Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 192: The Phoenix Study Group

In the sunlit courtyard, I found my friends gathered under a blossoming tree Mara, fierce and animated as always, gesticulating wildly as she outlined her latest scheme; Elira, rolling her eyes but following every word; Riven, already halfway through a suspiciously large sandwich; and Velka, sitting quietly at the edge, her eyes lighting up when she saw me.

It was almost enough to make me believe things were normal.

But the breeze carried not just the scent of spring and enchanted honey-flowers, but also the whispers the sharp, acidic kind that never quite fade, the kind that coil under doors and slip between cracks, leaving a chill on the back of your neck. If gossip were a magical beast, the academy would've needed a bigger stable.

I sat beside Velka, squeezing her hand under the table a tiny secret in plain sight. Mara slammed a map onto the grass, scattering breadcrumbs and the remains of Riven's sandwich, which he protested with theatrical outrage.

"Your Highness, we have a problem," Mara declared, glancing left and right as if expecting spies in the shrubbery.

"We always have a problem," I replied, affecting calm. "Is this a 'someone tried to assassinate me again' sort of problem, or a 'the laundry went on strike' sort of problem?"

Elira answered, voice flat as a blade: "Rumors. The kind that start fires before you see the smoke."

Riven leaned in, crumbs clinging to his cheek. "And they're getting creative. Yesterday, someone put a talking pamphlet under my pillow. Woke me up at two in the morning, whispering about 'the tyranny of the House of Verania' and 'down with the royal censors'! It wouldn't shut up until I fed it jam."

Velka deadpanned, "That's one way to silence dissent. Did it work?"

Riven considered. "It started quoting political philosophers. In marmalade."

Mara ignored this, pointing at the map, which was, in fact, just a napkin with several suspicious stains and a hasty diagram of the academy. "Listen. The rumors aren't just student nonsense. Someone's stoking the fire pamphlets, secret meetings, enchanted graffiti. Some first-years painted 'Bread and Freedom' on the library steps in glow-in-the-dark runes. It's escalating."

At that exact moment, my system piped up, its voice as smug as always:[Congratulations, Elyzara. You're living through a textbook pre-revolutionary phase. The academy is just a test run. When they burn your effigy in the dining hall, try to look surprised.]

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Did anyone see who's behind it?"

Mara and Elira shared a look. Velka's gaze was unreadable. Riven never one for tact blurted, "No, but I overheard talk of a secret club. The Phoenix Study Group. Real hush-hush, invite only, apparently run by the most insufferable know-it-alls in fourth year."

Elira snorted. "If I hear one more student call themselves a 'freedom scholar,' I'm hexing the next essay I grade to burst into song."

I almost laughed, but the tension wouldn't quite leave my chest. It's one thing to know your parents are unpopular; it's another to feel the ground shifting beneath your feet, the air thick with a new kind of fear.

Mara sat back, scanning my face. "Orders, Princess?"

In the old days, I'd have barked instructions find the ringleaders, disrupt their plans, silence the trouble before it spreads. But Aria's betrayal lingered in the back of my mind: I'd trusted her because I hadn't bothered to listen. Not really.

Maybe that was my parents' mistake, too. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

I cleared my throat. "No orders. Not yet. We'll watch, and we'll listen. If the Phoenix Study Group is at the heart of this, we need to know what they want really want. Not just what they shout in the hallways."

Velka smiled, small but approving. "Smart."

[Look at you, evolving,] the system teased. [One day you might even develop patience.]

"Shut up," I muttered under my breath.

Riven leaned forward, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "I have a plan. I'll go undercover. No one suspects a humble potted plant."

We all turned to him, startled.

He beamed. "I found an extra-large flowerpot in the greenhouse. If I crouch just so, wrap a few enchanted vines boom! Infiltration. Plants are everywhere. No one notices them."

Mara coughed, trying not to laugh. "Riven, you're taller than a small horse."

Elira shook her head. "And you smell like jam."

"Precisely. I'll fit right in."

Despite myself, I smiled. "Alright, but if you get watered, don't blame me."

He grinned, eyes twinkling with the certainty of a boy about to do something gloriously stupid. "Let's meet at midnight. If I'm not back, check the compost heap."

Plans made, we dispersed Velka pausing long enough to squeeze my hand once more, whispering, "Don't let them see you worry." Mara and Elira fell into step behind me, their bodyguard instincts so strong they'd have tackled a shadow if it so much as twitched.

As I walked the halls, rumors nipped at my heels:"Did you hear the royal family banned homework?""I heard Elyzara's parents only eat golden apples makes their magic stronger.""No, no, I heard they're going to raise tuition to fund a giant statue of themselves riding a griffin."

I wondered, not for the first time, how many of these stories were planted, and how many had simply blossomed in the fertile, slightly deranged soil of the academy.

That afternoon, Velka and I prowled the corridors, eyes open for enchanted graffiti. She paused at a bathroom mirror inscribed with:"A kingdom is only as strong as its weakest lie."

She looked at me, thoughtful. "Maybe they have a point."

I frowned. "You sound like you agree with them."

She shrugged, not unkindly. "Maybe I do, a little. Don't you ever wonder why the rumors are so popular? Why the Phoenix Study Group has so many members? Not everyone trusts your parents, Elyzara."

That stung. "They're not tyrants."

"No. But they're not saints, either. No one is."

For a second, I saw myself through her eyes not just as the princess trying to hold things together, but as someone dangerously close to becoming the villain in someone else's story.

[Self-awareness is a growth stat,] the system offered. [You're leveling up.]

I ignored it, but the thought gnawed at me as we regrouped that evening. Mara arrived first, reporting that someone had released a flock of magical pigeons into the staff wing, each bird squawking, "Down with the monarchy!" every thirty seconds. Riven stumbled in last, covered in dirt, plant leaves, and what appeared to be fertilizer.

"How'd it go?" Elira asked, already hiding a smile.

Riven looked at us, wide-eyed. "Never trust a daffodil. They're spies. I tried to blend in by photosynthesizing, but I got watered, twice, and the head gardener said my roots were blocking the sun."

Mara wiped tears from her eyes, doubled over in laughter. Even Velka cracked a rare grin.

I bit my lip, fighting to keep a straight face. "What did you learn?"

He pulled a slightly damp pamphlet from his pocket. "Phoenix Study Group meets in the Old Observatory. Password's 'resurgence.' Oh, and they're planning a rally tomorrow right in the main courtyard."

Suddenly, the game felt more real.A rally students, staff, teachers gathering in one place, united by anger and fear. The perfect tinderbox.

Elira grew serious. "If we don't do something, it won't stop at pamphlets."

Mara nodded. "You want us to shut it down?"

I hesitated. This was what my parents would do crush dissent, make an example. But I wasn't sure that was the right answer anymore. Not after hearing the rumors, not after seeing the real pain behind some of the jokes.

"No," I said. "We'll go to the rally. We'll listen. We need to understand before we act. If there's truth to what they're saying, we can't just silence it."

Velka nodded, pride clear in her gaze.

[This is dangerous,] the system whispered. [Listening changes people. Especially leaders.]

I squared my shoulders, heart pounding. "Then maybe it's time to change."