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	With the fiscal day coming to a close, the festive evening had picked up. Traffic into and out of the Township became more fluid; more of a two-way give and take between the good times within the walls and the campsites outside of them. There is an increased number of guards at each gate - four instead of the usual two - but what most people inside the walls will see is a reduced guard presence. Not that anyone seems to care as the majority of people have a jovial attitude all around. The locals, however, can be spotted by their somewhat darkened expression, like they all have the same secret worry despite the celebratory actions in which they engage. 

	The Public House of Neil and Bob is brimming with activity. Their one remaining [url=https://i.ibb.co/xH8vbT7/Barmaid-at-N-B.jpg]barmaid[/url] is definitely earning her tips this evening. There are far too many customers for her to keep up with everyone, and so she sticks to just the round tables in the center of the main room. The scene at the bar is busy, coming and going in waves as the bulk of the patrons come up to get their glasses and tankards refilled. A large slate sign behind the bar bears thick, chalk marks, proclaiming not just a reduction in menu variety due to being understaffed, but also a reduction in price for the festival. If one is hungry, the only thing available is mutton stew with in-season vegetables and dark, grainy bread. Drinks seem to be limited to beers, wines (two house wines, a red and a white, plus the [i]Rose River Fortified Zinnoberrot[/i], sold at a markup), and a tiny few selections of whiskies which aren't getting much exposure. There is a simple but amply sized stage tucked in the right-hand corner of the main room, just as one enters the establishment; at the moment it stays unused, except as a place for two or three people to sit upon its edge and sip ale. Suffice it to say, this is more of a local watering hole than an upper class establishment. 

	[url=https://i.ibb.co/WVkr1vc/Bob.jpg]Bob[/url] himself seems happy enough, even if none of the joy reaches his eyes. He doesn't much bother keeping a tally of his income as the people pay for their drinks, just giving it enough attention to see that enough has been forked over before sweeping it either behind the bar or temporarily into an apron pocket. 

	When he comes around to Kathryn, bob scoffed once and fetched a decent sized pitcher from behind the bar. He moved over to a large barrel and cranked the tap, allowing a foamy, reddish lager to pour into the sizeable container. He is a professional, making sure that every bit of two silvers get into the pitcher before shutting off the spigot. It hovered in his grasp over the bar until Kathryn's money hit wood and the hand pulled away. [color=darkgray]"Yeah, I remember you. You can have your drinking contest; makes no nevermind to me who pays, long as someone does. But if you think some outsider's going to corner me into an interrogation because of beer I would've sold anyway, well... I'm not as stupid as you think I am."[/color] He seemed very sure of himself. 
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	The procession going to the graveyard consisted of Cecily L'Rose, Lizbeth, Victoria, [color=black]Morty[/color] (bearing the pull-cart of canvas wrapped bones), and now Hugh bringing up the rear. Getting onto the main road leading north to the town's center was an easy enough task - Cecily waited for a gap, grabbed her niece's hand, and strode assertively into the masses. Following was also simple. It was almost impossible not to as people gathered along the side of the road, went the opposite direction on the other side, and pressed onward behind them.        

        This forward progression was slow but steady as the crowd seemed to move at a more casual pace. An individual might traverse this more quickly, weaving about and muttering the occasional "excuse me" but a group attempting to stay together was at a disadvantage for more hurried motion. It was especially dense around the more arboreal area near the city center. Movement slowed to an ambling walk the closer one got to the expanding field of centrally placed cobblestones, prompting serious consideration on finding an alternative route to the east gate. 

        Up ahead of the press of festival goers, in the center proper, the sounds of dance and merriment could be heard. Whether it was a show being put on, an event of some kind, or merely the same type of celebration as the last time the group passed through (albeit more active due to the hour) remained to be seen.