Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 74

Chapter 74: The First-Ever Tyrant Horse Race
The moment the words left my lips, a wave of absolute despair crashed over my unfortunate “steeds.” The cloaked figures beneath me tensed, as if their very souls had been cursed with an unspeakable fate.

The second one the one not currently carrying me visibly shuddered. “This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, but it is.”

Mara, delighted beyond words, clasped her hands together. “Oh, this is magnificent. The first-ever Tyrant Horse Race! I’ll get the betting pool started.”

Elira, who had long since abandoned the idea of stopping me from causing chaos, sighed. “I refuse to be a part of this.”

Smaug, meanwhile, grinned like an absolute menace. “Oh, I am very much a part of this.” His tail whipped excitedly, nearly taking out a decorative pillar. “Shall I provide a proper starting signal?”

“Absolutely.”

The cloaked figures exchanged horrified glances.

I could practically hear them thinking: There is no way this is real.

Spoiler alert: It was very real.

Across the courtyard, my parents and grandparents had already taken their places as the enthusiastic spectators of this absolute catastrophe.

Verania, still gleefully taking pictures, leaned toward Sylvithra. “Darling, should we place bets?”

Sylvithra tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I think I will. Who do you think will break first?”

Saelira, ever the strategist, observed the cloaked figures like a war general analyzing enemy troops. “The one on the left is already shaking. He’s finished.”

Grand Warlord Eryndor simply nodded in solemn approval. “A fitting test of endurance.”

Grand Consort Ilythia, as always, maintained an air of elegant amusement. “It’s quite a unique approach to diplomacy.”

Grand Strategist Veylen, the most composed of them all, sighed as he adjusted his sleeves. “She’s a Thorne, through and through.”

Meanwhile, my “horses” were still processing their impending humiliation.

I grinned. “Alright, my fine steeds. Here are the rules.”

“There are rules?” one of them muttered in disbelief.

“Yes,” I said cheerfully. “One you must carry your designated rider to the finish line without collapsing from exhaustion.”

A groan. “Great.”

“Two if you drop your rider, you lose immediately.”

The other one visibly twitched. “Why.”

“And three—” I tilted my head, flashing an entirely too-sweet smile. “If you try to escape, Smaug gets to chase you.”

Silence.

Smaug let out a deep, guttural growl that shook the air. His massive fangs glinted as he lowered his head toward the two unfortunate souls.

“Oh, please try to run,” he rumbled. “Make my day.”

I could physically see their spirits leave their bodies.

[ You are actually a menace. ]

I smirked. “Thank you.”

Smaug raised a wing. “On my signal—”

The cloaked figures whispered prayers to whatever gods still listened to them.

Mara grinned. “I’ve got fifty gold on the one on the left dropping out first.”

Verania clapped her hands. “Oh, I’ll double that bet.”

Sylvithra tapped her chin. “Hmm. No, I believe the one on the right will break first.”

The cloaked figures looked physically ill.

Smaug, positively radiating joy, roared:

“GO!”

Instant chaos.

The figure beneath me screamed in raw panic, sprinting forward with the kind of speed only found in the truly desperate.

I nearly lost my balance. “Oh! Not bad!”

Meanwhile, the second one the one carrying Mara immediately tripped over his own feet.

Face-first into the dirt.

Mara cackled, completely unbothered. “Oh, you pathetic fool.”

Elira, watching from the sidelines, covered her face with both hands. “I am going to resign.”

My own ride, seeing his fellow suffer an immediate failure, let out a choked noise of terror and doubled his pace.

I grinned, clinging to his back with royal elegance. “Yes, yes! Faster! My victory must be absolute!”

Behind us, Smaug began leisurely flying overhead, his massive shadow looming over the courtyard.

He chuckled. “I have to say, this is much better than setting them on fire.”

The second figure still struggling to recover from his tragic fall crambled back to his feet. “I hate everything.”

Verania gasped dramatically. “Oh no, Sylvithra, it looks like you might win the bet.”

Sylvithra grinned. “Of course I will.”

Saelira, watching with barely concealed amusement, sipped her wine. “This is an impressive display of survival instincts.”

Ilythia nodded approvingly. “Yes. We should do this again next week.”

Veylen sighed deeply. “Why are we like this.”

Mara, who had miraculously gotten her “steed” back on track, pointed dramatically ahead. “Onward, fool! We must secure my honor!”

Elira, muttering under her breath, looked at me. “Do you actually have a finish line in mind?”

“…Huh.”

I had not thought that far ahead.

Smaug let out an amused huff. “Oh, she just makes these things up as she goes.”

[ So, in summary you had no plan, you had no goal, and yet you have once again managed to drag an entire royal court into your nonsense. ]

I beamed. “I’m very talented.”

The race continued with absolute chaos.

My “steed” was panting aggressively, his movements becoming increasingly frantic.

Mara’s “steed,” still fighting through the trauma of his earlier fall, nearly crashed into a statue.

Smaug roared with laughter, wings casting a dramatic shadow over the courtyard.

Verania and Sylvithra cheered us on like we were competing for the world championship.

Saelira, Eryndor, Ilythia, and Veylen simply observed with their signature mix of pride and existential crisis.

Mara, ever the chaos enthusiast, declared, “This is the best day of my life.”

One final, spectacular failure.

The second “steed” collapsed dramatically, sending Mara rolling across the ground.

Mara, mid-air, flipped twice before landing perfectly on her feet.

“…Well,” she sighed. “You tried.”

Her “steed” groaned weakly.

Smaug, still hovering above, chuckled. “And the winner is…”

I, sitting triumphantly atop my still-suffering steed, smirked.

“Me, obviously.”

Mara crossed her arms. “Debatable.”

Sylvithra, smug beyond reason, gestured at the collapsed figure. “Well, I won the bet.”

Verania, who was absolutely thriving, tossed her a pouch of gold. “Fine, fine. But did you see our daughter? Flawless victory.”

Saelira nodded in agreement. “Truly an imperial-level performance.”

Smaug, grinning wildly, stretched his wings. “Can we do this again?”

Elira, done with everything, turned to me. “Are you happy now?”

I considered it.

Then, with all the grace of a true ruler I patted my “steed” on the head.

“Excellent work. You have served me well.”

He groaned in misery.

[ This… was the dumbest thing I have ever witnessed. ]

I beamed. “You’re welcome.”