Dia sat at the table, quiet, without uttering a single word throughout the entire conversation, maintaining a stoic expression as she had taught herself to do in tense situations.
Inside, though, she was boiling. If she hadn't been here in official capacity, she would not have stayed quiet. She would have told them. Those vile, filthy men speaking of her own compatriots in such a manner. Granted, Dorian compatriots, but compatriots nonetheless.
On one side, the Bretonians wanted to expel them, expel them from the planet and system they spent so much to protect and care for. Those Corsairs who, forgoing the life in space and desiring something more than the sandy dunes of Dorian homeland or even the beautiful valleys and golden fields of Attica risked everything to build a life elsewhere. She had learned of a man, back from the ancient Earth, who wanted to expel a people from his country. To think such knowledge was lost on the Bretonians, it only proved how utterly contemptible scum they were and how thinly-veiled their true intentions had been.
On the other, humans who may have as well been dogs. Communists, enslaving their own people on a frozen world, hidden to the rest of Sirius behind the mask of compassion. They revealed little, but knowing that they were evil was enough for her. It only confirmed Bretonian weakness she suspected earlier, as only a weak and drowning man would clutch at such straws.
She would have called upon all the rhetorical knowledge she got, from ancient books and from witnessing her father oratorical prowess in the past. She would rise, summon all her power, and speak, like an avatar of righteous virtue and fury, like Athena herself, she would let them feel the utter contempt she and her entire nation held for them, those people, those dogs who dared to talk about exterminating the Corsairs on Gran Canaria.
But, alas, she was here in official capacity. So, she only faintly smiled at her thoughts and continued to listen.