I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 24: Market Square and the Flamboyant Disguise

The sorceress, Vincent, and Darin emerged from the cavern into a bustling market square, vibrant despite the grime and gloom of the lower districts. The air crackled with a cacophony of sound – vendors hawking their wares, children's laughter, and the clanging of metal from a nearby forge.

"Whoa," Darin muttered, eyes wide, taking in the unfamiliar sights and smells. "This place is...a lot."

He'd been used to the quiet of his village, the simple rhythms of blacksmith life. This sprawling labyrinth of stalls and cobblestone streets felt both exhilarating and overwhelming.

Vincent chuckled, clapping a hand on Darin's shoulder. "Welcome to the capital, Overlord. Don't get lost in the chaos."

Just then, a brightly colored banner caught Darin's eye. It depicted a rough sketch of his distorted birthmark, emblazoned with the words "I Survived the Chicken Duel!" in bold, looping script. Beneath it, a stall overflowed with wares bearing the same design, tote bags, mugs, even a novelty helmet shaped like a rampaging chicken.

Darin blinked. "What in the...?"

"Looks like your little chicken incident became quite the legend," the sorceress said dryly, her lips twitching in amusement.

A particularly pungent scent wafted towards them, causing Darin to wrinkle his nose. A nearby vendor, smelling strongly of old socks and burnt sugar, yelled, "Fresh 'Dark Lord' Cookies, only a silver piece a bag!" He brandished a handful of grimy, charcoal-black cookies shaped like vaguely demonic figures.

"Uh..." Darin stammered, feeling an unfamiliar blush creep up his neck. "Isn't that a bit...over the top?"

Vincent pushed a dirty, hand-stitched pouch into Darin's hand.

"Come on, Overlord, a lord needs souvenirs."

Darun looked at the pouch, cradling it gingerly.

"This feels..."

"...heavy." Darin muttered, holding it up as if surprised by its weight.

The sorceress inclined her head. "Indeed. Seems your fame precedes you even in the heart of the city."

Vincent grinned. "Don't worry, Overlord. It could be worse. Imagine everyone insisted you carry a sacred chicken where ever you go."

Darin shuddered. "Please, no. Not a chicken."

The sorceress, however, seemed to find the idea amusing.

"Think of it as symbolic," she said with a teasing smile. "A reminder that even a dark overlord can be...emasculated by poultry."

Darin let out a groan. "Seriously? That's what sticks with you?"

"Indeed," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "But let's be honest, my dear Overlord, your anxieties are charmingly mundane."

A low growl rumbled from behind them.

"Grumble," Darin hissed, frowning at the shadow familiar that had materialized next to his boot, eyes glowing a menacing orange. He glanced around nervously, expecting accusing stares from the surrounding vendor. That was a look he'd learned to anticipate.

"Do try to control him," Vincent said, raising an eyebrow at the feisty creature that was now attempting to eat Darin's bootlace.

Darin sighed, attempting to pry Grumble away.

"He's just...excited about the city."

"More like overexcited," the sorceress muttered, her gaze flicking to the partially consumed bootlace.

"Right," Darin agreed, pulling Grumble's leathery, clawed hand away. It didn't particularly look thrilled. "Right."

"I believe we must acquire a disguise," the sorceress declared, her voice sharper now.

"Disguise?" Darin asked, confused.

"Indeed," she said, glancing around the bustling market. "We cannot walk the streets as we are. Especially not you, Overlord. People would recognize you instantly, especially that dragon."

Darin stared at the bustling market, crammed with pedestrians and merchants. They'd stick out like a sore thumb, especially with Steve puffing miniature flames every other second and Grumble trailing after them with a disgruntled growl. "But how?"

Vincent genially clapped a hand on Darin's shoulder, effortlessly weaving through the crowd. "Don't worry, Overlord. We have several options." He winked, gesturing towards a nearby stall overflowing with colorful fabrics and masks.

The sorceress surveyed the vendors, her gaze settling on a wizened stall owner clutching a worn leather book. She strode confidently toward him, calling out, "Alaric! My old friend! Still peddling your wares?"

Alaric looked up, squinting at the sorceress with suspicion. "Sorceress, what surprises you with your troupe this fine day?"

Her smile was sharp, her eyes gleaming. "We need your talents, my friend. A little...disguise work."

Before Alaric could inquire further, the sorceress gestured towards Darin and Vincent. "My companions require your expert touch. Particularly this gentleman," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.

She moved aside to reveal Darin, who stood awkwardly, clutching the pouch of coins Vincent had given him. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the stares of several nearby onlookers. "Uh, he just needs, you know, something...everyday?" he mumbled, hoping the vendors wouldn't pick up on the crude "Dark Lord" cookies in his pocket.

Vincent, meanwhile, was examining a rack of feathered headdresses with mock seriousness. He gently stroked a plume of emerald green, purring contentedly. "Something understated, perhaps," he murmured to himself.

Alaric, undeterred by Darin's awkwardness, beckoned them closer. His gaze swept over Darin, lingering on his towering physique and oversized belly, wait Why is his belly moving?.

"Hmm," Alaric muttered, stroking his long, white beard. "A sturdy build, I see. We need something that'll conceal those assets, yet allow for freedom of movement. Tell me, my friend, what skills dost thou possess?"

Darin blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. He shuffled his feet, trying to think of a respectable answer. "Uh...I'm pretty good at fixing things?" he offered hesitantly.

Alaric chuckled, his eyes twinkling.

"That sounds useful. Let's see what we have here..."

Darin looked down at his shirt where Steve is hidden.

"I should probably mention," Darin added quietly, "that I have a...little...pet dragon."

Alaric raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A dragon, you say?"

"Yes," Darin confirmed, a nervous smile spreading across his face. "He's kind of little. Doesn't usually like the cold."

Darin cautiously unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a smoldering ember nestled amongst his ribs.

Steve poked his snout out, his eyes blinking sleepily. He yawned, a plume of smoke billowing out and scorching a nearby fabric stall.

Alaric gasped, nearly dropping his book. "Well, I'll be..." he muttered, eyes wide with astonishment. He cautiously reached out a fingertip, letting Steve nuzzle against it with a soft chirp.

"He likes you already," Darin said, feeling a flicker of amusement despite the chaos.

Steve, intrigued, decided to lick Alaric's finger. As expected, it shot ahead to transform into a very large flame. Thereafter, it proceeded to sneeze, exhale a puff of golden sparks, then perch on Alaric's head, giving him a good lick.

"My, my," Alaric said, gingerly patting the tiny dragon on his head. Smoke curled lazily around his white beard. "Perhaps a nod to the fiery elements, hm?" He chuckled, glancing at Darin with a knowing look. "Don't you worry, my friend. We'll find something to accommodate both you, your dragon, and your...shadowy companion. Leave it to old Alaric to craft the perfect disguise."

Grumble, who had been watching with disinterest, suddenly hissed, his glowing orange eyes fixated on a tray of shimmering gemstones at the stall behind Alaric. He darted forward, snatching one and retreating back to Darin's feet.

Darin's jaw dropped. "Grumble, give that back!"

He reached down, but Grumble, clutching the gemstone between his claws, scuttled deeper into the shadows under the stall.

"Hmm, perhaps a touch of mystique would be helpful," Alaric mused, watching the interaction with a twinkle in his eye. "We'll see if we can work magic into this whole endeavor." He sauntered towards a rack overflowing with thick, black fabric, emerging moments later with a heavy cloak that appeared to shimmer with an inner light. "Something to conceal your...features," he said, gesturing towards Darin and Steve. "And a hint of intrigue."

The sorceress, meanwhile, had snagged a pair of unassuming spectacles from a nearby vendor, holding them up with a playful smirk. "These should add a touch of scholarly charm." She handed them to Vincent, who slipped them on, instantly transforming from a nobleman with magical aspirations into an aloof, vaguely bookish figure.

Vincent blinked, the green lenses casting his normally crystalline eyes in an emerald glow. He surveyed his reflection in a polished metal tray, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Excellent. This disguise works wonders."

Alaric held up a squirrel-skin cap with dangling tassels. "And for you, my friend," he said, turning to Darin, "A touch of...forest wisdom."

Darin eyed the cap with suspicion. "I don't think I can pull that off."

Alaric shrugged, tossing it playfully. "Suit yourself. But you'll stick out like a sore thumb in that embroidered shirt."

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Darin shuddered. He meant to change it for something more modest after the marketplace, but he'd gotten distracted by a particularly pungent cheese stall and completely forgotten.

Before Darin could protest, the sorceress snatched the cap from the air, placing it forcefully onto Darin's head. "Nonsense, my dear Overlord," she said, pushing him towards the exit of the market. "Embrace your inner woodland creature."

"Wait," Darin started, but she was already pulling him through the throng of people.

He glanced back at Alaric, who winked conspiratorially and began meticulously counting some small coins. Grumble still held the stolen gemstone, now proudly licking it with his leathery tongue.

Darin barely had time to grumble about the itchy cap when a shadow fell over him. "Incredible," the sorceress murmured, her eyes fixed on something behind them. "It appears we aren't entirely alone."

Darin squinted ahead, looking for the source of her attention. His gaze landed on a slender figure shrouded in a black hooded cloak, their face obscured by a delicate silver mask adorned with intricate, swirling patterns. She glided towards them, silent as a wraith, and dipped her head in a curt, respectful bow. The movement sent a shiver down Darin's spine.

Before anyone could speak, Vincent spoke, his voice tinged with surprise and something akin to relief. "Great," he said, turning to the masked figure. "My shadow finally found me."

The woman tilted her head slightly, as if listening to some unspoken command. "Lord Vincent," she spoke, her voice a soft, barely-there whisper. "The Lion awaits."

Vincent smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He nodded curtly. "Tell the King," he commanded, his tone sharp, "that we have arrived. The Overlord is ready to address him."

The sorceress turned her gaze onto Darin, an intrigued smile dancing across her lips. "Such theatrical flair. My, aren't royal court gatherings the absolute worst?" she mused. "Always more smoke and mirrors than substance."

Darin scowled. The sorceress was starting to irritate him with her nonchalant attitude. Maybe Alaric would throw in something sharper, with less glitter and tassels, somewhere down the road.

"Let's hope not all smoke. Especially with 'dark magic' apparently running rampant around here." Vincent added dryly, smoothing out his newly-acquired scholar-persona's robes. "And considering you insisted, Overlord, on revealing your... fiery companions, hope shouldn't be our highest strategy." His gaze fell to Steve, who was snoozing in a pile of discarded fabric, a faint halo of heat flickering around his golden snout. "Although, dragons always do pique public interest," he conceded with a wry grin.

"I highly doubt the king enjoys impromptu shadow pets, thank you very much." The masked woman, whom Darin learned as Lilith, drawled, drawing on a strange pipe filled with glittering dust, plumes of vibrant green smoke spiraling around them.

Darin muttered something about keeping her opinions about the king quiet.

Lilith cocked an eyebrow at Darin, who finally seemed awake.

"Finally," Darin sighed. "We can finally get this over with. Once I talk to the King, all this..." he waved a hand vaguely towards the whirlwind surrounding them "...will be over.

Lilith chuckled darkly, a melodious, unsettling sound.

"So this is the overlord that has been very popular recently?" Lilith countered, her voice laced with a playful challenge.

Vincent sighed, patting the silver mask on his chest. "My dear Lilith," he drawled, "Can't a man enjoy a bit of theatrical absurdity without an interjection from the grim reaper's designated assistant?"

"Assistant?" Lilith's voice dropped, a dangerous edge creeping into her tone. "I'd hardly classify myself as a mere assistant, Lord Vincent. And I distinctly recall being sent to shadow...not sully."

Vincent gave her an exasperated look. "Regardless, your presence here is...untenable," he stated flatly. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. You have served your purpose. Go. And do try to be less...lethal in your usual pursuits." He gestured to some nearby buildings with a barely noticeable flick of his wrist. "Enjoy the lively ambiance of the market. Begone."

Lilith narrowed her eyes, her gaze lingering on Darin for a moment before she gave a sharp, curt curtsey and melted back into the bustling crowd with uncanny speed.

"Let's move deeper into the city. This cloak and spectacles disguise Barry," vincent said, nodding toward Steve, who was happily chasing a pigeon in the marketplace, ignoring Vincent's words.

"And while we're at it," he added, "Let's skip the flamboyant displays of magic. We want to pass as ordinary citizens, not...hooting gala events."

Darin grumbled about the lack of flamboyant displays, especially considering a very pointed glare sent his way by a nobleman with an impressive collection of ruffled collars.

The group moved deeper into the city, following narrow alleys and cobblestone streets to avoid crossing the path of any overly scrutinizing nobles.

As they weaved through the throngs of people, they felt the ever-present eyes of the city on them. Whispers followed them – But thanks to Lilith's unconditional way of knocking people out, the journey finally seems peaceful.