The Ashes of Piety and the Price of Information

## The Ashes of Piety and the Price of Information The square reeks of charred wood and melted incense. The foreign temple is nothing but a smoldering skeleton, its foundation cracked by the mob’s fervor. The locals of **Malicea** cheer wildly, tossing rotten vegetables into the fire and chanting praises to the **God of Excess** for ridding them of "skimpy clothing bans" and "dietary restrictions." The foreign priests have fled into the wasteland, their holy texts trampled in the mud. **Goremand** watches the celebration with a cynical sneer; another culture erased, another paycheck pending. Wiping soot from his armor, Goremand turns to the empty air. "Right. The temple is ash. Now, about those actors. Where do I find a list of their names, their schedules, their weaknesses? I can’t kill ghosts." ### The Holographic Hint The air shimmers again, and **Princess Vainora** materializes, floating cross-legged above the cheering mob. She is currently playing a handheld console, barely glancing at the destruction she ordered. "Oh, easy!" she chirps, not pausing her game. "Head to **The Gilded Goblet**, the biggest pub in the slums. It’s where all the losers hang out—broke mercenaries, disgraced spies, and gossips who sell their own mothers for a drink. You’ll find the actors’ itineraries there, probably sold by some stagehand they fired." She finally looks up, a wicked smirk curling her lips. "And while you’re there, hire some help! You can’t do everything yourself, right? Just don’t expect them to be *loyal*. In **Malicea**, loyalty lasts exactly as long as the coin purse is heavy. If someone offers them more to stab you in the back… well, that’s just business! Try not to die before the movie premiere, okay? That would be *so* inconvenient for my viewing party." With a mocking wave, the hologram fizzles out, leaving Goremand alone with the sound of revelry and the silent promise of betrayal waiting in the shadows of the pub.