47 - London

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Wes had just left the tavern when he fell into deep thought. He only knew that Jack Sparrow would appear in London, and he had to get there before the plot began; otherwise, the vast sea would make finding the Fountain of Youth nearly impossible.

Sensing approaching footsteps, he turned his gaze toward the dark jungle and said in a deep voice, "Come out."

A rustling sound followed, and a strikingly beautiful woman with healthy brown skin emerged. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, lending her an air of mystery and allure under the moonlight.

Behind her stood a burly, topless black man, his chiseled muscles brimming with silent power.

"Are you a pirate too?" Wes narrowed his eyes, studying the woman carefully.

"Mr. Wizard," Angelica greeted him with a graceful bow, her alluring figure accentuated under Wes's gaze.

But Wes ignored her charm, instead focusing his attention on the man behind her.

"Interesting. I didn't expect to encounter a revenant here. Is this your doing, ma'am?"

Angelica flinched slightly, startled that Wes had recognized the revenant's nature so quickly.

The revenant immediately stepped forward, placing himself protectively in front of Angelica, his stance alert and ready for battle.

"So, it's not you." Wes observed keenly. "He merely follows orders to guard you. That means you must have ties to a voodoo sorcerer."

He had already deduced the woman's identity.

Angelica took a steadying breath and spoke softly, "Mr. Wizard..."

Her voice was smooth, yet a faint tremor betrayed her unease in the tense atmosphere.

"Ma'am, I'm busy. State your purpose." Wes's voice was firm and unyielding, as if an immovable wall had risen between them. Angelica felt a twinge of helplessness.

She was used to swaying men with her beauty—her delicate features, sculpted as if by a master artist, her bright eyes as clear as a tranquil lake, her lips like soft petals. But Wes seemed entirely unaffected.

"I just want to know why you're looking for Jack Sparrow," she finally mustered the courage to ask.

"That's none of your concern, ma'am." His curt response sent a shiver down her spine.

Her fingers unconsciously brushed the grip of the pistol at her waist, the cold metal grounding her.

"In that case, forgive my intrusion." Angelica's voice carried resignation as she cautiously stepped back.

"Wait." Wes's voice cut through the night, making Angelica's heart lurch.

[Is he going to attack?] A whirlwind of thoughts raced through her mind.

The revenant gripped his axe tightly, muscles coiled, prepared to fight to the death for her safety.

But Angelica raised a hand, stopping him. She had no desire to become this wizard's enemy unless absolutely necessary.

"Which direction is London?" Wes asked, his tone as calm as if the tension moments ago had never existed.

"East. Just keep going east, and you'll get there," she replied quickly, eager to conclude their encounter.

"Thank you." Wes nodded. Then, to Angelica's astonishment, he suddenly soared into the air.

"My God," she murmured, watching him disappear into the night. "I must find Jack before he does."

Unfortunately for her, Wes had reached the same conclusion. He had already recognized her as Jack Sparrow's lover and intended to reach him first.

Wes sped toward London in his carefully modified luxury flying car. Built after Christmas with significant contributions from the twin brothers, the vehicle was more than mere transportation—it was a mobile fortress.

Spacious like a small apartment, it even housed a comfortable bed, making it a literal hotel in the air. The flying car blazed across the sky like a streak of lightning.

As dawn broke, Wes glimpsed the distant outline of London. The sprawling city, resembling a slumbering giant, stretched across the landscape.

Crossing the Thames, Wes landed in a secluded spot and cast an invisibility spell over his car to keep it hidden.

London of the 17th century unfolded before his eyes.

Narrow, winding cobblestone streets echoed with crisp footfalls, as if whispering the city's history. Wooden houses lined both sides, weathered by time, their walls faded and worn. The rooftops glimmered faintly in the morning sun, where pigeons perched, adding a touch of liveliness to the ancient city.

London's commercial district was bustling. Shops and signboards crowded the streets, selling everything from fine fabrics and exotic spices to books and trinkets. Merchants stood outside their stores, calling out to potential customers with infectious enthusiasm, their voices forming a symphony of trade.

Women in flowing skirts and wide-brimmed hats perused fresh produce, baskets in hand. Men in robes and top hats debated business and politics.

Down at the port, activity surged. Massive sailing ships lined the docks, their towering masts cutting into the sky, sails snapping in the wind. Sailors scurried about, hauling cargo—crates of treasures, barrels of goods—bound for distant lands.

The salty tang of seawater mingled with the rich scent of trade. Above, seagulls cried out, their voices blending into the vibrant rhythm of the port.

At the height of its power, Britain, armed with its formidable navy and the East India Company, looted wealth from across the world, earning the title "Empire on which the Sun Never Sets." But none of this mattered to Wes.

His only concern was timing.

After asking around, he confirmed that he had arrived early. No significant disturbances had occurred in London yet.

With time to spare, he settled in, deciding to sample the cuisine of this era.

Regrettably, his curiosity was swiftly punished.

Britain's infamous reputation as a "food desert" was well earned. Each dish was a cruel assault on his palate, leaving him traumatized. The flavors were either bizarre or utterly bland—an unrelenting disaster in every bite.

Even the desserts, deceptively elegant in appearance, were overwhelmingly sweet, as if drenched in syrup, rendering them nauseating rather than indulgent.

The days passed quickly, and at last, the long-awaited news arrived—Jack Sparrow had appeared in London.