Page 327 of Reaper Said Mine

Gnash sets the financial slate on the table.

I stare at it.

“No.”

He lifts one brow ridge.

“You have not opened it.”

“I know what that is.”

“It is an investment structure.”

“It is warlord tariff money wearing a nice coat.”

“Neutral territorial administration revenue.”

“Still no.”

Skahar lowers himself into a chair with a groan. “We discussed this, and I told him you would be difficult.”

“I am being ethical.”

“You are being difficult ethically. There is a distinction mostly visible to you.”

Gnash folds his arms. “Open Signal needs resources.”

“Open Signal has resources.”

“You have used two server rooms, three borrowed legal teams, one hostile accountant who only works after midnight, and a security operation funded by what Bellamy called ‘creative invoice violence.’”

I narrow my eyes. “Bellamy talks too much.”

“He does,” Skahar says. “I have urged spacing him, but your affection prevents efficiency.”

“You are not spacing my chief operations officer.”

“See? Inefficient.”

I pick up the slate but do not open it. “Gnash.”

His expression softens, though his voice remains firm. “I know why you resist.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. You built this to be independent. You will not have anyone claim your reporting belongs to me, Guyver, the Reapers, or any faction that benefits from your work.”

“Correct.”

“I am not asking to own it.”

“That is easy to say before money changes hands.”

He nods once, accepting the challenge rather than brushing it aside. “The investment is structured as a blind public-interest endowment under neutral trustees. Guyver contributes initial capital because this station directly benefits from transparent reporting, and because the Accord requires independent monitoring archives that your network is already better suited to maintain than any government body. I receive no editorial authority, no appointment power, no access to source files, no review rights, and no special treatment except that you will continue yelling at me when I deserve it.”

Skahar snorts. “A costly privilege.”

I open the slate.