"Yes", Mountbatten confirmed gladly before she sank into the contents of a digital folder. "We should be able to sign this first treaty in a solemn manner by the evening so that we can close that chapter formally before the celebratory banquet arranged for dinner -- of which you may or may not have been informed. But yes, Gallia is the main course from this moment." Mountbatten grinned at the thought. "And while Bretonia has a ravenous appetite, and I must admit I feel a little peckish too", she continued, "Mr Asquith here insists that we must withhold ourselves from some of our delights because Gallia can't realistically cover them." Neville Asquith was, to remind, the Whig representative. He raised an eyebrow at the direct reference to him. Mountbatten's tone didn't seem to lead to what they had rehearsed the day before. "But the fears Mr Asquith's party has over another violent confrontation with Gallia stem from the conception that we would be alone in it. Gallia is now too poor to pay all it owes us -- yet a poor nation cannot wage war for long either. I hereby ask: how far is each of your glorious states prepared to go to see what is rightfully yours fall in your hands?"
Mountbatten, not spared from the wild temper that had run through the Mountbattens for generations, let it out in a moment of emotional excitement. This was not prepared, this was pure in situ opportunism. Asquith was here to prevent exactly such deviations official government doctrine, but he was caught by surprise, and although he was visibly upset, he couldn't decide whether to revolt on the spot, or save Bretonia's face and rein in Mountbatten later in private. It may have not been the best idea to rely on the foreigners to gracefully reject the foreign secretary's jingoism, but it is what Asquith's non-confrontational personality shared by many successful politicians could settle on during the very little time it had to react.