"Damn you, answer me, you worthless hag!" Melvyn screamed, his hand flying towards her again.
Agatha's head snapped to the side as she fell to her knees, her other cheekbone exploding in pain. She knelt on the ground gasping in pain as Melvyn continued shouting above her, demanding to know what she was doing.
"I-I don't k-know what you're t-talking about," Agatha breathed in fear, her body tensed for another blow.
"My wife! She was not experiencing any of this until we neared your stall." Melvyn growled, advancing on her.
Gone was the soothing gentleman she saw before. Now, this man was wild, crazed, and obviously had no second thoughts of beating on an innocent woman.
"What is going on here?" Another voice demanded.
Agatha nearly sobbed with relief when she saw the gold and blue crest upon the armored man. A guard of Vildaheim would protect her and enforce the laws of neutrality in the marketplace. This horrid couple would no longer be allowed to abuse her both physically and verbally.
"My wife and I were walking this marketplace when this begging fraud began to harass us. She claims to have enchanted objects and would not desist in her desperate pleas for coin. I believe my wife may be in labor now from all of this beggar's nonsense! When I asked her for her help getting my wife home, she just stood there staring at us, as though she was trying to cast a spell on my poor wife," Melvyn explained to the guard, his words coming out in a frantic rush.
Agatha's eyes widened in disbelief. How quickly this man had gone from caring husband to an abuser of innocents to a victim of harassment. It did not escape her notice either that Melvyn did not admit to believing she was harming his wife with magic, lest he be laughed from the market. The guard turned to her, his eyes wrathful and cold.
"Is this true?" The guard asked harshly.
Agatha took a deep breath, already knowing the outcome of this situation. She blinked back tears of pain and frustration. Her face hurt; she could feel the swelling building beneath her skin, the tight, uncomfortable stretching of her cheeks. It was difficult for Agatha to pull herself together long enough to answer the guard, her lips trembling each time she tried to speak.
"Does it matter?" She eventually croaked out.
She knew in an instant that her assumption was correct. The guard's eyes became alight with wicked satisfaction as he bared his teeth at her.
"You will pack your things and be escorted from the kingdom immediately." The guard said in a booming voice.
"I did nothing wrong!" Agatha blurted and regretted the words as soon as they escaped.
It would do no good to argue with the guard or the couple. She knew this, yet she could not reel in the instinct to defend herself. If she were smarter, she would stop getting herself into these situations. Selling magical objects always draws attention, whether it be from believers or non-believers. Some days she would go home with a pouch full of coins. Other days she would go home bloody and bruised, chased away from yet another marketplace. Today would be the latter, she knew. She also knew by the lewd gleam in the guard's eyes that she wanted any other guard to escort her from the kingdom.
"Nothing wrong?" The guard shouted incredulously. "You are begging for coin in exchange for magic that no longer exists."
The gathering crowd laughed and jeered at her kneeling form.
"A witch? A desperate scheme to swindle innocents!" An onlooker shouted.
"You should get on your talking dragon and fly on out of here, crazy old hag," Another shouted.
The shouts and whooping laughter continued to come from every direction.
"You will not cry," Agatha whispered to herself, balling up her fists and pushing herself up off the ground.
A loud shattering had the crowd laughing uproariously, and Agatha cringed.
"Oops!" Someone giggled.
"Hey, witch! I will barter with you," Someone hollered from behind her, where she was bent over picking up her pack.
Agatha started shoving her more precious belongings haphazardly inside, paying no mind to those who were still mocking and laughing at her. The hollering man repeated his shout, his request to barter sounding like a trick, but one that Agatha needed to risk. She needed the coin, and as a few of the marketgoers had described her, she was desperate.
"You truly wish to barter?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder, seeking the one who spoke.
"I do," A deep voice said, stepping forward through the crowd.
He was a tall, thin man, with a haughty tilt to his chin that emphasized his pointed nose and sunken eyes. His skin was so pale that bluish veins could be seen along the length of his neck, though the skin beneath his eyes was a dark purple, almost as if he had been abused in the same way as she. The man was partially bald, only having hair on the sides of his head that was trimmed close to his scalp. The suit he wore was a dark blue, tailored to perfection, and Agatha briefly admired his muscular arms as he took off his coat, leaving him in a clean white button-down shirt that he rolled up on his forearms.
"And what is it you wish to barter with?" Agatha asked, looking him squarely in the eye.
The man gave her a charming smile, little crinkles forming around his brown eyes, which were alight with excitement. Agatha found herself relaxing the tiniest bit at his disarming charm, the corner of her mouth twitching into a reluctant smile.
"Your life, of course," The man replied, his smile widening.
The breath whooshed from Agatha's lungs, her heart thrumming a violent beat against her chest as she recognized the bloodthirsty look upon the faces in the crowd. Her magic would not help her here; if she used it against this kingdom's people, she risked the king of Vildaheim declaring war on her small kingdom, which would not survive another assault like the one in Meyorn. Her mind raced frantically, desperation clogging her throat. All she wanted was to get back home safely, to the children who depended on her, but that was looking more like a childish dream by the second.
"Don't offer her mercy, Mitchell," Hazel groaned loudly. "Look at what she did to me!"
The crowd gasped as their attention went to Hazel, whose legs were dripping with pink fluid. They swung accusing, condemning eyes to Agatha, who wanted to shout at their idiocy. The damn woman was in labor; of course, there would be blood! What in the goddess's name did they think was going to come out? Certainly, it wouldn't be unicorns or kittens!
"You have a twenty-second start before I let loose the hounds, witch," The contempt clear in Mitchell’s voice as he spat out the last word.
Agatha clenched her jaw, she wanted to throttle every last person in the crowd, but she would have to run for the safety of the forest instead. She snatched wildly at her belongings and shoved a few handfuls of vials into her pack. Before she could stand up, the stall was flipped over, knocking her to the ground as it crashed into her side. Jars smashed to the ground, their luminescent liquids soaking into the dry dirt. Candles cracked and chipped as they thudded against the ground, crystals shattered, and Agatha's heart broke at the sight.
She knew she didn't have long before the crowd grew murderous; they were warming themselves up for a night of tormenting her.
"You deserve this," Hazel growled from above her.
Agatha watched, paralyzed with terror as Hazel grabbed a bottle of lamp oil and matches from a young boy, who couldn't have been older than ten, and began dumping the liquid over the market stall. As the oil splashed Agatha in the face, arms, and stomach, she realized that Hazel truly was about to set her on fire. Agatha kicked with all her might, wiggling her body from beneath the stall, her fingernails digging into the dirt. Mud coated her cloak from the spilled potions, glass cut into her hands and side, but at last, she wiggled free. She gasped loudly as she got to her knees, shards of glass cutting through her pants and into her skin. She pulled herself to her feet and ran without a backward glance. The crowd's laughter rang through the air, louder and more boisterous than before.