A sentence can be described in different ways.
The civilized would say "those who understand the times are outstanding", the rude would say "believe it or not, I will beat you", and the straightforward would say "good boy, candy for you. Naughty, a smack on the face."
Roland tried to phrase it as delicately as possible, but to Diana, the message itself was highly blasphemous.
"Enough."
Diana was staring directly at Roland, her face growing cold.
"You mean to say your company holds the trend of the times?"
"I cannot assert that, I only speak of what I know, the judgment and choice are up to you."
"That's a sophism to evade responsibility."
"Miss Diana, please listen to me—"
Suppressing the urge to nod in agreement with her, and his own disgust at the role he was playing, Roland lowered his eyes.
"In order to push the naval arms control agreement and persuade the recalcitrant nations, Her Highness the Saintess is about to head to Lutèce."
