Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 86

Chapter 86: Etiquette of the Damned
I glanced at Riven, who looked like he regretted every decision he’d ever made.

True friendship, indeed.

With a resigned sigh, I forced my attention back to the instructor, who was now nervously detailing the precise angle one’s chin should be raised to maximize royal disdain without causing an international incident.

“Forty-five degrees,” she explained, trembling slightly, her voice wavering like leaves in a hurricane. “Anything more, and it’s a direct declaration of war.”

I frowned, turning to Riven. “Is she serious?”

He nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, yes. They dedicated an entire chapter in the etiquette textbook to proper chin elevation.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, muttering, “Who writes these manuals? And have they ever actually interacted with a real person?”

[Clearly not. They’re probably locked in a basement somewhere, scribbling furiously while hoping to avoid execution.]

I snorted softly, drawing a cautious glance from the instructor. She flinched when our eyes met, her hands tightening around her delicate teaching stick, a thin wand tipped with a ruby-red gemstone.

“Your Highness,” she stammered, clearly bracing for violence, “did you have a question?”

“No,” I replied calmly. “Merely wondering how many wars my parents started with inappropriate chin angles.”

She paled further, her lips parting in silent horror. The rest of the class froze, eyes wide and fearful. Only Riven buried his face in his hands, muttering prayers to gods who had clearly abandoned him long ago.

“Um,” the instructor whispered, forcing herself to recover some semblance of composure, “perhaps we should move on to practical demonstrations?”

[Mission Reminder: Emotional scarring not permitted. Current progress: Questionable.]

“Practical demonstrations sound excellent,” I said, flashing my best imitation of an encouraging smile. The entire class winced collectively.

The instructor took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself. “Very well. We’ll begin with greeting a foreign dignitary. A neutral scenario first.”

She scanned the room briefly, landing on a girl seated near the front short, red-haired, and trembling slightly in a way that made me suspect she’d rather be anywhere else, even facing a horde of dragons, than here.

“Lady Anissa,” the instructor said gently, “please stand.”

Anissa stood slowly, her knees visibly knocking together beneath her elegant skirt. She was pretty, in a terrified, rabbit-like sort of way. She approached me cautiously, executing a graceful curtsy. “Your Highness.”

I inclined my head exactly as instructed forty-five degrees of precise, measured arrogance. “Lady Anissa.”

She remained frozen, eyes wide, clearly unsure whether she was expected to say something else. The instructor, noticing the impending disaster, stepped forward hastily. “And now you would exchange polite pleasantries.”

I hesitated, looking at Anissa, who stared back, terrified.

“Nice… weather we’re having?” she offered weakly.

“Yes,” I replied stiffly, internally cringing. “It certainly is…weather.”

[Pathetic. Your diplomatic skills are truly inspiring.]

“Shut up,” I muttered under my breath, earning another nervous glance from Anissa.

The instructor cleared her throat. “Lovely! Now, for a scenario involving negotiations of surrender.”

Anissa whimpered quietly, clearly regretting every choice that had led her to this moment.

“Perhaps another volunteer?” the instructor asked weakly.

Silence. No one moved. Half the class suddenly found something extremely fascinating to stare at on their desks.

The instructor’s eyes desperately landed on Riven. “Lord Riven. Perhaps you might—”

“No,” Riven replied immediately, looking absolutely horrified.

“Perfect!” the instructor declared, ignoring his obvious reluctance. “Please approach.”

Riven stood, giving me a pleading glance. “Please don’t execute me,” he murmured.

“No promises,” I whispered back, earning a strangled sound from him.

The scenario began. Riven stepped forward, shoulders squared with visible effort, though his pale face betrayed his terror. “Your Highness, we wish to surrender unconditionally.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He swallowed audibly. “Yes. Absolutely. Please.”

“Hmm.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “What terms?”

He stared, clearly panicking. “Uh… terms?”

“Yes,” I drawled slowly. “Or do you wish to hand over your entire kingdom and all its resources without condition?”

His eyes widened. “I—yes?”

The instructor winced visibly. “Lord Riven, perhaps you might negotiate slightly?”

Riven flushed, stammering hastily. “I mean—perhaps we might retain, um, a small portion of our land? Just enough to survive?”

I tilted my head, feigning thoughtfulness. “What makes you think you deserve any mercy?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Because… you’re… merciful?”

The class gasped softly.

[Wow. Bold of him to assume.]

I smiled sweetly, watching Riven flinch as if struck. “A fascinating assumption.”

“I deeply apologize,” he mumbled, staring at the floor, his ears burning scarlet. “Please spare my kingdom.”

The instructor quickly intervened. “Excellent! Now, a demonstration of gracious acceptance.”

I sighed dramatically. “Very well, Lord Riven. Your surrender is accepted. Do better next time.”

Riven collapsed back into his seat, visibly shaken.

“Bravo,” the instructor breathed, clearly relieved we’d survived without bloodshed. “An exemplary exchange.”

[Mission Update: Slight improvement. Keep going.]

Encouraged, I turned my attention to the next task: displaying royal kindness to one’s subjects a scenario that seemed nearly impossible in my family.

“Who would like to volunteer—”

“Absolutely not,” Riven interrupted, head shaking frantically.

But this time, another student tall and dark-haired, eyes fierce yet cautious stood up hesitantly. “I’ll volunteer.”

The instructor brightened. “Lord Kael, thank you!”

Kael approached with cautious determination, inclining his head politely. “Your Highness, I seek your assistance. My village is suffering from a drought.”

I glanced at the instructor, who nodded encouragingly.

“My condolences,” I began carefully, “What assistance do you require?”

“Your generosity and compassion,” Kael replied, voice steady.

[You’re doomed.]

“Indeed,” I replied dryly, ignoring the system. “And what precisely would demonstrate my generosity?”

Kael considered carefully. “Supplies of food and water.”

I nodded slowly. “A reasonable request. Granted.”

He looked startled. “Truly?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You expected me to refuse?”

“Well,” he admitted, “your family—”

I smirked. “My family has unique negotiation methods, true. But generosity is not entirely unheard of.”

The entire class stared, expressions shifting subtly from fear to cautious curiosity. Kael inclined his head again, visibly relieved. “My gratitude, Your Highness.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied evenly, feeling oddly pleased by the interaction.

[Mild shock detected. Progress made: Students no longer completely convinced you’re a ruthless tyrant.]

The instructor clapped nervously. “Wonderful! That concludes today’s lesson.”

Riven exhaled loudly, sinking further into his seat.

“Not so terrifying after all,” Kael remarked quietly as he returned to his seat, drawing murmured agreement from others nearby.

I couldn’t help but smile slightly at the thought.

Maybe, just maybe, this class wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

“See,” I whispered smugly to Riven, “I’m perfectly capable of diplomacy.”

He snorted. “You traumatized me. Again.”

“That was inevitable,” I replied lightly.

As we rose to leave, several students cautiously approached, expressions wary but interested. Anissa stepped forward hesitantly. “Thank you, Your Highness, for not executing us.”

I laughed softly, genuinely amused. “It was tempting, but you’re welcome.”

They stared, uncertain if I was joking. I didn’t clarify.

Outside the classroom, Mara and Elira waited, both looking suspiciously pleased.

“I heard,” Mara began slyly, “that no one died.”

“Impressive,” Elira added.

“Miracles happen,” I sighed dramatically.

Riven shook his head. “Barely survived.”

“You’re welcome,” I said cheerfully.

Mara leaned closer, eyes sparkling mischievously. “See? Perhaps you’ll make friends yet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

But deep down, as the students walked past, smiling cautiously rather than running in terror, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t destined to be a ruthless tyrant.

[Don’t get sentimental. But I suppose you did well.]

I smiled inwardly.

Even the greatest tyrants started somewhere.