We were traveling now through the Blood Drenched Hills, and coming to the market town of Spleen. Naturally, I wanted to get moving as quickly as possible, but my entourage had already decided we would spend a day or two here, peddling and enjoying their Mid Spring Festival. It did not feel like mid spring, the wind was still bitingly cold, the roads wet and muddy from snow melt, but the early planting had concluded so it was time for a party. The town was nestled between a few hills, so the first sign of it was two plumes of smoke from the signal fires outside. As we rounded a curve in the road, the palisades of the town became visible. A token force of guards were posted outside, clearly Kralorelan, and clearly disappointed with their post. Merchants coming to the festival were being charged an entry fee, or were required to prove customary right of entrance to a small, tired looking administrator. He was sitting at one of the collapsible desks that mantrins deployed to the countrysi