A/N: Chapter 2! This one's a bit shorter than I would have liked, but for pacing's sake it made sense to leave it as its own chapter. On the bright side, due to this decision I now have half of Chapter 3 done!
Chapter 2: Dress Up is No Place For a Mighty Overlord
Krichevskoy glared at his reflection, pointedly ignoring the vassal attending to his fitting. "I look ridiculous," he grumbled, and winced as a belt was pulled just a little too tightly around his arm.
"Nonsense," his mother assured him. "You look positively wicked~"
Krichevskoy was hardly convinced. He continued to stare at the tight-fitting monstrosity of belts, chains, and spikes with disdain. The only thing he even remotely liked was the cape, and even then the black-spiked eyesores they dared to call shoulder pads completely ruined it.
"Oh stop pouting, Krichevskoy. You will never get anywhere acting like that. And in any case it's about time you started acting like the dignified dark prince you are supposed to be. This is an ensemble that will strike fear into the hearts of friend and foe alike! You should wear it with pride!"
"There is nothing about this that is dignified," he shot back. "They will not shrink back in fear, they will simply laugh at me! I look as though I am compensating for something!"
"Krichevskoy!"
"I can hardly even bend my legs! Why would anyone need this many belts on their pants? There is no part of this that is functional!"
"It does not need to be functional. And belts are always in fashion."
"Be that as it may, this is still far too many. It is not fashionable at all. Can I not just wear what I always do? Or, or I found something else that looks quite elegant and refined!"
Almost immediately, Krichevskoy's mother turned a bright shade of red. "You will dress like an evil Overlord and you will like it, young man!" she shouted. The attendee turned to stare at the queen, and Krichevskoy's mouth set itself into a stubborn scowl. The queen put a hand to her forehead and sighed, a hint of desperation edging its way into her voice. "Please, Krichevskoy. Listen to your mother and act like a proper demon just this once. At least wear it in the throne room when your father and I meet with people today. I ask this as a favor for your father and I—a favor we will pay you back for!"
His mother's tone made him wince internally. To have made his mother have to plead with him… Did she want him to wear it that badly? "Yes, mother," he mumbled, and didn't look her in the eye. Even if it was a travesty against fashion, it wouldn't hurt to wear it for a few hours, would it? And she had said she would pay him back. Maybe he could use the return favor to get his books back! A few hours for months of enjoyment seemed a perfectly fair trade.
The queen let out a soft sigh of relief and smiled at him fondly. "You really are the better one."
It was not a fair trade. It was by no means whatsoever a fair trade.
Krichevskoy stomped stiff-legged into his room and desperately squirmed about in an attempt to pull the shoulder pads and cape off. One book. That was all he had received after an hour of being laughed at for the awful outfit, and that was only because his father had taken pity on him (and thought the thing was as awful as Krichevskoy knew it to be). And then there was that succubus who pinched his cheek and patronizingly went on about how "cute" he looked "trying to dress up like a big, bad Overlord."
The memory brought an even greater desperation to get the wretched thing off of him, and he tore at the belts and chains in a frenzy, tossing each piece here and there about the room for the prinnies to clean up.
"Someday I shall defeat them for this," he mumbled, sending another belt flying across the room, narrowly missing the mirror. "For my books… And my dignity!" Another two hit the door with a heavy "thunk." He stopped and posed with considerable determination in front of the mirror. "This is absolutely unforgivable! If they think I will take this lying down, they are sorely mistaken!"
Of course, all this was easier said than done. Krichevskoy may have been powerful, but his parents could easily best him in a fight, and he was loathe to call upon Vesuvio for aid. If he was going to defeat his parents, he would do so himself, as any proud demon would. Not to mention he was certain his brother would turn on him and try to take the throne for himself as soon as all was said and done and that, frankly, was a hassle Krichevskoy didn't think he'd ever be ready to deal with.
He cast a glance at the window. Perhaps another instance of rebellion? It seemed like the best choice for the moment, but it lacked that little something extra. Sneaking out was a fine retribution but it was also so plain. He looked around the room for a burst of inspiration and finally his eyes fell upon the book he had retrieved. A small chuckle escaped him as a new idea began to form in his head. Yes, that would be absolutely perfect. His parents constantly worried about what sort of demon he would be later on in life, so why not bring their worries to life for awhile? It was a bit passive-aggressive to be sure, but it would certainly afford him a victory.
And so with a scheme in his head and a smile on his face, Krichevskoy set about to ridding himself of the rest of that awful outfit. After all, it would not do for a thief to wear such restricting clothes.