Klaus nodded. It wasn't the word he'd used for the majority of New York City being torn down, rearranged, and put back together while hundreds of thousands were killed. But it wasn't the last word he'd use either.

"Dalish," he repeated, dutifully committing the word to memory. Dalish meant facial tattoos. Possibly also pointy ears, though he was not about to make any personal assumptions about someone's physical traits. That would be impolite.

"Such situations, whatever the initial intentions, often lead to rampant abuse," Klaus agreed. "My world's own history is littered with such atrocities, though they never reached any magically inclined communities."

He paused, considering that wasn't entirely true.

"...Not for lack of trying at least. I imagine the situation is still precarious with only two years between now and the initial revolts...?"