weight of the world, but who was still willing to carry on despite the pain.

　　After that entire emotional episode, he calmed his senses down. He touched the spot where his heart was underneath, and he could feel the terrified beat that his heartbeat played, Then, the door of his room banged with concern.

　　"Morgan?" A voice on the door eeked through. "Are you alright? I heard you crying and shouting in there!"

　　"Yeah? Hey, Roland. Don`t open the door." Morgan replied. "I-I`m alright& It`s nothing you should worry about."

　　Roland hesitated for a moment before responding, "Are you sure you`re okay, Morgan? I`m here for you if you need anything."

　　Morgan took a deep breath and replied, "Thanks, Roland. I appreciate it, but I just need some time alone right now."

　　Roland understood and respected Morgan`s request for space. "Alright, Morgan. Just remember that I`m here for you whenever you need me."

　　Morgan nodded and heard footsteps leaving the door. He then looked around at his room.

　　Morgan`s room was a small but cozy space tucked away in the corner of the guild`s building, compared to the larger rooms that other guild members have. Apparently, the previous owner had died during a failed quest and was quite dusty when Morgan arrived. The walls were made of old, weathered bricks that gave the room a rustic feel. There was a single, small window with a wooden frame that overlooked the bustling harbor below. The window was covered by a thin, cream-colored curtain that gently swayed in the ocean breeze.

　　The room was sparsely furnished, with only the essentials. There was a simple wooden bed with a blue and green plaid comforter, a small wooden nightstand with a flickering candle on top, and a wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room. The wardrobe had a few shelves where Morgan kept his clothes and a small drawer where he kept his personal belongings.

　　There were a few personal touches in the room that made it feel more like home. A small woven rug with intricate patterns lay on the floor, and a few hand-sewn tapestries adorned the walls. A small bookshelf held a few of Morgan`s favorite books, including a leather-bound journal where he kept his thoughts and memories. Overall, the room had a warm and inviting feel, despite its simplicity.

　　He walked over to the lengthy mirror in front of him and stared at his tan skin, examining the scars that marred it. He also noticed his pointed ears, which were not as long as an elf`s, but he knew people would still judge him for them. Morgan got dressed and walked over to the window to gaze out at the bustling city below. Despite the breathtaking view of the harbor, Morgan`s mind was preoccupied with the loneliness and despair that had been consuming him for days.

　　Before leaving, he put on the hood that Jack had given him, which had become an heirloom to him. Morgan reminisced about Jack`s kindness, who had taught him how to sew. Looking back, he wished he could`ve been there for Jack in return. He shook his head and opened the door.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author`s consent. Report any sightings.

　　As he walked through the guild`s tavern, Roland greeted him, "Finally came out, huh. And you`re still wearing the hood?"

　　Morgan nodded, "It`s an heirloom."

　　Roland was a bit puzzled, but he let it go. "Is Lydia there? I want to do something today with her. Geuzen festival`s happening today, and I thought it would be a good distraction to play around."

　　Roland replied, "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Lydia left for Trulenia four hours ago, it`s already noon."

　　Morgan turned towards Roland, feeling a bit disappointed, "I see... I guess I`ll just have to find something else to do then." Morgan sighed, feeling the brunt of loneliness. "I`m gonna stroll around town."

　　Morgan stepped out into the bustling streets of the city, filled with people celebrating the Geuzen festival. The sound of laughter and music filled the air, but Morgan felt detached from it all. He wandered aimlessly through the crowded streets, feeling lost and alone.

　　As Morgan was strolling, he came across a poster advertising a delivery job at a nearby bakery. The thought of earning some extra cash piqued his interest, and he decided to check it out. Upon reaching the quaint bakery, the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries made him crave a snack. A friendly woman greeted him at the counter. She was a fat, middle-aged woman whose eye bags were as deep as a well. She had a genuine smile on her, despite that.

　　"Hello there, umm&" Morgan stammered.

　　"Well, well. It`s Morgan from the guild!" The woman exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Isn`t it your day off today since the Geuzen festival`s happening?"

　　"I saw the poster outside your bakery, and I was wondering if I could do anything to help you. I don`t need any kind of money, it`s just out of my own& what`s it called?"

　　The woman paused and thought for a while before smiling, "My, my. I had an order of some of my pastries made by Lee from the bar."

　　She put out a basket of cookies and croissants onto the desk. "Could you take this to his tavern, Morgan dearie? It`s the one on the western side of town?"

　　"Sure ma`am." He replied.

　　-break-

　　As he walked along the cobblestone path, he noticed a commotion up ahead. A group of people had gathered around Lee`s tavern, watching a drunken brawl that had broken out between two men. Morgan hesitated, not wanting to get involved, but his curiosity got the better of him. He made his way to the edge of the crowd, trying to get a better view of what was happening.

　　They were both heavily intoxicated and were slurring their words. Morgan could hear them shouting at each other, but he couldn`t quite make out what they were saying.

　　"You think you`re better than me, huh? I`ll show you who`s boss!"

　　"I don`t think I`m better than you, I know I am! You`re nothing but a worthless drunk!"

　　"Shut your mouth! You don`t know what you`re talking about!"

　　"I know enough to know that you`re a sorry excuse for a man!"

　　"You`re asking for it, buddy! I`ll teach you some manners!"

　　"Bring it on! I`m not afraid of you!"

　　The men continue to exchange insults and taunts as they throw punches and stumble around, causing a ruckus and drawing even more attention from the onlookers.

　　As the fight continued, Morgan noticed that one of the men had a knife in his hand. He immediately felt a surge of fear and knew that he needed to do something to stop the fight before someone got hurt.

　　Without thinking, Morgan pushed his way through the crowd and stepped in between the two men. He raised his hands in a calming gesture and spoke in a firm voice, trying to diffuse the situation.

　　"Hey, guys, calm down. Let`s talk about this. There`s no need for anyone to get hurt here."

　　For a moment, it seemed like Morgan`s words had worked. The two men paused their fighting and looked at him. But then, one of them suddenly lunged forward, knife in hand.

　　Morgan quickly dodged the attack and managed to grab the knife out of the man`s hand. He threw it to the ground and tackled the man to the ground, restraining him.

　　"Let me go, you stupid monkey!" The drunken man cursed, "I ain`t done talking to that man over there! Let me go and let me have my way with him."

　　Morgan gritted his teeth at the slur but kept his grip on the man. "No one is going to have their way with anyone," he said firmly. "You need to calm down and think about what you`re doing. Fighting like this isn`t going to solve anything."

　　The other man, still standing and panting heavily, looked at Morgan with a mixture of anger and confusion. "Who are you to tell us what to do?" he growled.

　　Morgan stood up, still keeping a firm grip on the man beneath him. "I`m just someone who doesn`t want to see anyone get hurt," he said calmly. "Why don`t you both just go home and sleep it off?"

　　The two men glared at him for a moment before finally nodding in agreement. Morgan released the man he was holding and watched as they stumbled off in opposite directions, still muttering insults under their breath. The crowd followed suit, returning back to Lee`s tavern.

　　Morgan then stood up and went back to check on the pastries. They were gone.

　　He frowned, looking at the empty basket where the pastries had been. He had been so caught up in breaking up the fight that he hadn`t even noticed someone taking them.

　　"Damn it," he muttered to himself. "That woman worked so hard on those."

　　"That`s not a good enough story for the papers&" A voice whined, "Damn it, this isn`t much. A drunken brawl won`t get more people to buy the newspaper."

　　A woman with dark blue hair dressed up like a newspaper journalist was standing by. She noticed Morgan on the floor and flashed a small smirk.

　　She approached Morgan, holding a notebook and a pen in her hand. "Excuse me, sir," she said, "I couldn`t help but overhear your conversation with those men. May I ask what you were thinking at that moment?"

　　Morgan looked at the woman, a little surprised by her sudden appearance. "I was just trying to prevent a fight," he said, "and make sure everyone got home safely."

　　The woman raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?" she asked. "Do you have a personal stake in this?"

　　Morgan shook his head. "No, not really," he said. "I just think that violence doesn`t solve anything. We need to learn how to talk to each other and find common ground."

　　The woman scribbled something down in her notebook. "Interesting," she said. "And what`s your name, sir?"

　　"Morgan," he said.

　　"Well, Morgan," she said, "I think you might have a more interesting story than you realize. Would you mind if I interviewed you for the newspaper?"

　　Morgan hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"

　　And with that, the woman began asking him questions, scribbling furiously in her notebook as he spoke. Morgan couldn`t help but feel a little embarrassed by all the attention, but he also felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that he had done something good that night. Maybe, just maybe, he had made a small difference in someone`s life.

　　"And that`s that." The woman nodded, "Your input is most welcome. Heh."

　　"Well, that`s all that matters. I simply keep the peace with my guildmates. Though, I don`t know where they could`ve gone."

　　"Mr. Morgan." The woman inquired, "I`ve forgotten to introduce myself, I was too busy with my questions that I forgot! Most sincerest apologies, but my name is Lucille Styron. You may call me Lucille or Lucy if you want. I do not mind."

　　"Oh, alright."

　　"I have a favor to ask of you, Morgan. Could you protect me?"