“We don’t,” said Jarrod.
“You should go be king,” pronounced Aever, as if that would solve everything.
“We don’t have kings anymore,” said Jarrod. “We kind of . . . outgrew them, you could say.”
“Dangerous words,” warned Aever.
Carj threw more wood on the flames. Blankets hung on tripods around the fire, steaming into the makeshift roof. Thron snugged down a line as the wind bit at them.
“Our needs are different than yours,” said Jarrod. “Basically, we have a group who want to lead our country. They spend their lives studying policy and economics and warfare. And then, we vote for them every four years. Whoever gets the most votes becomes our supreme leader.”
“How do you know who to vote for?” asked Carj. “Are these people you know? I wouldn’t want someone I didn’t know to lead me.”
