When you tread the streets of Malfeas, each paving stone is his body, and in his mercy, he does not break your feet. When you pass a brothel in Malfeas, you pass his holy flesh; marvel that he tolerates your thoughtlessness, and permits the noisy and fleshy revels within him.

Look up! The sky is the sky of Malfeas, and in it hangs his heart, reminding all who pray and live and fear by its green light that they are within Malfeas. The wise then fall to their knees and kiss the stones where the blood-apes lope and the metody slither, for they are Malfeas.

But Malfeas cares not for wisdom, only obeisance. It happens at times that one demon falls to its knees and kisses the streets that are Malfeas, and its fellows do not pay heed. They continue to walk past the stones that are Malfeas and the doors and windows that are Malfeas and the statues and lamps that are Malfeas. And then, noticing this affront, Malfeas grows wroth, and the streets become littered with teeth and ichor, and all demons who saw the wise one and did not follow suit are made to kneel. In this manner they are reminded that Malfeas is Malfeas, and their King permits them to walk upon him.