Honestly, I much prefer it this way. There is an art to finding loopholes in things, and as you describe it is easier when you can read at leisure what was written in haste, but frankly I don’t see much leisure time in my future. No matter how hastily written the document, it’ll always be more constraining than a handshake; I love it when people let me imply that we have a deal when I’ve committed to no such thing, or when they avoid nailing down exactly what it is we’ve promised each other because it’d be socially awkward: it preserves option-value.
Hell is a fluid and unfounded hope its container; it expands to fill the space you give it.
New tack, from the top:
I would also like for us to avoid wasteful conflict which serves neither of us, and I’m hopeful that we can. I’ve been the Archbishop of Varisia for a quarter of a century. You spent five years as Field Marshall. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever offered an agent of the monarchy anything short of my total cooperation? Have I ever shortchanged you? Or instead have I gone as far as to return you your unseaworthy contracts marred not with a signature but rather red editor’s ink, so you could tighten the wording before I would in good conscience sign them?
I’m Lawful, you’re Lawful, you know me to be reputable, I know you to be reputable; what’s the point of all of this if we can’t preserve the domestic tranquility?