“Tribune, sir, it looks like this road ahead is under maintenance, so we may need to swing around toward the west gate. Is that all right?”
“Because of the Festival preparations? My friend, there’s no need to ask about every little thing. We’re not in a rush.”
The roofless car simply turned and took the detour. Tribune Saruk, seated in the passenger seat, propped his chin. His worries ran deep.
‘The High Priest and the Senate are more wary than the comrades anticipated. What am I to do…’
It had already been months since he was elected Tribune.
Originally, a Tribune was a representative of the commoners, elected by the Council to speak for the citizens’ voice.
But now, most of the citizens who elected him pointed fingers and called him a traitor.
He had thrown away shame and everything else to get his foot on the very edge of the nobles’ inner circle, and he’d finally managed it—but…