"Gentlemen, gather 'round!" August's voice cut through the market's noise.
"Are you tired of feeling like a worn-out shovel at the end of the day? Do you wish you had the energy of a bull, the power of a raging river?"
A small group of laborers, their shoulders slumped from the morning's work, paused to listen. They looked skeptical, but August's energy was hard to ignore.
He held up a small, dark bottle filled with a thick, red liquid. "This, my friends, is Stallion's Vigor! Brewed from a secret family recipe, passed down through generations of men who knew how to... plow their fields until the sun came up." He gave them a suggestive wink.
A few men chuckled. August scanned his small audience, judging their interest. Then he saw her.
Standing near a stall selling expensive spices, a noblewoman watched him, one eyebrow slightly raised in bored amusement. Her silk dress was worth more than his entire stand.
August's grin widened. Small fish were fine for a warm up, but he was here to land a whale.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, turning his full attention to the lady. He moved from behind his stand, bottle in hand, and stopped a respectful distance away with a slight bow.
"My lady. Forgive my crude demonstration. My product is powerful, but my words are often for a simpler audience."
She raised her other eyebrow. "And you think I am a customer for such... snake oil?"
"I think you are a woman of taste," August countered smoothly. "You appreciate quality. Your husband, a man of his high station, no doubt possesses great... potential. Stallion's Vigor does not create power from nothing. It unlocks the strength that is already there. It turns a strong man into a legend."
He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Imagine his surprise, my lady. Imagine your... delight."
A faint blush crept up her neck. Her gaze, once dismissive, now held a flicker of interest. The hook was set. She toyed with the coin purse at her belt. August could practically hear the silver clinking.
"Hey! You swindler!"
The shout shattered the moment. A big, barrel-chested man stomped toward them, his face the color of an overripe tomato. He waved an empty bottle furiously. "This stuff is a sham! My wife said it tastes of nothing but ginger and cheap wine!"
August didn't flinch. He turned to the man with a look of deep concern. "Ah, an unsatisfied customer! A rare thing. Sir, Stallion's Vigor works with the fire you already possess. It is a key, not a flame. It cannot start a bonfire with a wet log."
A few onlookers laughed. The man's face got even redder. "Are you calling me a wet log?"
"He's a cheat!" another man yelled, pushing forward. "I drank it and all it did was give me terrible gas!"
"I tested it on my goat!" a third man shouted, shaking his fist. "The poor thing has been hiding in its shed for two days!"
The noblewoman's face went from intrigued to horrified. The blush on her cheeks was now a fire of humiliation. People were staring.
"Guards!" she shrieked, her voice high and piercing. She pointed a trembling finger at August. "Arrest this charlatan! He sells filth and lies! He tried to swindle me!"
That was his exit cue.
With a speed that surprised everyone, August spun around, snatched the small but heavy pouch of coins from his stand, and vaulted over the wooden table. Bottles crashed to the dusty ground, releasing the potent smell of ginger and wine.
"A shame, my lady!" he called back with a final, cheeky grin. "We could have made beautiful... commerce... together!"
He hit the ground running, dodging the clumsy grabs of the angry men. A guard lunged for him, but August sidestepped and used a cart of cabbages as a temporary shield. The shouts and curses followed him as he weaved through the thickest part of the crowd.
Near the edge of the square, he saw it: a cloaked figure waving him into a dark, narrow alley.
His signal.
*********************************************************
August dove into the alley, the chaotic sounds of the market instantly muffled. He pressed his back against the cool, damp stone, his heart hammering in his chest from the run. A wide grin split his face. The adrenaline was a potion all its own, better than anything he sold.
He took a few deep breaths, the alley's smell of garbage and damp earth filling his lungs. "Perfect timing," he said to the small, cloaked figure huddled in the shadows. "Couldn't have done it without my lookout. They took the bait, hook, line, and sinker."
A light, musical laugh echoed in the narrow space. "You looked like a panicked chicken, August."
The figure pulled back the ragged hood. Tangled, fiery red hair fell around a dirt-smudged face. Her emerald green eyes shone with mischief and life, a stark contrast to her worn-out clothes and the grim alleyway. It was Anna.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, her cheerful voice filled with genuine concern as her eyes scanned him for injuries.
August scoffed, puffed up with pride. "Hurt? Anna, I am victorious!" He stepped forward and, in one fluid motion, wrapped his arms around her thin waist.
He easily lifted her from the ground, her light weight familiar in his arms. He spun them both around in a triumphant circle. "We did it! We really, really did it!"
"Ahh! August!" she squealed, a mix of laughter and protest. "Put me down! You're making me dizzy!" She clung to his shoulders, her own laughter mixing with his.
He slowed to a stop and gently set her back on her feet. He took advantage of his position and felt up Anna's ass. It was soft, small and firm.
She wobbled for a second, a hand on her head not registering what happened.
"Ah! Before I forget," he reached into the leather pouch he'd rescued from his stand. "For my lovely, and absolutely essential, business partner," he declared with a flourish. He began counting out silver coins into her dirty, waiting palm. One, two, ten, twenty... He stopped at fifty.
Anna stared at the pile of silver. Her green eyes went wide, the laughter gone, replaced by stunned disbelief. He could see the calculations in her eyes. It was enough to eat well for weeks, maybe even buy new shoes to replace the torn ones she wore. The coins seemed to weigh her small hand down.
Her gaze lifted from the money to his face, her expression softening into pure gratitude. Words seemed to fail her.
Instead, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him with surprising strength.
She pressed herself against him, and August felt the soft firmness of her breasts against his chest. He got an erection and was poking the poor girl's stomach.
She didn't say anything and continued to hug him for a few seconds longer. After her release she glanced nervously toward the alley entrance, knowing it wasn't safe to linger with that much coin.
A brilliant smile lit up her entire face. "Thank you, August! Pleasure doing business with you!"
She turned to run, then paused at the mouth of the alley. "See you next week!" she called back over her shoulder.
"Same place!" And then she was gone.
The alley felt suddenly quiet and empty. August shook his head slightly, clearing the strange feeling from his chest. He looked down at his own pouch, untying the leather strap. He poured the remaining coins into his hand, counting them carefully. One hundred and twenty silver.
A fantastic haul.
His mind immediately went to the list. The new iron plowshare his father desperately needed. A sack of quality grain. And then, a grin spread across his face. There would be enough left over for the book he'd been staring at through the shop window.
'An Introduction to Basic Sword Skills'.
This was a very, very good day.