Something quietly significant happened over the last eighteen months: individual U.S. states stopped talking about digital assets in the abstract and started making concrete, statutory decisions about which networks they would actually build on. These aren’t white papers or working groups. They are appropriations, procurement scores, and signed legislation — governments putting their names, and in some cases their reserves, behind specific blockchains.
For a principal-only treasury, this is exactly the kind of signal worth reading closely. Not because a state’s endorsement makes an asset a good hold — governments are not infallible allocators — but because when a public entity subjects a network to a formal procurement process and a public-records vote, it produces the rarest thing in this industry: a decision made under accountability, on the record.
Wyoming chose a purpose-built settlement network
Wyoming issued the first stablecoin ever launched by a U.S. public entity. The Frontier Stable Token — FRNT, formerly WYST — went live on August 20, 2025, at the Wyoming Blockchain Symposium, governed by the Wyoming Stable Token Commission under the state’s 2023 Stable Token Act and chaired by the Governor himself. It is fully backed by cash and short-term U.S. Treasuries, held to a statutory 102% reserve, with the interest earned on those reserves flowing to the state’s school foundation fund.
What matters for our thesis is how Wyoming got there. The Commission ran a months-long, publicly scored procurement process, evaluating candidate networks on finality, transaction cost, smart-contract capability, and demonstrable throughput. Out of that process, Stellar — the settlement network behind XLM — emerged as one of the selected candidate chains, alongside a set of other high-performance networks. The token launched across a unified contract deployed on seven of them.
This is the part we sit with. When a state government scored blockchains on the exact properties a treasury cares about — speed, cost, finality, reliability — a near-zero-energy settlement network built for payments made the cut. That is not a marketing claim from the network’s foundation. It is the outcome of a government procurement scored in public.
Arizona named the bridge asset in statute
Further west, Arizona took a different but equally telling step. Its digital assets strategic reserve legislation advanced through the state Senate naming a specific, short list of eligible assets — and XRP was on it, alongside Bitcoin, stablecoins, and one other network.
We are careful here: a bill advancing through committee is not a bill signed into law, and inclusion on an eligibility list is not an endorsement of price. But the significance is in the company XRP now keeps. A U.S. state legislature, drafting the universe of assets it would permit its own reserve to hold, wrote the name of the settlement asset at the center of our own balance sheet into the text. Eighteen months ago, that would have been unthinkable. The Overton window on which networks are “reserve-appropriate” has moved, and it has moved toward the assets we hold.
HBAR is already carrying government weight — just not here
The third network on our balance sheet worth watching in this context is Hedera, and its government footprint is the most mature of the three — though it is abroad, not domestic. Dubai’s DIFC Courts run a digital-asset inheritance solution on Hedera, later expanded by decree to cover notarization and mediation. Qatar’s national digital receipt system runs on Hedera’s permissioned setup. Saudi Arabia’s Ministry of Investment co-funded a venture studio built around it. And in the UK, Lloyds Banking Group and Aberdeen executed that market’s first FX trades using tokenized collateral settled on the Hedera network.
Domestically, the signal is regulatory rather than operational: in March 2026, U.S. regulators classified HBAR as a digital commodity — resolving, for that asset, the single most persistent question hanging over institutional participation.
And then there is Missouri
Here the story turns, and it deserves to be told with care rather than triumph. Missouri is pursuing a state digital-asset reserve too — House Bill 2080, referred to the House Commerce Committee in early 2026 after an earlier attempt stalled in 2025. But where Wyoming scored networks on settlement performance and Arizona named a basket, Missouri’s bill is built around a single asset: Bitcoin. The framework designates the state treasurer as sole custodian, mandates a five-year holding period, and requires cold storage and biennial public reporting.
We want to be clear about how we hold this. We do not think Missouri’s lawmakers are foolish, and we take no satisfaction in disagreeing with them. The instinct behind the bill — that a state should hold a hard, non-sovereign reserve asset as a hedge against monetary debasement — is an instinct we share. It is, in fact, close to the founding logic of our own treasury. The disagreement is not about whether to hold digital assets. It is about which ones can carry the specific weight of public funds.
And that distinction is where our concern, offered in good faith, becomes hard to set aside. Public reserves are the least forgiving capital there is. They are held for the long horizon, they cannot easily be moved or unwound, and they belong to people who never opted into the risk. Those are exactly the conditions under which the three structural liabilities we have documented elsewhere — Bitcoin’s exposed-key quantum surface, its multi-year governance-upgrade cycle, and its energy-security profile — compound most severely. A five-year mandatory hold, which the bill imposes as a discipline, is also five years during which the asset cannot be migrated if the cryptographic ground shifts beneath it. The very guardrail meant to protect the reserve is the guardrail that would trap it.
The properties that make Bitcoin a compelling story for an individual with a small, movable position are not the properties public reserves need. A state treasury needs settlement it can rely on, cryptographic agility it can exercise on a survivable timeline, and an energy profile it can defend to its own citizens. Those are the qualities Wyoming scored for and found in a purpose-built network. They are the qualities Arizona’s list gestures toward. And they are, not coincidentally, the qualities our own balance sheet is built on.
What the whole picture says
Read together, these four states sketch a map of where public money is willing to stand. Wyoming ran the numbers and stood on a near-zero-energy settlement network. Arizona wrote the bridge asset into its reserve statute. Hedera is already carrying sovereign recordkeeping across the Gulf and has shed its regulatory ambiguity at home. And Missouri — reaching for the same goal of a hard reserve — chose the one asset whose structural liabilities we believe public funds can least afford to inherit.
We hold no Bitcoin, and we hold the networks these states are increasingly choosing when they score for the properties that actually matter. We did not arrive at that position by watching the states. But it is quietly affirming to watch the states, under the discipline of public accountability, arrive so close to it on their own.
This piece reflects the internal research and market view of Stellae Liquiditas LLC, a principal-only corporate digital asset treasury. It is a thematic and analytical perspective on public-sector digital asset adoption, not investment, legal, or financial advice, and not a forecast of any asset’s price. Legislative status described here is current as of mid-2026 and subject to change as bills advance or fail.