Walking through the now-deserted streets of Port Royal were three figures… well, one person and two animals.
They were Puss, Jack, and Tornado.
Most of the town's population was currently in hiding, barricading their homes in fear of a possible pirate attack.
As Puss wandered, looking for a place to stay, a memory from earlier came back to him.
Besides the difference in the situation, he noticed the absence of a figure he remembered from the movies—a Black boy who stayed with the Harbormaster. He didn't know the boy's identity, but given the historical context, there was a high chance he had been a slave. Yet in this world, he wasn't here.
In fact, from what Puss knew, this world had never gone through the transatlantic slave trade involving African peoples.
There was still slavery, but it typically involved less fortunate individuals who had been sold, and they could be from any background or color. Even so, it wasn't something commonly seen.
And that was one of the big reasons why Puss hadn't encountered any Black people in this life. Of course, they still existed—some sailed and traded too—but places like Port Royal, Jamaica, probably had very few Black residents.
Puss considered this a good thing. After all, even though slavery existed, it wasn't as widespread or accepted as it had been in his previous world during the same period, and it didn't target Black people in particular. Maybe in this world's future, racism wouldn't be such a common thing, as unfortunately it had been in his past life
That thought also reminded him of the earlier question he had asked Jack, which had gone unanswered.
"You didn't say—why didn't you just give any random name to the harbormaster and pay just one shilling?" Puss asked.
Of course, he knew the question had gone unanswered because he had interrupted Jack before, and the topic had drifted elsewhere.
"Well, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted..." Jack began, shooting a teasing glance at Puss, who rolled his eyes as Jack continued.
"... for people like me, pirates, we have a few easily recognizable traits—"
Jack started to explain, but Puss cut in.
"Stench, ugliness, and wickedness?" He asked, teasing Jack.
What gave away that he was joking rather than serious was the tone of his voice and his green eyes, visible beneath the hood, narrowing in amusement.
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but wrinkled his nose—realizing it was hard to deny.
"Well, some escape the ugliness, like myself—who is quite the opposite. But yes, basically that." He said, amusing Puss with his confidence in his looks, and the fact that he didn't deny the stench or wickedness.
"Okay, but so what?" Puss asked, still not getting the point.
"It's simple." Jack said, grabbing a green apple from a stall abandoned by a citizen who was probably hiding now.
Wiping the apple on his shirt and taking a bite, he spoke.
"If I give him a name, and I look like a pirate, the man'll probably take the shilling and run off to report me. But if he accepts a bribe..."
He spoke with his cheek full of apple, tossing the bitten apple up in his hand and catching it, repeating the motion.
"If he accepts the bribe and gives you a name himself, then he's involved and keeps quiet, is that it? But what's stopping him from taking the bribe and then reporting anyway?" Puss asked, curious.
"People don't like bribing someone and then getting stabbed in the back right after. Besides, it's kind of an unspoken rule in most ports. Gaining a reputation as someone who breaks it? Not good for business. That just means fewer bribes and more risk to his life. Not worth it." Jack explained, then shrugged before finishing the apple in a few more bites and tossing the core carelessly behind him onto the street.
Puss found it interesting that such unspoken norms existed in this world, and couldn't help but grow more curious.
"Where are we staying?" Jack asked, looking around—but there were only locked houses, and knocking now probably wouldn't get them very far.
Puss also looked around, until his eyes landed on a certain statue nearby.
It was a rough statue of a blacksmith with an anvil in front of him. But the interesting part wasn't the statue itself, but the memory it stirred in Puss.
Looking up, he saw a wooden sign with the drawing of iron tongs, a hammer, and an anvil, with the words J. Brown underneath.
Smiling, Puss took a step forward, catching Jack's attention.
"Come with me."
Though confused, the man and the horse followed the hooded cat.
Pushing open the door, which remained unlocked despite the threat of pirates, Puss walked in as if he owned the place.
Inside the workshop was a large forge, several swords, and a donkey tied to a post. The animal was apparently used to turn some gears whose purpose Puss didn't fully understand—but they were definitely related to blacksmithing.
Thanks to his excellent vision and instincts, Puss also noticed a man sleeping like a passed-out pig in a corner, just outside his current line of sight.
"This doesn't look like an inn." Jack said as he stepped inside with a strange look, followed by Tornado's head peeking over his shoulder to examine the workshop.
The black horse curiously observed everything until he noticed the tied-up donkey nearby.
Intrigued, he stepped fully into the workshop—pushing Jack aside—and descended the stairs just inside the doorway.
"Hey! Didn't your mare of a mother teach you any manners?!" The pirate shouted, almost falling, clearly annoyed.
But the horse didn't care and approached the donkey, who showed little reaction, his head hanging low near the ground.
Tornado sniffed him but saw that the weird little horse had no response.
While Tornado found himself a gloomy new friend, Puss walked over to a wall and examined the swords.
"Good swords." He said, touching one of the blades and admiring it.
The craftsmanship wasn't inferior to that of his own Cheshire sword—in some ways, it was even better. That surprised Puss a lot.
Of course, they were still not as good as his, since Cheshire wasn't just any sword—it was an enchanted one.
'He's really talented. But it makes sense—even a mythical creature like Davy Jones appreciated the sword he forged and took it for himself,' Puss pondered, scratching his chin as an idea began forming in his mind.
Jack, rubbing his back after being shoved by the horse, also walked around the workshop but froze when he heard the sound of a bottle hitting the floor.
Approaching the source of the noise, he found a middle-aged man, dirty and reeking of alcohol, deeply asleep and slumped in a chair.
His limp hand and the rolling bottle were all Jack needed to understand what caused the noise.
His eyes fell on the liquor bottle, and he couldn't help licking his lips.
And at that very moment, the door to the forge swung open once more.
It was the young William Turner stepping inside, calm at first—until he froze, stunned by the scene that unfolded before him.
On one side, there was a black horse biting the donkey's collar, trying to set him free.
On the other side, a small hooded figure was hanging from a beam, trying to pull down a sword from a rack that was too tall for him.
And finally, there was a man whose appearance screamed "pirate", waving an empty bottle of liquor above his mouth, his tongue sticking out.
Blinking in disbelief, everyone froze and stared at each other.
Will closed the door, hoping it was just his imagination, then opened it again—only to see the exact same scene.
"Ahem!" Puss coughed into his paw and leapt down from the beam. "Mi amigo, it's not what it looks like." He explained helplessly.
"You're going to tell me you're not stealing the swords, the booze, and even the donkey from this workshop?" Will asked, his lip twitching.
"Sí." Puss nodded sincerely.
"Hmm…" Will nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly jumped the short steps at the door and ran to the nearest sword stand—just behind the donkey.
"Ugh..." Puss put a paw to his forehead and groaned, but helplessly reached for his own sword, getting ready.
Will quickly grabbed a sword from the rack, but as he turned around, two black hooves flew toward his chest before he could react—
"AHH!!" He screamed as he was launched backward, hit the floor, and rolled once before slamming into the workshop wall. The sword he had grabbed fell to the side.
Snort!
Tornado lowered his hind legs and snorted, satisfied.
Puss, who had begun to draw his sword, slid it back into the sheath, amused by the scene.
He walked over to the dazed Will, who struggled to get up while clutching his chest, only to fall back down again. Puss reached up and pushed back his hood.
"Mi amigo, no need to panic, we're not here to steal anything." Puss said, a smile creeping onto his face.
Will shook his head to fight off the dizziness, barely managing to stop the world from spinning before looking toward the approaching footsteps.
But when he looked up, he saw nothing—until an orange paw waved at the bottom of his vision.
"Hey, don't look up, I'm down here." Puss called out helplessly.
Will looked down and saw a small orange kitten with green eyes staring at him, curious.
"You're the fairy tale creature who saved Elizabeth!" he exclaimed in surprise.