Short of it is they're keeping us as slaves. [His tone's gone a bit more tense. Speaking about it here's been freeing in its own right, but that doesn't change the emotion behind it.]

I'm not going anywhere. [He's half out of his armor at the moment, using a scrap of cloth to clean off some of the accumulated gunk from the plates. Sitting beside him is a small collection of sticks scratched with tally marks, each labeled with alternating angled notches. He's been out making records of his own, using whatever he had to hand.]