The noticeboard of course!

Ignoring your unpleasant dealings with the guards, you step forward into the town. Despite the taste of two different male's semen in your mouth, you firmly resolve to not let those two taint your perception of the people living here. Surely they can't be as slimy and prejudiced as those two. There are men, women and children here worth saving and helping, you tell yourself. Do not tar people with the same brush, the Matron used to say. Nodding to yourself, content and ready to continue your holy mission, you make your way excitedly to the board.

Your eyes quickly scan across it. Most are useless to you. Some people here clearly can't read, so some are crudely drawn pictures of someone pushing a wheelbarrow or shoveling a black substance. Others are simple notices. "The summer solstice nears, ready your sacrifices, good people. Signed Father Martyn." Is written in a flowing and neat hand. Perhaps the local priest? Others are not so neat and polite.
"Whoever has been stealing milk from my cows, your days are numbered. If I catch you in my farm again I'll have your guts for garters. Signed Farmer Dolbi." You are surprised the farmer can write, yet his hand is crude and untidy. You skim over other notices, telling people of births, deaths and various happenings. Until you finally come across the something that makes your eyes light up with joy and interest...