Garen drops into his chair hard enough that the pistons hiss in protest. Then a long, weighted exhale. His shoulders fall an inch. Whatever he's been carrying about this just grew heavier, not lighter, and the weight is showing.
"Tell me, boy. How do you know about something that hasn't even left my own head yet?"
"Before any answers… I want your guarantee that our partnership will be solid."
He looks at me. Doesn't blink. His eyes saying he wants a guarantee as well.
"Then confirm what we're talking about. What is Tide of Every Morning?"
"Easy…" I snap my fingers.
"It's an integrated logistics and the formation of a contingent fleet, structured like a private armada, designed to standardize and sequence the WaterStrand harvest. You'd subsidize the Scale costs and the surface transfer overhead. The plan also covers a qualitative distribution model… WaterStrands routed to districts based on need, not bid."
The cigar drops out of his mouth.
