Strabo Pompey was confident—!
This confidence didn't come from others, nor from his family, it was forged through his own achievements on the battlefield.
As a proven warrior and man of action, Strabo Pompey had earned his reputation through victories.
Although Rome had recently suffered several defeats, and military morale was low, his past accomplishments still stood strong.
While he might not be the best, he was certainly better than many others.
"Tiberius… the role of tribune is mine. You better hope I don't win by too wide a margin and humiliate you too much," Strabo muttered to himself in the crowded square, his face filled with a confident smile.
From arriving early to ensure he was the first to speak, to secretly bribing commoners for votes, Strabo had prepared thoroughly.
He had investigated the Gracchus family and found that they hadn't even spent money to secure votes for Tiberius—a foolish oversight, in his view.
A little investment early on would smooth the way for future success.
And these fools, from a family that had produced consuls, didn't even grasp that basic political reality.
"Idiots…" he sneered, not seeing Tiberius as a true rival.
If it were Lista Night Magnus, however, Strabo might have felt more cautious.
After all, Night was the main figure behind the recent heroics in Rome, his reputation bolstered by the legendary tale of 39 men crossing the Ebro River—a story that had already taken on the status of a myth.
Given Night's current popularity in Rome, it was entirely possible that the people might support him as tribune if he were running.
Fortunately, the Senate had quashed any such movement early on.
Just then, a commotion arose outside the square.
It was Lista Night and Tiberius Gracchus, escorted by a group of guards.
The crowd erupted in excitement, frantically chanting "Rome's Last Hero" as their eyes lit up in admiration for Night.
It seemed as if the true protagonist of the day wasn't Strabo or Tiberius, but Night himself!
Had it not been for the guards holding the crowd back, they might have rushed forward to get closer to their idol.
The women, especially, seemed ready to throw themselves at Night, their unabashedly admiring glances showing just how much they adored him.
The man's physical strength and striking good looks only added to his legendary status.
Of course, not all admirers were women, and Night had no desire to fend off any overly enthusiastic men either.
Thanks to the guards, the crowd was kept at bay, avoiding any awkward or uncomfortable encounters.
Meanwhile, Strabo Pompey's expression darkened as he observed the crowd's enthusiasm for Night, his brows furrowing.
'Lista Night… it seems I've underestimated this man.'
Considering Night's current popularity in Rome, if he ever chose to run for office, he could become a formidable opponent.
But then again, perhaps he was overthinking it.
He suddenly recalled hearing about Night's controversial suggestion at the recent Senate meeting—the proposal to let the People's Assembly elect the tribunes, a political taboo.
Heh—what a foolish move.
That idiot has already destroyed his own political future.
Even if he somehow wins a tribune election, he'll never receive support from the Senate.
In Strabo's eyes, no Roman could succeed in politics without the backing of the Senate.
By going against them, Night had closed off his path.
With the sun shining brightly overhead and the crowd now gathered, Strabo knew it was time to take the stage.
But before doing so, he made a point to approach Tiberius and Night.
The crowd quieted as they witnessed the interaction between the day's key figures.
"Good to see you, Tiberius…
Last year, you were just getting started in Roman politics.
I never imagined you'd be standing here, running for the position of tribune alongside me so soon."
Strabo spoke with an air of calm and elegance, his smile beaming with what seemed like warmth.
But behind his words was the unmistakable tone of a victor already preparing to claim the prize.
His posture, his smile—it all suggested that he had already won.
Though his words were courteous, his arrogant gaze revealed his true feelings.
Tiberius, of course, could sense Strabo's displeasure at having him as a rival.
But his fight wasn't just with Strabo or one noble family—his struggle was much bigger.
He didn't take Strabo's provocation seriously.
Tiberius knew that once he began speaking and laid out his vision for the future of Rome, the crowd would be enthralled.
No matter what speech Strabo had prepared, it would ultimately fall flat.
Like Strabo, Tiberius also carried confidence—but his was born from the power of the policies he and his brother, along with their trusted friend Night, had developed.
Together, the three of them had fine-tuned their plans late into the night.
With their combined strength, no one could stand in their way!
Tiberius responded calmly, "I didn't expect to be competing with you so soon either."
"After all, I'm still quite young. I lack experience and training compared to you.
However, I have an unshakable reason to become tribune.
I hope that Victory will smile on me, just a little."
After speaking, he flashed a faint smile, a composed and collected look that immediately irked Strabo.
Strabo had expected Tiberius to crumble under the pressure he was applying, but instead, there was no sign of the fear or hesitation he had anticipated.
"You think you've already won, don't you, Tiberius?
What was that?
A victory speech before the results are even in? Such arrogance!" Strabo, full of pride, was still young at heart.
He hadn't yet gained the 40 years of experience that would eventually make him a seasoned veteran of Roman politics, and now he found it hard to keep his composure.
Especially now, standing before the masses of citizens, including Rome's young women, he couldn't afford to lose face in front of his opponent.
Tiberius replied calmly to his words,
"That wasn't my intention…"
However,
Strabo cut him off:
"But it seems to me that's exactly what you meant. You'll regret this, Tiberius.
I won't allow you to underestimate me.
After today, I will become the nightmare that haunts you forever.
Victory will not smile on you—because there can only be one victor, and that is me—Strabo!"
...
The inherent boldness and flair for performance in Romans meant that humility was a foreign concept to many of them.
At this moment, Strabo's confident words, spoken loudly, perhaps intentionally for the crowd to hear, had the desired effect.
Immediately, the onlookers were drawn to this man's audacity, and many were impressed by his boldness.
In Rome, where the strong and dominant were admired, his assertiveness and arrogance resonated with the crowd.
Additionally, the commoners that Strabo had secretly paid off began to chant his name, their voices rising above the noise of the square.
Suddenly—
"Strabo Pompey!!"
"Strabo Pompey!!!" The crowd, swept up by the moment, joined in, shouting and cheering for him.
For a moment, Strabo basked in the glory, his face glowing with pride as he enjoyed the adoration of the masses.
But then—
He noticed something that immediately pierced through his confident exterior.
It was Night, standing beside Tiberius, looking at him with a gaze that carried a hint of… pity.
That look stung Strabo's proud heart deeply.
——!!!