That was all he wanted to hear. It's still not information easily dispensed, but from one Tevene to another is different than from a former prisoner to his former captors. Hesitantly, Benedict takes a step back and seats himself once more.

It takes him a moment to come out with it, sitting with his eyes closed and brow furrowed, an expression of deep dismay on his face. "...the brand," he says, practically choking the words out, "...is... of my own house. It's for..." He rubs his temple, looking at the floor.
"...it's for slaves who are on their last chance. Who aren't allowed to leave the estate anymore, and if they're found outside it are to be killed or returned for that purpose." Very slowly, he looks up at Hanzo. Though a smug and incorrigible little bastard at the best of times, Benedict looks very serious now, sick with dread and fear of his own.
"They're. ...technically mine, on Tevinter soil."