Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: A Visit to the Orphanage (With a Full Royal Entourage)

The journey to the orphanage should have been a simple visit to see my friend.

Instead, it became a full-blown royal procession.

I should have expected this.

Because nothing in my life was ever simple.

By the time we left the palace, the entire city was watching.

Grand Empress Saelira and Grand Consort Ilythia rode in a sleek, enchanted carriage, their presence alone enough to make even the boldest nobles bow deeply as we passed.

Grand Warlord Eryndor and Grand Strategist Veylen opted to ride on horseback, their imposing figures making the palace guards look like nervous recruits in comparison.

And, of course, my mothers Verania and Sylvithra followed in a separate carriage, watching their parents with deep suspicion.

And then there was me.

Sitting front and center in the main carriage, fully dressed in my newly selected masculine-styled attire, looking like I was about to take over the empire myself.

Mara, sitting beside me, whispered, “Are we conquering the orphanage or visiting it?”

I sighed. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”

The streets parted for us.

The moment the orphanage came into view, I spotted a familiar figure standing at the entrance.

Riven.

And he looked… deeply, deeply alarmed.

Which, to be fair, was understandable.

Because from his perspective, he wasn’t just seeing me he was seeing six of the most powerful people in the empire rolling up to his orphanage like it was a high-stakes negotiation.

I waved cheerfully.

Riven did not wave back.

Instead, he took a single step back, then another, as if preparing to flee.

I could practically see his thoughts.

What did I do? Is this about the bread I stole last week? Am I about to get executed?

We stepped out of the carriage.

The orphanage matron, an older woman who looked like she had survived at least three revolutions, visibly paled.

“Y-Your Majesties,” she stammered, bowing so fast I thought she might fall over.

Saelira smiled, perfectly regal. “There is no need for formalities. We are simply here to see a dear friend of our granddaughter’s.”

The matron looked like she was experiencing an out-of-body event. “Of… of course.”

I walked up to Riven, who was staring at me like I had personally betrayed him.

“You brought the entire royal family,” he hissed under his breath.

“Not my fault,” I whispered back. “They insisted.”

“Do they know how to do a normal visit?”

I glanced over my shoulder.

Eryndor was inspecting the orphanage’s structural integrity.

Veylen was calculating something terrifying.

Saelira and Ilythia were speaking to the matron with calm, terrifying politeness.

And my mothers?

Verania was grinning like she was enjoying the chaos, while Sylvithra was visibly regretting her life choices.

I turned back to Riven. “No. No, they do not.”

He groaned. “I am going to die.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You say that, but look at them.”

I looked.

He had a point.

To diffuse the tension, I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the courtyard.

“We’re playing outside,” I announced.

The adults, momentarily distracted by their own schemes, allowed it.

Riven, still wary, followed me toward the small, fenced-in yard where the other orphans usually played.

Mara and Elira trailed behind, both of them looking like they were watching an unpredictable explosion in slow motion.

The moment we were away from the towering figures of my family, Riven let out a long, suffering sigh.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Okay. I can survive this. Probably.”

I grinned. “Come on. Let’s have fun before they decide to adopt you.”

Riven stiffened immediately.

“WHAT?”

I laughed. “Kidding. Probably.”

Riven groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve known being friends with you was going to shorten my lifespan.”

We found a wooden training dummy in the corner of the yard a battered old thing the kids used to practice sword swings.

I picked up a small wooden practice sword.

Riven narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Training,” I said. “You should train too. You need to be able to defend yourself.”

Riven snorted. “Against what? The bakery owner when I steal bread?”

“Against my family when they decide to throw you into combat school.”

Riven froze.

And then, with absolutely no hesitation, he grabbed the second practice sword.

“Teach me everything,” he whispered.

Mara howled with laughter in the background.

Elira just muttered, “This is going to end in disaster.”

And honestly?

She wasn’t wrong.

The whole training idea lasted for exactly thirty seconds before it turned into absolute chaos.

It started with a simple swing.

I aimed my wooden practice sword at Riven, intending for a light tap. Nothing too aggressive. Just a casual, friendly sparring match.

Riven, however, panicked.

Instead of blocking like a normal person, he dodged wildly, flailing his arms like he was being attacked by an invisible swarm of bees.

Mara wheeze-laughed from the sidelines. “Oh yes, truly a master swordsman.”

Riven gasped dramatically. “I am a survivor, not a fighter.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re supposed to block, not throw yourself to the ground like a dramatic theater kid.”

“I panicked.”

I swung again gently.

Riven, still not understanding how to block properly, immediately grabbed the nearest object as a shield.

Which happened to be a slightly confused orphan child.

“RIVEN!” I yelped, horrified.

“I’M SORRY, INSTINCTS!”

The child, an innocent bystander, blinked up at me with pure confusion. “Am I… part of the training now?”

Mara lost it.

Elira covered her face, muttering, “This is a disaster.”

Riven, realizing his critical error, gently placed the child back on the ground and patted his head. “You’re free now.”

The kid nodded solemnly. “Thank you.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Okay. Maybe sword fighting isn’t your thing.”

Riven brightened immediately. “Oh, thank gods.”

Mara grinned. “But what about running? Because you’re very good at dodging.”

Riven frowned. “What does that—”

I took off running.

Without thinking, Riven sprinted after me.

And just like that we were playing tag.

The other orphans, previously watching in confusion, immediately joined in, shrieking and laughing as they scattered across the yard.

The next ten minutes were pure, chaotic joy.

Riven, determined not to lose, threw himself behind barrels, ducked under benches, and even attempted to climb a tree to escape being tagged.

(He failed miserably and had to be rescued.)

At one point, Mara joined in, effortlessly dodging everyone, while Elira pretended she was too mature for this but still ended up running when she got tagged.

Even the orphanage matron, after initially fearing for her life, had relaxed, watching us with mild amusement.

The only people who weren’t running were my mothers and grandparents, who were still watching from a distance like they were observing a highly strategic battlefield.

Saelira murmured, “Is this… a training exercise?”

Eryndor, who had been silent until now, replied, “It appears to be organized chaos.”

Verania smirked. “I approve.”

Sylvithra sighed. “Of course, you do.”

But I didn’t care what they thought.

Because for the first time in forever, I wasn’t training, or fighting, or terrifying the palace staff.

I was just having fun.