[This guy isn't an ordinary person.]
The tavern owner looked at Wes Elwin, who remained calm and indifferent despite the greedy gazes of the pirates around him, and made a mental note.
"What does the guest wish to ask?" the owner's tone became noticeably more respectful as he handed Wes a glass of rum.
"Jack Sparrow," Wes said unhurriedly, his voice cutting clearly through the noisy tavern.
"Jack Sparrow? He's looking for the captain of the Black Pearl," one pirate exclaimed in surprise. His words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirring a wave of commotion throughout the tavern.
As the name rippled through the crowd, the other pirates became visibly excited. They turned their heads, whispering to one another in rising waves of chatter.
"That's the infamous pirate legend!" another pirate added enthusiastically.
It was as if they were discussing a legendary figure—someone both feared and admired.
The pirates began recalling tales of Jack Sparrow's adventures: thrilling escapades, daring feats, and his legendary cunning.
The scent of rum was heavy in the air, smoke coiling beneath the low, flickering lights, lending the tavern a mysterious and dangerous atmosphere.
"Looks like that guy's quite the celebrity," Wes remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he fixed his eyes on the tavern owner, silently pressing for more.
"You won't disappoint me… will you?"
His gaze was sharp, deep enough to seem like it could see straight through a person's soul.
Outside, waves crashed against the shore with a rolling roar, and the sea breeze, tinged with the salt of the ocean, howled past—adding a primal, wild edge to the tension simmering inside the tavern.
As the silent standoff between Wes and the owner dragged on, the background noise gradually died down. All eyes shifted to the two men, the room holding its breath for the answer soon to come.
The tavern owner pondered quietly: Why is he so interested in Jack Sparrow? He tried to gauge the true identity and intentions of this mysterious guest.
Driven by the lure of gold, the owner decided to share some less-critical intel with Wes.
But just as he was about to speak, two pirates staggered toward them.
One of them, face flushed red and eyes glazed with drink, held a flintlock pistol tightly in his hand, the barrel aimed straight at Wes's forehead with hostile intent.
The other, even more brazen, casually grabbed the glass of rum off the counter and smirked arrogantly. "What's wrong? This kind of drink not good enough for a noble lord like you?"
"I'm Bucky. Used to serve aboard the Black Pearl," the pirate said proudly.
His words had barely left his mouth when gasps of surprise burst from the other pirates.
In that moment, the tavern turned into a buzzing hive.
The air was choked with the heavy, almost suffocating smell of rum, the stench of sweat clinging to the pirates' bodies, and the salty tang of seawater. The tavern had become a giant cauldron of clashing, pungent odors.
Bucky basked in the sudden spotlight, lifting his chin slightly. His eyes gleamed with excitement, and his face twitched with smug satisfaction.
Everyone's attention locked onto him—as if, in that instant, he too had become someone important, someone worthy of awe.
"Hand over all your gold," Bucky slurred, letting out a loud belch. The thick stench of alcohol spread instantly. His voice dripped with greed and threat. "Maybe then I'll consider letting you go."
Wes didn't even bother to respond to such an imbecile. With a calm, graceful wave of his hand, brimming with restrained power—
The pirate aiming a pistol at his head was suddenly struck by an invisible force and sent flying.
The man's body traced an arc through the air before crashing violently into a cluster of tables. Bottles and glasses scattered and shattered with sharp, ringing crashes.
He didn't get up.
The surrounding pirates stared in stunned silence. Some widened their eyes in disbelief; others gaped so wide it looked like they could swallow an egg.
"What the hell just happened?" a pirate asked, his voice trembling with fear, echoing through the tavern and stirring unease.
"W-What's going on?!" another one yelled in panic, instinctively stepping back.
"He's a sorcerer!! A sorcerer!!" cried out a more seasoned pirate, his voice high-pitched with dread.
In pirate lore, sorcerers were said to be even more terrifying and wicked than pirates themselves.
Panic erupted in the tavern.
The pirates scrambled back in terror, pushing away from Wes like he was a demon risen from the depths of hell.
Wes calmly pointed his wand. Petrificus Totalus.
Bucky froze mid-motion, body stiffening, eyes wide with horror and despair. His muscles twitched, veins bulged on his forehead—but he couldn't move a single inch.
Wes approached him slowly. Regret filled Bucky's eyes. He had survived most of his life with caution, only to ruin it all in a drunken act of arrogance.
But it was too late.
Wes's black pupils looked like bottomless whirlpools. Bucky's eyes quickly dimmed, losing their spirit—as if his very soul had been stripped away.
Legilimens.
Wes dove into Bucky's mind, sifting through his memories.
But the results were disappointing.
Bucky had indeed once served aboard the Black Pearl—but had long since left. He knew nothing of Jack Sparrow's current whereabouts.
"What a waste of time," Wes muttered with a frown. He turned his gaze toward the tavern owner, eyes filled with expectation and authority. "I've already been disappointed once."
The tavern owner silently cursed Bucky and his ancestors.
His face turned pale, beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and he trembled as he forced a pitiful smile.
"Of course, I wouldn't dare disappoint a mighty sorcerer like yourself."
He knew full well this mysterious wizard wasn't someone he could afford to cross.
So he spilled everything he knew about Jack Sparrow in hopes of quelling the sorcerer's anger.
After defeating Davy Jones, Jack Sparrow had vanished from the seas. Only a handful of people had seen him since. But most believed the man was secretly scheming something big—Jack Sparrow was never one to fade quietly into obscurity.
As for Hector Barbossa, he had encountered Blackbeard, Edward Teach, while commanding the Black Pearl. Defeated and having lost a leg, Barbossa had no choice but to join the British Royal Navy and became a state-sanctioned privateer.
"That's all I know," the owner said nervously, nearly swearing on his mother's life to prove he wasn't lying. His eyes were filled with fear and anxiety. "Truly, sir wizard. I wouldn't dare deceive you."
"So it's around this point in time," Wes murmured to himself, realizing exactly when he'd arrived in the timeline. "The Fountain of Youth, huh?"
He seemed to be contemplating a major decision.
Then, he pulled out a gold coin and flipped it toward the tavern owner with elegance.
"Your information was useful. This covers the damage to the furniture," Wes said before turning to leave.
The pirates in his path stepped aside without hesitation, terrified of provoking the sorcerer any further.
The tavern owner looked down at the two gold coins in his hand with conflicted feelings. He feared they might be cursed—but in the end, couldn't bear to part with them. He carefully tucked them into his pouch.
"Spend them fast," he muttered to himself. "If there's a curse, let someone else inherit it."
Muttering and grumbling, he hoisted the petrified Bucky onto his shoulder and dumped him into the street.
Whether Bucky starved, got eaten by some beast, or survived until the spell wore off—that was now up to fate.
°°°
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