[There's a pause, quiet and contemplative. Then, his voice methodically steady:]

We did not fill out forms. But we did volunteer. Man and woman both, so eager for the boon our master promised us that we assured ourselves that whatever it was he had planned, surely it would not be so bad. Surely it would not be worse than what we already suffered in our day to day lives as his slaves. And so we submitted ourselves to his machinations, and not four weeks later, my family had been torn from me and lines had been methodically scored into my skin, seared to seal the wounds before lyrium was grafted in layer after layer, and all so a magister who did not once ever dream he was an evil man could further the field of blood magic and win glory for himself.

No, I am not reassured. Not while you all speak so glibly, so arrogantly, and act as though I have no basis for my fears. But I suspect you will do what you wish anyway, and so will I.

[And he has a point, yes, but it's also a neat illustration for why his point of view is not the most objective when it comes to this.]