To see both faces.

Chapters

Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Four

Chapter Two

At the very least, Vincent received a double take or a lingering gaze for his choice in attire. For the most he heard passing whispers of both caution and intrigue. Understandably, if he was dragged by a bubbly pink mare towards a fine specimen of eco-architecture, whilst balancing his cake, then he would earn all of the above and more. Having left the empty street in a hurry it was somewhat bizarre to be thrown back into the bustling community of Ponyville. Ponies gaped at the spectacle of Pinkie Pie towing Vincent all the way across the street to Golden Oaks Library.

The library was wider than a cottage, touching three stories tall before the branches of the tree reached out with a thick covering of green leaves. Ocular windows were dotted here and there, allowing light a portal through the bark and body. Several varieties of flowers hung in baskets, ivory starting to entwine with the bannisters of balcony above. Vincent caught sight of a telescope end pointing out before Pinkie interrupted his moment of admiration.

“Well here we are, Vinny!” she said with a gesture of the hand, “Golden Oaks, home to both books and bookworms alike!” She released her grip, laughing as she skipped to the arched door. “But most importantly, Twily and Spike lives here.”

He absentmindedly flexed his freed fingers and tilted his head to the side. It made sense for Pinkie to be on informal terms with Princess Twilight. From what he had been told, the Elements were rather close prior to the Princess’ coronation—not that such a relationship surprised him.

“Spike?” Even uttering the name didn’t help him recall it, if he had ever heard it before. “Are they… a servant or…” He trailed off with a shrug, leading him to almost lose balance of the cake.

“Nope!” Pinkie replied, smiling over her shoulder as she beat a rhythm onto the door. “Spike is Twi’s assistant. I think you’ll like him. He’s the friendliest, cutest, hungriest, pudgiest little dra-”

“Come in!” The warm voice struck Vincent as prepubescent, a male one at that. “It’s a public library for crying out loud!” Definitely an early teen.

Pinkie then beckoned Vinny to follow as she bound inside. All in all, this was rather informal and completely left him stumped on what the protocol for meeting the Princess was. There were rules, social graces to keep, careful steps to follow like a gentle waltz. Members of royalty can allow slack, at their say, such as the many cases with Princess Celestia. Others prefer by the book and take greater time for even a hint of leeway, such as the case with Prince Blue Blood.

‘How does one go about being respectful to the Princess of Friendship, Avatar of Magic, defender of Equestria from two apocalypses, one invasion, who lives in a tree library open to the public?’ He scratched the back of his hood as he migrated towards the door. His mask shifted to look towards the cake still in his possession, a gentle hum escaping his head whilst it tilted in habit. ‘Maybe I do have a use for you.’

“Woah.”

His thought having been derailed by a single word lead him to freeze up and observe the male before him. Purple scales covered his short form, polished and glistening like the rich green spines arching over his head. The young reptile was wide in the face, in the jade eyes, and broader in the pudgy body. Fins protruded out the side of his head and ivory white fangs slipping over the lower lip. A spade tipped tail fell to the ground beside the waist-tall lad as he stared up with an incredulous look.

“So did the mailmares decide their new uniform by jumping into a wardrobe and falling out?” he inquired, scratching his chin with a claw. Vincent chuckled heartily as he shook his head, the sight earning a raised scale brow.

‘A drake not trying to remove something from me for once, how pleasant.’

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not part of the post,” Vincent replied with mirth in his tone, before cupping the chin of his mask in a thoughtful manner. “Mmmm, then again I suppose have been demoted to courier for today, for why I know not.” The hand fell as the young lad gave him a once over, the brow of suspicion raising higher and higher.

“Uhuh,” he replied dryly, “So you actually made the decision to wear all that.” Vincent bristled beneath the attire, fully aware of how others did perceive him, but firmly believing this was the better option. He had his reasons.

“The coat’s actually fire retardant,” Vincent stated, pulling on the right lapel, exposing more of the battered armour beneath. The slight eye bulge was satisfying. “All of it has some merits when out and about in Equestria. The breast plate too.” He offered his gloved hand to the drake.

“Ser Vincent,” he said, “and what would you like me to call you in kind, little drake?”

“Oh, I’m Spike!” His cheerful reply complimented the eager grasp and shake, as well as the motion to thumb to himself with a prideful grin. “I’m Twilight’s number one assistant.” His four-digited claw mingled neatly into the larger palm. “So, erm, are you dropping off the cake or something?”

Spike’s serpentine eyes locked onto golden sponge cake, the phantom taste of such a succulent treat moistening his lips enough to warrant a lick of a forked tongue. Both released their grasp, Spike leaning onto the tips of his pointed toes as he took a deep sniff with his dragon snout. Vincent huffed in amusement.

‘Well, at least he isn’t trying to take it by force.’

“The cake was gifted to me by Miss Pinkie Pie, speaking of which, I need to thank her for it as well as deliver a letter to the princess. Perhaps we could share it?” The prospect of free, fresh cake set Spike’s tail into overdrive. He beamed a hopeful smile.

“There’s no need to thank me, silly Vinny.” Pinkie poked her head around the door frame. “It’s a little gift from me to you to say ‘welcome to Ponyville, have a great day!’” She beckoned him in. “Twilight’s inside.”

Her kind words were welcomed, his free hand slowly closing as if to grip the sentiment. He inhaled loud enough to be heard, savouring the aroma of the cooling cake, before exhaling slowly. His gaze lowered to the young drake, who was already waddling in.

“You coming in?” he asked. Vincent nodded, deciding to knock as much dried muck from his boots as possible before entering the princess’ abode. It was only polite and common courtesy, and he was supposed to be making a good impression.

A cozy warmth embraced him, bringing the scent of aged pages and incense as the door was slammed shut. It was an intoxicating aroma, seemingly making him more alert as he gazed around the library ground floor. The wall, for it was a single round room spanning the entire trunk, was lined with bookshelf after filled bookshelf. A central table was wide enough for a large group, a wooden bust claiming it as its own and sitting in the middle; three other benches were also spotted, along with a checking desk by the door. A stairway extending out of the wall lead to the upper floor, most likely privatised for the owner given the closed doors and hung photographs.

“TWILIGHT!” Spike yelled towards a door on the side of the stair case. “You got mail!”

“I’m coming!” Vincent could hear the Canterlot cadence to the voice, memories growing distinct silhouettes in a surrounding hazy fog. Few were there, but there was enough. A stranger he never got to know, a stranger he lost desire to know as time went on, and a stranger that he learnt was the student of Princess Celestia.

The air was electric for a moment, the hairs of his tail taking on life and rising. He could sense what was coming and felt a surge near the centre, a split second before a magenta flash bathed the room. The crackling pop that followed echoed in his ears, the static buzz of magic quickly transforming to become reminiscent of wind chimes in a spring breeze.

By the table in the middle of the room, a lavender alicorn stood with her wings folded. She was on the slender side, her figure almost hourglass. He could only view her from the back. Well-groomed wings were folded and bisected by the long straight mane trailing down the centre of her back. Her groomed tail came to behind her shins, longer than most would keep, and was striking combination of dark purple streaked by a warm pink. She turned slightly, revealing the pink six pointed start orbited by five others of white: her cutie mark to symbolise magic.

“Spike, you said I have mail?” Her pert muzzle shot to the drake, revealing her bangs stopping above her brow.

Vincent never took his eyes off the alicorn, his gaze focused on her as he reached into his breast pocket. The rustle of fabric drew the attention of her pointed ear, the twitch signalling the moment she’d turn to face him. All in all, he was surprised to see the princess without any form of royal regalia—not even a crown sitting behind her horn. She bore a perplexed expression, more off guard than concerned; she blinked owlishly, her cute features contorting to relay her surprise.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.” She giggled, pleasantly enough despite her hands locking together in self-comfort.

“Please, excuse me then, your majesty,” Vincent replied, taking to a knee. His gloved hand, worn and weary, offered the sealed envelope as he kept his gaze to immaculate floorboards. “I am one of the Prince’s best stallions, and he has sent me deliver this message to you.” He heard the whispers of Blueblood’s name. He kept his mask directed to the floor.

“What does Blueblood want to say to me?” the princess inquired. The mystical sound of small bells ringing reached his ears, the letter slipping, physically requesting release to which he dutifully obliged.

“I’m not sure myself,” he admitted.

“Erm, is the cake for me too?”

Vincent’s attention shot up. Fortunately whatever horrified expression he bore was hidden beneath hood and mask as he looked between the cake and princess. This simply screamed unofficial and impolite! He was supposed to be a representative of his kind, those in the Prince’s favour, and here he was greeting a member of the royal family as if it was Celestia’s birthday!

‘Which, granted, would be fine, if it was that one alicorn princess of the four in existence!’

“It was gifted to me by Miss Pinkie Pie,” he blurted, snapping his gaze back to the ground, “I am grateful for the gift, but it does not excuse me bringing it into official matters like this—I planned to set it down and share it—“

When a chuckle escaped the princess, Vincent released a defeated sigh and clenched his fist as if to grip as much fleeting dignity as possible. Another bout of a magical melody and he felt the weight of the plate lessen until his hand was free of the delicious burden.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, you’re certainly not the first to have cake forced on them and thank you for the offer.” Her gratitude did ease his nerves. Instead he briefly pondered how often Miss Pinkie did roll out the welcome wagon.

“D’awww! Thanks for sharing!” Pinkie called out from the far side of the room.

“Spike, could you get a few plates and a knife?” Princess Twilight said.

“On it!” Spike replied in a heartbeat. Whilst listening to the waddle of the drake, Vincent heard Pinkie speak up.

“Hey, um, Twi, I think he’s stuck like that until you say something.”

“Huh? Oh, y-you don’t have to do anything like that, so…” There was an awkward pause before she added, with an uncertain inflection to her tone, “Arise?”

With a huff, Vincent rose to full height. There were times when wearing a fully obscuring mask posed minor inconveniences—the blank stare and hooded eye combination deterred a few—but was he ever thankful that it hid his grimace.

“So,” Princes Twilight chirped, beginning to open the letter, “I think you've got to know our names, care to share yours?” Her smile faltered when he spread his legs shoulder width apart, his arms swinging to link behind his back as he straightened up. Even with his chin raised his neck was obscured by fabric and an armoured mantle.

“I am Ser Vincent Costello, proud service stallion of the Solaris Knights and one of Prince Blueblood’s personal guards.” His tone was official. A gloved hand returned to the front, landing flat against his heart as he inclined his head in respect. The girls looked between one and other speechlessly. Simultaneously, Blueblood’s task(s) returned to his mind. “On behalf of all knights in the land, I swear to uphold the values of service to the crown to you as well, Princess Twilight Sparkle. It is an honour to be in your presence.”

“Wowee!” squealed Pinkie, bouncing towards him. She held an ecstatic shine to her eye as she leant up to him. Vincent was not one to easily welcome others into his personal space and retreated with a single step. “Like, a real monster hunting, bandit battering, sinister cult slaying, ale chugging knight!?”

He was halfway through raising a hand to stop her when it stopped and descended.

“I’ve never met an evil cult before,” he admitted, leaning further back. “I also don’t drink too often.”

“Vincent?” Twilight muttered to herself, bringing a curled finger to her lip whilst the letter slipped out of the envelope. “Why is that familiar?”

“Really?” Pinkie added, leaning further in.

“Yes.”

“Really really?” She reiterated with a higher pitch and wider grin.

“Yes.” Vincent replied flatly, backing up into a bookshelf.

“Really really reeaally?” With her pitch climbing into unheard decibels, it was difficult to tell if she added a fourth ‘really’.

He growled as he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back.

“Yes! Please mind your space, Miss Pie.” His scolding tone was deflected by her twitching ear; Pinkie merely giggled before taking a step back. He huffed, his gloved hand reaching to his chest. “Here, my sign of authority and authentication.” He couldn’t help but let slip pride in those words.

“Prince Blueblood certainly made sure to confirm you authenticity.” Princess Twilight interjected, looking up from the letter with a pleasant smile. “Never thought him to speak so honestly… or highly of anypony, truth be told. He’s written a bit about you to avoid this sort of thing,” she finished as her eyes fell to the letter in her hands.

Her brows then burrowed together.

“As well as provide a summary of your wardrobe…”

The union split, her scowl parting as an eyebrow migrated towards her bangs. Her expression fell onto deadpan as she could be heard muttering, “Alongside what he believes to be an accurate summary of me-“

She abruptly stopped reading as she reached the bottom of the page. Vincent, having been left in the dark about the content of the letter, found the sudden silence disconcerting. Especially the way she would switch her focus between the paper and him.

“Vincent?”

When she spoke with the faintest of recognition, his heart stopped. When realisation struck her features, his hand automatically coiled in anticipation. Her deafening silence only made his thoughts echo inside his mind, a subdued panic that chilled his blood with every mental syllable. He stood still, statuesque as he bore his blank stare towards her, ignoring the other occupant’s concerned glances between him and the princess.

She knows.

Two words. Just two words were all it took to discombobulate him, to lock him in place. He hated these moments where his body and mind told him to wait for them to speak. To wait for the reaction so that he may counter. That was all he knew deep beneath the mask.

To look away.

Princess Twilight blinked, startling herself with a quick breath. Aware of the awkward position she was in, she coughed into her hand before offering an awkward smile.

“Well, you certainly look… different, heh.” He didn’t buy it. By all regards, it was a lame way to escape the realm of awkwardness. Not that he helped. The sigh of great relief that escaped him was not lost to anypony, and he chided himself for not being professional.

“N-Not really, ma’am.” He rubbed the back of his head, coughing into his own gloved hand through the mask.

“Hey, Twi!” Pinkie chimed from between the two. She shot the alicorn an inquisitive glance, tilting her head and aiming her ears forward. “Do you know Vinny?”

“Not really. I just know of him from when I was still in Canterlot studying under Princess Celestia.” Twilight’s abrupt explanation was enough to quell Pinkie’s curiosity for now.

“If I may,” Vincent interjected as politely as one hoping to derail a conversation quickly could, “I would like to relay my second reason for my presence.” He paused to pull out another parchment from his coat.

“There’s more?” It seemed Princess Twilight was just as eager as him to move on, though as to why, he was uncertain. At least Pinkie seemed merry (though he’d wager that was always the case). He cleared his throat and raised his head.

“Three days ago we lost five crates of armoury shipment when it was reported, by the same delivery team to survive the attack, that the Everfree Forest was invading the rest of Equestria.” He offered the paper to Pinkie who eagerly took hold. “I was in Trottingham at the time, with the prince, and it was rather interesting guarding the town from malicious garden weeds.”

“Oh, I get what this is about.” Twilight added with realisation blossoming on her features.

“As it is, we thought the crates were lost deep in the forest,” he continued, “Priorities were not with them after the destruction of parts of neighbouring towns, so it was deemed that only one knight was needed for the recovery.”

He tilted his head, letting the words slide further about his mind as his hidden gaze lingered on the letter. It was definitely a waste of his talents and time for him to both deliver mail and recover military cargo. True, one was a letter from prince to princess, and the other meant not letting high quality armour be lost to possible nefarious beings, but there were others for this sort of thing.

Like fresh out training recruits in need of field experience.

What really stoked the fire of suspicion was that the crates were no longer lost, so a search was not even necessary, hence why others would be better suited.

"Woah!" Everyone turned to face Pinkie, who gaped in awe -hand on cheek- at the letter. There was a moment of silence before she held the paper in front of Twilight's face. "Prince Blueblood's signature is, like, the fanciest I've ever seen!"

Twilight, after peeling the paper from her snout by hand, studied the parchment. It turned out to be a letter authenticating and designating orders of retrieval, and she read enough of her step-sister's to recognise orders directly from royalty. The page was bordered by silver, the writing an elegant cursive - written by hand, not printed- and was signed by the prince himself. What differed was that the prince didn't dot every 'i' with hearts, but instead signed off grandly by taking up the lower third of the page. And in what seemed to be liquid gold.

“We received word yesterday that these crates may have been found at a Sweet Apple Acres, and have been stored in the barn there for safe keeping.” The princess returned the order paper back to Vincent with magic. He carefully folded the letter before pocketing it.

Once again, Vincent brought his hand to his heart and bowed. “With the delivery of the letter complete, I am now to organise the collection of the crates. It has been an honour, Princess, farewell.” He turned to depart, his eyes catching a collection of potion books close to the door. That was not what stopped him however.

“Wait!”

He had a hand on the door knob when Pinkie pulled on his short tail, jerking his head up. A deathly pause lingered after. Mechanically he shifted to look over his shoulder and point a blank gaze to the pink mare. Moments before reminding her to keep her hands to herself he faltered upon spotting the wilting ears and concerned stare.

“You haven’t eaten your slice of cake yet.” Her soft words soothed him, cancelling the brief lecture he had in mind. With a huff he realised he couldn’t handle her saddened, piercing stare. “Don’t you want any?” Vincent watched her potent eyes flicker to the tail before they widened. Her grip slipped, her hands retreating to behind her back. She managed a sheepish smile.

Vincent took a moment to bring a hand to his mask, specifically slipping it under the hood before stopping the absurd act of trying to rub the eyes of his mask. A bad habit. He awkwardly retracted his hand and cocked his head to the side as he faced her.

“I had a large breakfast, so I am not in the mood for cake at the moment,” he began with a warm tone. It caused Pinkie’s ears to straighten as she brightened up visibly. “Though I suspect when I’m done I’d like a snack for the train ride home so would I be correct in believing you could save one slice?”

That brought a toothy smile to her now chipper mood. She burrowed her brows and offered a mock salute.

“Yes Sir! I won’t let you down!” He inclined his head.

“Thank you, Miss Pie.” He turned away and opened the door, but was spun back around to face her once again.

“Hey!” Pinkie prodded him in the chest, a mock scowl gracing her features, “I’ll save you a slice but you call me Pinkie Pie from now on, got it?” He raised his hands in his defense and stepped out.

“Deal.” With that he lowered his arms and straightened up. “Until later this evening, Pinkie Pie.” He offered a wave and a tilt of the head, earning an exaggerated mirrored reaction from the fuchsia mare. “And fortune bless you, Princess Twilight.” He bowed as he took a step back, looking up to spot her sitting at the central table.

She stared back at him, shooting uneasy glances between him and the letter. He stopped. Vincent could feel the inquietude in her stare; she knew and more so, judging by the way she consulted the letter before looking to him.

Finally she showed a small smile, the kind of delighted expression reserved for good story endings or pleasant news about somepony, regardless of relation. Yet, as he straightened up and kept his hidden gaze on her, he could see a flicker of something in those eyes. Something he didn’t like to see but would not voice.

“You can find Applejack in the market right about now. Come see me if you need help arranging transport, Ser Knight,” Twilight called back, “Anything to help! If it ends up easy work, why don’t you take a tour of the town?”

He returned a silent, strong nod before turning to depart. Pinkie shut the door and zipped over to the table, in time for Spike to return with a sour expression.

“Twi, I don't care if it's spatially optimu-opti- better, could you please stop moving my kitchenware around?” he complained as he planted the freshly cut cake onto the table. He shook his head as he nabbed a quarter slice in his claw. Before he was about to take a bite he noticed somepony missing. “So where’s the weirdo?” he commented as he scanned the room.

“Spike!” Twilight chided. Her frown was met with a slight wince before the drake piped up.

“Come on Twi, don’t you think there was something a little off about that guy?”

“Yeah!” Pinkie chirped, stealing their attention from where she perched herself on table surface, “I mean, who isn’t ever in the mood for cake?!” She scoffed before poaching her slice and stuffing it into her mouth. She merrily chewed as Spike shot her a deadpanned stare.

“Is that all?” he said dubiously.

“Uhuh,” she replied with a vigorous nod and bulging cheeks. Pinkie gulped hard before licking the sugar frosting from her lips with an audible slurp.

“Nothing strange about… you know… the outfit and the mask?” he prodded further, rolling his free claw.

“Well, yeah, but he seems like a nice stallion, and he’s a real knight! So what?” Pinkie replied with a shrug. Spike worked his jaw, opening and closing it before releasing a defeated sigh and chomping into his cake slice. Twilight chuckled, levitating a slice for herself and rereading the letter.

“I guess if it’s silly but works… no it’s still pretty silly that it actually works,” she mumbled before taking a small bite. With a flash the letter was gone, hidden away in her room.

Author's Note

Thank you to all who like and favourite my story.

Chapter Three

The heavy gaze of the intrigued masses was a thousand times better than that single, potent stare of realisation from the princess.

Without the instinct to move and escape Princess Twilight’s presence gnawing on his nerves he was relaxed. When Princess Twilight looked to him, before she smiled, after she said his name with a trace of familiarity it choked him with dread. He understood. It was akin to finding an old photograph in the attic, heavily dusted and obscured. A sweep of the hand of explanation, which seemed to belong the writer of that letter, Prince Blueblood, and then it clicked as to where she’d heard that name before.

And his face, the few times she saw it.

So she gave him her pity… and then that blasted smile.

He huffed, absentmindedly shaking his head as he tried to forget that look. All the more reason to keep up his appearance, he decided. He switched his train of thought to a new track: his current objective. After all, he did have a job to do.

He could handle a day like this like a walk through the park, or market square if one were to be literal. It was a short detour from his original path, seeing as this slightly uphill street ran parallel to the one before. Aged shops leant in, the hanging signs gently moving like beckoning hands. The stone was old here, from bricks that laid the streets to the slanting buildings that weren’t birthed of timber and thatch. Never the less, though this market was worn it was still lively as ever.

A day like this brought little discomfort, what with the sight of boisterous bartering and tricky trades occurring on stall counters. Not so many eyes fell onto him when ponies were pre-occupied and the world lived so he could watch it instead. He kept an eye out for apple stalls, apple wares, and apples barrels, but couldn't help but be drawn to flora not native to the area.

There were fruits and flowers of all kinds, some he knew of from towns far west and east of the land: Exador’s Bane, a potential sleeping agent if consumed en masse; Balzazar Crest, a crescent shaped fruit of polka dot colouration; Withered Claws were a surprising find, the blackened root had a paralytic side affect on touch-- excellent for pain relief ointment when properly handled. Then there was the humble variety: cherry tomatoes, cucumbers and oranges and the like. The apples came into view further down the path.

The stall was recently repaired. The wood of the banner was lighter than that of the worn stand. These were Sweet Apple Acre apples if the name written was true, and though the immense variety on offer may elude to that, he figured the disappointed little filly behind the stall could verify.

She didn’t see him approach. She would beam pleasantly towards a passer-by only to be shot down by some unheard excuse. She seemed sweet enough, unless she was actually as sour as her faded lemon fur coat. A cute pink bow rested upon her red blossom mane, her eyes would alight with childish enthusiasm, before she rested her chin on her hand with a disheartened look—honestly, what was wrong with these passing ponies?

“Not a single bit since Applejack left to make deliveries…” She certainly held a strong farmer cadence, completing the pouting package he supposed. Behind her he could spot a pyramid of barrels. He was a few steps away before she took a double take at his sight.

Vincent didn’t stare fully back, rather he looked to the stand as her eyes widened and ears flicked up. He learnt it made ponies severely uncomfortable otherwise. Years brought experience and rewarded tricks, after all. She was perhaps an inch or so shorter than Spike. When she took a small step back he spoke.

“Hello, Little Miss.” His friendly timbre did have a little effect of partially removing her uncertain stare. With a tilt of the head he continued, “I’d like to buy an apple.” That earned the desired effect: she smiled.

“Howdy Mister! I gotta say, you can’t just ask for an apple!” she started with zeal, quickly taking on serious facade as she pointed to a few open barrels by her side. “We got dozens to pick from! From Golden Delicious to Grand Delicious! Red Delicious to Roam Delicious!” she finished gesturing to the barrels on her other side. “Deliciousness guaranteed.” They certainly lived up to the surname, the scent was almost beckoning hunger calls from the pit of his stomach.

“Uh… the… green one.” An apple was an apple as far as he was aware, as were oranges were orange. Things considered common flora or fruit were not his specialty. Still, he maintained that pleasant placating tone. “Please.” Rather than have her identify which species, he simply pointed to a middle barrel of three that were filled with emerald fruit.

With a nod she whipped out an apple with her tail before plucking it by the hand and setting it on the table. For a moment he looked between her and the fruit, his gaze lingering on the latter rather than her wide smile. Perhaps it was her potentially unhygienic use of her tail that put many customers off? Regardless, he wasn’t here to actually eat the fruit.

“That’ll be one bit please!”

Vincent’s hand slipped under his coat, sliding along the pockets on his belt. The contents jingled as he shifted, two corked vials popping out into view. His gloved hand disappeared around his back as he spoke.

“Say, are these really from Sweet Apple Acres? I’m new to the village.” His casual inquiry sparked something in the young mare, her chest puffing out and a proud look sprouting on her features.

“Absolutely. Freshly picked this mornin’ and each apple cared and nurtured for by my family who runs the farm.” He planted two bits gently onto the table- one for the apple and the other for a better day- the act causing her brows to bunch in confusion.

“Your family?” Vincent continued before she could speak up, his hand already around the apple. “Must be hard work for you all.” He was wary of his voice, sticking to a pleasant tone. She took her pay and bonus, looking up to him with glee as he put the apple in an outside pocket.

“You bet! Me, my big sister, and my older brother do most of the work. Big Macintosh, my brother, does most of the really hard chores, my sister, Applejack, does the rest.” Vincent spotted her wilting ears and downcast expression easily enough, despite the brevity in its existence. “I… sorta help out where I can, mostly with Granny Smith, my granny, in the house.” She smiled back up to him, notably weaker than previous ones, as she took only one bit, pushing the other back.

“Um, you gave me a little extra, Mister.”

“I know,” he replied with warm amusement as he moved the coin back with one finger. “It’s yours.”

She chuckled before pushing the coin back quickly.

“Nah, it wouldn’t be right for me to take this for nothin’.”

“Little Miss, I insist you keep the change,” Vincent retorted zipping to coin quickly back across the stand surface. She flicked it back.

“No need to make change, besides I didn’t earn it and an Apple earns their bits.” The finality in her statement was reinforced by the crossing of her arms and the turning of her back. Spirited little thing.

‘Strange to see a little one with such a strong integrity.’ He thought whilst folding his own arms, shifting his weight to one side and waiting for her to turn back around. She glanced over her shoulder but only saw his tilted mask. Quickly she looked away from him.

“Apple Bloom, you got a customer to serve.” The interruption came from the corner close by. Her voice was older and bore the same country flare as the little merchant before him.

The Stetson wearing earth pony looked as worn as the hat on her head; athletic, toned, and robust, the mare would qualify as prime specimen of her breed. Fairly attractive, despite the disarrayed straw-blonde ponytail. A piqued brow claimed her features, which were soft enough to draw a pang of recognition when he looked back to ‘Apple Bloom’. She was strong, it showed in her walk and form; the mare was definitely one at home with hard work where muscles could become taught.

“Erm, I was giving him back his change but he wouldn’t take it!” Apple Bloom was quick to point out. Vincent chuckle rumbled as he shook his head, his amusement not lost in his response, now directed to the newcomer.

“It appears the Little Miss here doesn’t know how to take a tip,” he commented with a gesture. Though the pastel orange newcomer looked relieved and smiled, Apple Bloom did not.

“I know what a tip is!” she responded sharply with cute indignation, “And I know I have to do something to earn it!”

“Like being nice and talking to the customer?” he offered, hoping she’d take the bait. She did.

“Yeah… oh.” By now the mare was standing by her side, shifting her weight to one leg and grinning down to the little one. “I still didn’t think I did anythin’ special.” Apple Bloom’s statement was not directed up to him.

“For some that’s all that it takes, Sugar-cube,” the mare responded, ruffling the mane of the little one. She smiled. “That’s why it’s important to always be polite and sincere to yer customers, ya hear?” Her sagely wisdom was met with an understanding nod.

‘If she’s who I believe she is then she is who I need to speak to.’

“Howdy, the name’s Applejack,” the mare stated with a reluctant offer of her hand and a practiced polite smile, “pleasure to meetcha, mister…”

The offer was trap and his hand was snared by a python grip that shook a memory around his skull with the vigour of a babe with a rattle.

“Miss Applejack… name rings a bell, probably a young madam of the Apple clan. The ponies, though fairly common, yield exquisite crops year after year. A farmer’s lineage would do that: waste perfect ingredients in their abysmal cooking skills. Ugh, that snack of hers still haunts my royal taste buds years on. I wonder if the Element of Honesty would own up to such a fact.”

Another Element of Harmony then?

“Ser Vincent.” Fortunately, his gentle voice hid his discomfort as well as the mask hid his grimace at how strong the grip of this mare was. He’d wager she could crush gems in one hand. He saw her ear twitch beneath her hat as his hand slithered out of her grasp, retreating safely to his side as his other hand whipped out the Princes’ scroll. “Of the Solaris Knights, and I believe we may have business.”

He noticed the trio of red apples pictured on her hip, the stillness of her tail drawing his attention back up to spot her blinking eyes.

“A knight?” Clarity claimed her expression as she unfurled the scroll, lowering the brim of her hat to block out the sun. “That’s one fancy smancy signature,” she muttered before looking up to him. “Yeah, we brought ‘em back to the farm like Twi wanted—if yer wanna know where we got them in the first place, then they were kind of stacked up near Fluttershy’s place.” With an uneasy scratch of the head, her unfocused, almost scared stare falling to the side, she added, “Not too far in the… Everfree Forest.”

He was worried. Though he was capable of making others comfortable, or the very least curious, with him being heavily garbed and masked (not an easy thing to learn as the past taught him), he was concerned that she was starting to get uncomfortable with his presence. Not too uncommon, even after validating his knighthood, but a problem all the same. A good enough reason as any to not linger in another’s company for too long.

“Are you okay?” His concern shook her out of it, a sheepish grin emerging on her muzzle. It greatly helped pronounce her freckles.

“Yeah, er, sorry.” A quick and awkward rub of the back of the neck and then she continued, “The forest outside of town gives everyone the willies.” Before he could inquire she took on a look of unnease, biting her lip, flexing the digits of her free hand and swishing her tail.

“About where these crates are now…” she trailed off, offering a nervous chuckle. She could tell the gradual tilt of his head was because she couldn’t see his raised eyebrow. Applejack returned the official document back to him. “See, we stored them in the barn, but between when Twi sent the letter and when you got here, um, Ser Knight, we had to move them.”

“Oh?” He drawled with heavy curiosity and his head still askew. His annoyance was perhaps symptoms of the slowly growing state of fatigue, kept at bay by the thought of progressing through an easy retrieval mission. The dam had a crack and sleep would seep in, but not for a while.

“You see, they were safe in the barn but then…” Applejack’s face shifted to point a fierce, sisterly stare towards Apple Bloom. Though must would assume otherwise, his field of vision was rather fine, peripheral vision only slightly cut off. It was with this that he spotted an uncannily sheepish grin sprouting on Apple Bloom, mirroring her sister's own.

His blank stare shifted, cold and emotionless as it bore towards the child. It was all she could see and her ears wilted as she felt a sense of impending judgement strike her heart. Retribution from a calculated study. She knew what a knight was, everypony knew what a knight was. Heroes, beating up bad guys and helping out folk, large and small! They were big to fight monsters, which he was, strong enough to tackle storms, which he looked, and friendly enough to charm worms out of apples! Which he sounded -- had been -- but…

That mask. Lightly cracked. The scorched gloves that sometimes flexed oddly, the burnt armour beneath a bitten coat. Now that she believed she was in trouble she really didn’t like the look of it all.

Of course, Vincent hardly held anything against kids. In fact he was simply waiting placidly on an explanation. He had a soft spot, most knights did.

“This one and her pals thought they would take a peak, wound up nearly lancing Big Mac with a spear.” Applejack crossed her arms over her chest, ending with a sigh. “Caught him putting on a helmet later.”

“Is that so?” Vincent replied coolly, arms folding behind his back. “I trust everything was returned to their rightful place?” he turned his head to face the older sister, Apple Bloom releasing a breath she didn’t know she held.

“You bet. In the end, we wound up moving them all to the town hall.” Applejack finished.

“Is that far?” He turned away, glancing past onlookers looking back. He hadn’t planned a route from the market to town hall, only looking up street names and a set path from the train station to the library to the farm.

“No.”

“Well then I’ll be off,” Vincent started, before facing Apple Bloom once more. He knelt, closer to the stand and coming to eye level. Not that she could see his. He then regained that warm voice, yet, it always seemed as if he’d never lost it. “But I think an apology from the young offender would settle the matter.” That perked Apple Bloom up, confusing her even. Without hesitation, she responded with guilt sprinkled into her tone.

“I’m sorry that me and my friends opened up those crates Mister Vincent, we just wanted to know what was inside and then kind of got carried away,” she admitted, rubbing her arm. He raised his primary finger on the clean, gloved hand.

“Ser Vincent.” He correct, holding the finger in the air close to the mask.

“Sorry Mister Ser Vincent.” She heard a soft rumble come from beneath the mask, it’s sideways swaying indicating he found something funny. As did Applejack judging from her snort.

“Apology accepted, Miss Apple Bloom.” He punctuated his reply by bringing his finger down hard on the stall, and when she peered down, she found it had pinned the extra bit to the surface. “Now then,” he said with a smile in his voice, “Take this and treat yourself when you can, and remember, curiosity killed the cat. You could have got into a lot of trouble."

He slid the bit across before rising up, glancing back as he departed to spot her smiling broadly at the bit.

“Bye! Thanks for yer service!” she called and waved. He lifted a hand and waved back, looking to the front to spot Applejack walking beside him.

“Reckon somepony who doesn’t know how far town hall is ain’t from around here nor has a clue how to get there.” She said simply, flicking her hat back up to smile gratuitously to him. “That was a mighty fine thing yer did, Sugar-cube. See, Apple Bloom has some trouble selling, tries too hard, but needs to learn to ease up. She’ll get there, an Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.”

“Nice to see sibling bonds are as strong as ever wherever I go.” Vincent replied, earning an arched brow. “Only child, you see. Sometimes I’m jealous.”

“It ain’t easy.”

“Thank you for being my guide by the way, I thought you were going to be busy helping Apple Bloom or making more deliveries. Sorry to take up your time.” His apology was met with a scoff and a hand wave.

“Anytime, she can handle the stall for a few more minutes and I’m done with my rounds. It’s the least I can do.” She then made the obvious motion of studying him, as if she had only just realised he was heavily garbed. The gesture was in good humour, of course. “And I thought knights wore big, bulking armour that shone like platinum; you’re pretty far in the opposite direction if you don’t mind me saying, just thinking about the Canterlot Guards is all.”

Vincent shrugged, intentionally making his scale-plated armour shudder audibly. It was true, actually, that Solaris Knights did get a flashy set of armour. Even he still had his set. Some found alternatives that fit them better was all. So long as the right papers were signed and a knight had proper authorisation, then command had no qualms.

“Didn’t thinks masks were a part of the uniform either.”

“I get that a lot.”

Chapter Five

Canterlot Mountain held its splendorous city out on a marble foundation, as one would offer an audience a sight of small exquisite ivory art, held in the palm. And rightfully so, for Canterlot city was the heart of the Equestrian kingdom, beating with culture, bleeding with diverse arts, praised for its alicorn magics, and a millennium forged prestige that seeped into the very stone nobles would walk on. Gold adorned every building, gilding and flowing freely like the fresh waters running from the mountain top.

But on the body of the mountain were other marble constructs. Vincent would stand and watch, close but not drawing too much of the spotlight. There was an old villa, the white stone recently starting to crack despite attempts of refurbishment, settled neatly into the mountain face. A garden stretched from the steps to the cliff face, bright and lush, an abundant in tall flora. A main path lead to the dock staircase, diverting to lead to the entrance to the establishment. The decorative gates were new, contrasting the old walls fencing the entire area.

Vincent found himself on duty as the prince’s personal guard, at one of those frivolous events celebrating the completion of some noble’s (Sugar Shift, owner of a leading sugar transportation company) personal air yacht. Yes, that alone was tiresome, but there were plenty of reasons as to why today was to be interesting.

The dock, if one must be insultingly humble about their current location, held a prestigious heritage. It was the first, an entire side of the mountain reserved for royal airships or perhaps exceptional members of society dedicated to helping Princess Celestia’s subjects thrive. Very exclusive, historically iconic due to launching the first airship, and offered a rather splendid view of eastern valley.

Save for the last part, the rest was trivial exposition to Vincent.

Later in the day, the prince would attend a favourite opera of his, Knight lost, Lady found, at the royal opera house. An excellent performance. There was less to worry about in the private royal booth from which the prince would enjoy the show, given that anyplace frequented by rulers had the tightest security known to ponykind.

As for the here and now?

The dock itself was simple, but large; the steps descended to a viewing platform currently fit to occupy a small soiree. An extravagant lilac ship floated by, anchored to the lower platform where guests were filing back up the stairs, gazes locked on two of Canterlot’s most popular stars. Prince Blueblood lead his entourage, a stallion who swooned mares from afar (and irritated up close), funded numerous charities (after the dramatic dilemma of keeping coin versus his moral compass, a quickly resolved matter), and was of course a royal bachelor. His word could be law, his demeanour walking the thin line between entitled noble gentlestallion and respected tantrum thrower.

Vincent did have a different opinion of His Majesty than others, and the prince knew it. It’s why they were close, why Vincent was the one to safe guard him. Vincent owed him that much and more.

As for the other…

She certainly knew how to entertain a crowd of Canternites as they flocked around her, an impossible task in and of itself. Yet she pulled it off with every gracious smile, polite curtsy, stylish accessory, and self-tailored dress to grace her form. A gem unearthed in the greatest city in the world, bringing tittered laughs and sparkling conversation.

Miss Rarity Belle, the ivory and midnight-purple unicorn that slapped cake in his lord’s face.

He was beside the table that Blueblood would be seated at in the shade of tree. He had leant over the railing, one gloved hand on the rough marble surface if he needed to spring over to intercept somepony from reaching the prince. He was fully garbed, as per usual, his masked stare lingering on anypony who stared back. This was his first sighting of the lady. Word travelled and he took note of the baggage it brought was not the same as what Vincent had heard. Shrill harpy criticising all? Charming silver-tongued fashionista. Bit-grabbing succubus? Element of Generosity, reportedly attending only charity events. Bog-stenched and fungal faced?

Oh, she was fair and beautiful—no stallion, or mare, would deny—and looked as if she could have stepped out of the stone that made Canterlot the jewel of Equestria. Purest of whites clothed in a frilly yellow dress, patterned and pressed in a grand design lost to his mind and tongue, but made all the more gorgeous as her voluptuous form was framed by the sunlight. The incorporation of red ribbons drew the eye to her back and neck, in turn the regal coiffure of hers that arched gracefully over the side of her face, and tailed over the opposing shoulder.

And the prince flubbed up a chance with her? Vincent shook his head. Nothing new in regards to what Blueblood expected of a dame after his eye, and from what the knight knew of the gala, she was more than the prince could handle. Heck, the vile rumours he heard of Miss Rarity was but a speck compared to the glowing praises he heard elsewhere. He simply never dismissed anything before a first encounter.

He turned his attention back to his charge, who had finished shaking hands with another noble before heading directly to his table, his pleasant visage dropping to an exhausted eye roll. He never spared expenses in appearance; he was groomed with a golden coif, his horn waxed, and his white tuxedo tailored by the finest hands with the finest silk. Polished like the marble of the castle halls and handsomely sculpted by the divine craftsmanship of the Fates, he was. Most Canternites were extravagant and the prince lead the herd in that department.

With the careful motions of a stalking insect, Vincent’s hand drew into his inner breast pocket and dragged out a sliver flask. The crimson contents were then carefully poured into an awaiting crystal glass on the table, Vincent never having looked directly to it. He scanned the social gathering for any approaching servants or spying eyes.

It was disrespectful to drink your own beverage on such an occasion, but Vincent knew the prince would need familiar taste to settle his mood. And quite frankly, Sugar Shift had an abysmal wine selection. So to protect the pride of both parties, he was swift to put away the flask before anyone noticed.

The prince arrived with a weary shake of the head, a look of disgust pointed to a stain on his horseshoe.

“My auntie blesses Mr. Shift with a glorious evening and he can’t even manage to tend the garden to prevent mud from staining her nephew’s platinum shoes!” He huffed with indignation, looking to Vincent with perplexed disbelief. “How, during a heat wave, does he manage to do that?!” he hissed.

“What a mystery.” Ser Vincent replied with a tone of indifference, tilting his head and tapping the base of the wine glass. “So soiled shoes spark this foul mood. I must say Your Highness, this is not like you.”

Blueblood raised a brow as Vincent gazed up through the crown of the tree, humming before looking back.

“Though in hindsight, it could have been in the realm of possibility.”

“Please, Vincent, you can directly address me by the title of Prince Blueblood,” he replied, grinning and lifting the glass to his lips. “We’ve known each other long enough, surely… hence why I don’t reprimand your remarks as I should.”

As he began to drink, shuddering at the pleasant taste, his guard folded his arms.

“Then forgive me, Prince Blueblood, for not believing your complaint about mud being sincere nor honest.” The prince eyed him over the rim of the glass, charming blue eyes meeting Vincent’s beneath the mask and hood. Vincent never had much to hide from the prince, and he had absolute trust in the stallion. Finally, Blueblood lowered the glass to the table, no longer appearing as tense as a cornered albino python. With a sigh, Prince Blueblood glanced between Vincent and the guests, careful to not reveal the stained wine glass.

Vincent could easily spot the problem. She was spouting liquid gold for the guests to relish in, all eyes on her and wishing to be with the type of pony everypony should know. He shifted his gaze to the prince as he looked back.

“I wished she never returned,” he spat harshly, swirling the wine in the glass.

Vincent ignored him, fully aware of what transpired at that infamous gala. And, despite His Majesty’s persistent recount of the event, managed to uncover what exactly had occurred. As much as he trusted the prince he knew the stallion was prideful and so undertook small investigation of his own. It was not difficult to come to the unsurprising conclusion. He instead returned his gaze to Rarity and noted something peculiar.

“Is it me, or is she trying to… leave?”

Even from here he could spot the strain in her smile. She shuffled due to lack of space, joking and laughing, migrating towards the gate, across the grass. She had the others so wrapped around her finger she was leading them off path and to the exit of an event a royal was attending.

She needed out. And fast.

“Wonderful!” The prince chirped, a beaming grin gracing his features. “Oh, the Fates are finally kind to me. You should hear the drivel these plebs come up with just to earn my attention-“

“I regularly do.”

“-but for them to both curry favours for me and Rarity is downright taxing. If not for announcing this brief interlude, I don’t know how much longer I could have lasted!” He finished in wide-eyed terror, three-digit hand on heart. He downed the remainder of the drink whilst Vincent remained silent.

The prince practically thrived on attention but died when he had to share it. Meanwhile, Miss Rarity had bid enough adieus to make the word sound estranged, and grinded to a halt. She was still trying to leave, but politeness and high society was ever so demanding. Vincent couldn’t help but sympathise.

“Would you like for me to escort her off the grounds, allowing you to return to mingling whilst I organise her transport?” The relieved smile of the prince reached his perked ears. He rested a hand onto Vincent’s shoulder.

“I would, Ser Vincent, indeed I would.” He placed the now empty glass back onto the table before turning to take a seat, waving over to a now-surprised servant handing out refreshments. “Thank you for your service and then some.” Vincent nodded before striding past, making a bee line for the group.

Quite frankly, Blueblood was handling this entire affair with the etiquette of a pouting child. Most mares would be put off by his behaviour that night, and wander off in disappointment. The fact that this mare not only stood up to him, but pointed out how terrible of gentlestallion he had been, made her a legend in the halls of Canterlot Castle. Personally, Vincent held both an ounce of respect and resentment to how Miss Rarity handled the situation.

Of course, had he’d been there his intervention would have been swift.

His steps were not to hide his presence; the rustle of felling grass beneath his polished boots tipped off the swivelling ears of those closest. They turned to face him, eyes widening, mouths slackening, monocles leaping, before parting with hushed whispers.

“It’s him!”

“Ser Vincent?”

“He moves?!”

“Don’t get in the way or he’ll strike you where you stand, Claude!”

The comments were easily shrugged off, like the needles of the were-porcupine, and in fact, he revelled in the knowledge that he was both respected and feared. The former helped, he preferred being civil… but the latter was certainly a reserved bonus. The small crowd quickly took notice and he was granted a view of Miss Rarity from behind when they parted, her tail stylishly curled. When the guests fell silent, after the quick intakes of air, she seemed to notice all eyes were on something behind her. Mainly him.

She spun around, her eyes level with his shoulder. They shrunk as she gazed up to him and he looked down on her. She did after all throw cake in the face of the prince. Delicate features of angelic proportions graced her, from the pert muzzle to the sapphire eyes, all twisted to relay her startled expression. He wasn’t here to reprimand her actions, nor compliment her bravery months ago, but rather to kindly offer a way out.

“Oh my,” she managed almost breathless. She quickly cleared her throat, eyeing those around her for support. It was long established one didn’t intervene when Vincent, Prince Blueblood’s right hand knight, arrived. “Can I help you, darling?” She was back to polite smiles and dazzling demeanour.

“Can I help you, Miss Rarity?” Vincent inquired as he held the parasol out.

“My word, Ser Vincent!” Miss Rarity chimed, trotting over as gracefully as her dress would allow. She wore a similar attire to what she had before; it was blonde hued, dancing between white and gold in the light, and was fastened around the waist by a striking indigo buckle-belt. She could still shoot a perfect smile. “Whatever brings you to this neck of the woods? Do knights truly appear before distressed damsels or have I read one too many novels?”

He huffed in amusement as she giggled, pausing to pamper her mane. In all the years he had known the prince, Vincent doubted he could never have made a bigger blunder than not making an effort at the gala.

“Duty, unfortunately.” His simple reply earned a small scoff as he returned her accessory. Her magic was regal blue, wisps of cyan dancing around the handle and her filed horn. She rested the parasol on her shoulder, casting a shadow upon her alabaster fur. Her smirk faltered as her eyes studied him, his masked gaze noting how she was idly spinning her summer brolly.

“Dear me, whatever happened to you?” she inquired, concerned lapis eyes locking onto the scars in his attire. She bit her lip and shook her head, tutting as she reached out to hold up his sliced lapel.

“Duty… unfortunately.” Rarity could feel the smirk in his voice, generating a small grin of her own. She was about to give the large bite mark on his shoulder a thorough inspection when his hand gently pushed hers away, leaving her a little self-conscious. “Sorry Miss Rarity, but I’ve been dealing with ponies invading my space all morning, particularly from Miss Dash and Miss Pi – I mean, Pinkie Pie.”

“Ah.” Her flat reply revealed how much she understood easily enough, if her gentle smile hadn’t conveyed that already. “Say no more, I’ll leave you to recover.” She stepped back, the parasol spinning on her bare shoulder at a slower speed. “If you’d like I can patch up your attire, if you’re not too busy doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

The invitation was warm, and had these just been duds cobbled together then perhaps he may—and he couldn’t stress any more—may have considered it. But that would involve staying in contact longer than necessary, which will likely lead to him having to explain his attire. And why he really needed it. Not that he would honestly say. Still left him uncomfortable.

“It’s not simple hardened cloth,” he replied as he raised the scorched glove to stroke the clawed lapel, “I had it soaked in a resin to make it flame retardant, top tier stuff.” That sparked an interest in her eyes.

“Alchemy attuned? Not enchanted?” she asked with a ponderous tilt of the head, “Mind you, for non-unicorns it is a worthwhile investment at the cost of the diversity of spells compared to enchantments through unicorns. Longer life span and stronger potency too if I’m not mistaken, then again I so rarely enchant my fabrics and dresses beyond refitting and seaming.”

‘Well colour me impressed.’ If impressed was the colour green he’d be the visual embodiment of the sentiment, as is, he could only jerk his head back as if being taken by surprised. He had a… different way of displaying that emotion.

“That’s correct, Miss Rarity. A long life span is rather crucial when out and about.”

“I’ll bet,” she laughed musically. She then tilted her head once more, eyes subtly scanning past his shoulders. He could never forget: ponies were staring. “So what really brings you to Ponyville, Ser Vincent?”

“A few crates of arms and armour went missing. Four were moved to the town hall but five were reported, I’m off to retrieve the fifth now.” He moved his gaze away from her for a moment and settled on the curb.

Rarity was then subjected to strange ticking noise of sorts, leaving her blinking in confusion. He brought a hand to his chin by which point she heard the faintest of mutterings. That’s when it occurred to her that he was making those wet clicking with his mouth – he was thinking.

“Fluffersky?” The first thing he said that was audible and it made no sense. “Flubbersty?” With a perked brow she spoke.

“Dear, is something the matter?” To her surprise his masked stare shifted sharply back to her, a pregnant pause in its wake. And just there, if she looked hard enough, there was the faintest glow of gold beneath the hood, dying out as he replied with dignity bolstering his voice.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Rarity, it’s been a long few days so I tend to let slip my thoughts from time to time by this point. Still, it doesn’t excuse me.” He inclined his head but Rarity still waved him off with a knowing grin.

“Oh come now, even I’ve been victim of the effects constantly working brings. Fortunately I have a cure to keep the wrinkles at bay: a day to myself at the spa!” Vincent noted how her eyes glazed over with a dreamy expression, a sigh of admiration and adoration escaping her unlady-like, slouching form. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“To each their own,” he replied, not even considering asking for further details. Ever.

“What is that you are having trouble with, Ser Vincent?”

“Actually I’m having difficulty recalling who first found the crates,” he started, before realisation managed to squeeze a small groan from him, “but I don’t know where I can find them because it never occurred to me to ask.” He rested his hand along the snout of his mask and shook his head. Really? Such a recruit error. This was definitely going to be the last mission all weekend.

“Well, who are you attempting to find? I may be able to help, it is a small town and most wind up in my boutique or the spa sooner or later—I know practically nearly everyone.” She offered with a shrug. It was certainly generous of her, but it was the name itself that was the problem.

“Something along the lines of… Fluttershine…”

“Fluttershy!” Her exclamation was cheery but with grace, her smile seemingly broadening. “Marvellous! I did wonder what she and Applejack were up to a few days back. I take you’ll need an escort?” He only nodded before she clapped her hands together. “Well, shall we be off?” She added as she strutted past.

“Miss Rarity, you don’t have to, I only need a few directions.” He replied whilst stepping to follow behind. Ponies were giving her a wide berth as if she had her own protective bubble they dare not stain. She was a few steps ahead and cast a coy look over her shoulder.

“I know, but my dear Opalescence is under Fluttershy’s care, poor little thing had taken ill, and I can’t bear to be away for any longer.” She continued her stroll, Vincent not far behind. “Besides, I recall you doing something similar a year ago at Sugar Shift’s soiree. I’d like to thank you for looking out for my sake back then. Come along now!”

With no other choice Ser Vincent marched behind her, weary step after weary step. He’d instantaneously noticed something about the crowd, however; they parted for her. Not as in to avoid collision, but rather to form a barrier around her as found in snow globes and their contents. All greeted her with kindness, some stallions looking back to ogle her primed and curled tail. That was when Vincent would walk past. The crowd’s attention quickly being drawn to him and with admiration turning to shock and nervous eye-to-mask contact.

It carried on this way until they reached the outskirts of town, a comfortable silence due to the distance between the two. Pebbled pavements gave way to rural paths, branching out to tamed grassy areas, reserved for the park and a few extravagant shops and housing. He certainly spotted a few places worthy of sightseeing, offering a good view of the town.

'Maybe… if I find the time…' A good hobby of his was to find a sight worth revisting – travel was an unavoidable part of a knight’s occupation, so why not have a reason to look forward to revisits? If not the ponies then the place? His thoughts were drawn to Miss Rarity when she slowed to match his pace, coming alongside him.

“I imagine your attire is less conspicuous in any other location save town squares, but I can’t fathom as to why it’s so… excessive.” She commented, cocking her head away to look up to him with gentle smile. “I recall you wore the same outfit at that party, I’m curious, do you attend all social events like this?”

“Yes.” He said simply, dampening her expression.

“All of them? Surely you jest.” She laughed him off, but when he slowly craned his head to face her, he saw her smile did not meet her eyes. When she stopped they then widened, as if some eldritch abomination had been walking alongside her all along. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m there to protect the prince, not look pretty.” He replied, albeit more curtly than he intended. Other than the increase in rotation to her parasol, the downward flicker of her ear, she still look as if he had admitted to kicking puppies for fun.

“But what do you wear when you’re not protecting the prince? When you’re off-duty?” He gave a jingling shrug.

“Nothing too impressive I assure you.” He turned back, an errant thought crossing his mind: what kind of pony chose to pursue fashion? “Mostly the less armoured version of this- Miss Rarity?” To his surprise, the mare was balking at him, eye twitching.

A tailor could make clothes for the harshest of winter, for certain, but who decided that stylising, trimming, and stitching cloth in a certain way was to bear the image of that era? Art, it seemed, came in all varieties. Paintings always had three artists; the painter to capture an image of the pony; the architect to house the pony in their social standing; the fashionista to show how important that pony was. All caught in one image.

What would one make of a knight in a less than majestic, heroic outfit? Ponies were naturally unclothed so why was it important for knights to wear anything in the first place when off-duty?

“You wander around Canterlot like that?” she finally said, shaking as she approached.

“Wandering implies I’m lost or without direction—I assure you I know every inch of Canterlot and make quick trips to wherever I go when necessary.” Vincent’s mask followed her as she sauntered past, shaking her head as if what he had said was truly incomprehensible.

“Will you at least allow me to fix your coat?” she asked (or pleaded, the jury was out) over her shoulder, “A simple spell would have you right as rain, your mask also.”

Vincent brought his gloved hand to his muzzle, trailing down the hairline crack that reached from between his eyes down to the lip. His primary finger lightly tapped the snout; his mask, though metallic, was thin – a solid thump from a beast might be enough to shatter his frontline defense if he was careless enough. He lowered his gloved hand, his sight trailing it down as it flaked and peeled in the air little by little. Perhaps a touch up wouldn’t be so bad.

“I have spares,” he stated, balling his hand as he looked back up to her, “And though not cheap I can always replenish stocks. It’s not necessary.” He strolled up to her, extending a hand past her. “Your consideration warms me, but please… I’m on duty. First and foremost.” She sighed before nodding.

“Of course, this way.” The disappointment was evident in her tone and her features, from the small pout, the wilt of her ears, and faintest of whines. He rubbed the back of his hood as she gazed forward, a modicum of regret nestling in his gut. He wouldn’t change his mind.

“If you’re worried about me catching a glimpse, don’t worry, I pride myself on being professional,” she continued as she lead them across the bridge, looking up to him. “I do have a changing room if you wish to keep up that mystery you shroud yourself in.” Looking to her, he noted the playful smile tugging at her lips.

“That mystery does not have an appealing answer, Miss Rarity.” His voice was soft, touching a melancholic brand of acceptance. “You can say I wear this because it does make me easier on the eyes… and nerves.”

“Oh, I see…” Rarity replied with realisation lightly laced in her tone, the spinning parasol almost stopping. So his appearance was damaged to such an extent? Where all this dress was deemed important to get by? Pitiful, yes, but he clearly functioned, clearly lived. She frowned as her summer umbrella regained speed—surely this was not a self-confidence issue?

“I don’t see why that affects my offer, Ser knight, honestly.” She commented with a shrug and a practised smirk. “I have been working in fashion long enough to learn how to treat all my customer’s needs, and I can certainly handle not peeking when I return your repaired tenue.” Her Prench accent was a little strong, he noted. She turned away, tilting her head up and obscuring his view with a careful manoeuvre of her brolly.

“There’s no need to wound me so, hmph!”

Vincent lowered his head, reaching up to massage his eyes before quickly cancelling the motion. With an amused huff he regarded her with a tilted head.

‘Face of Equestria’s finest.’

“If you spare me the theatrics… and promise absolute privacy… then maybe before I leave and after I return to Pinkie Pie, then I shall book and appointment.” She quickly revealed herself, dazzling eyes and a sly smile pointed at him.

“Don’t take too long now, I’d hate to have my image of knight’s shattered by one keeping a lady waiting.” She tittered. Quite frankly, it was going to take as long as it takes, her say or otherwise, to find these crates. The unicorn then regarded him with a questioning glance. “I hope you don’t mind me prodding further but what business do you have with Pinkie?”

He simply shrugged, his voice a warm delight.

“She has cake.”

Author's Note

Remember folks, likes, favourite, and comments are all great votes of confidences as well as opportunities to voice your likes and dislikes! Thank you to all who have read so far!

Chapter Six

The environments a knight would find themselves in varied greatly. From deserts of scorching sands to ice-capped mountains in northern tundra; the densest of jungles to the widest of open valleys; a knight had to learn what roamed in each and everything between, and what plants grew to thrive in these conditions.

Vincent had suffered the darkest of caves, rolled amongst giant protoplasmic entities and flesh-peeling vines, before barrelling out into the most enchanting of forests to house a rainbow pallet of healing flora and gracious white antelopes of peace. Rather the misnomer, not because of the animals own behaviour, the creatures were a delight, but because they just weren’t actually attuned to how savage their surroundings could be. It was more of symbolic name given by locals, mostly for how placid they were amongst others.

Despite this, when one cantered past— one hundred miles from its natural habitat—Vincent couldn’t help but continue to marvel at his current surroundings.

The white buck hopped along merrily, golden antlers shimmering in the light, and bound down the dirt path shaded by outstretching branches sprouting lush leaves. More animals scurried to and fro between the thin trees, playing and racing, chattering and chasing. Bird houses were on offer and often filled with a large variety of species, burrows had been built beside the path and some were reinforced with wide pipes. Not all animals were native, and as he walked beside Rarity he couldn’t help but find the spectacle mesmerising. Maybe he’d come back here?

“Now, there’s something you should know about Fluttershy,” Rarity began as they reached the end of the path, bushes and thick canopy obscuring anything beyond. She looked to him with a tactful eye, one of kind consideration, “You see, she’s rather… well, shy to cut it with Occam’s razor, so please take no offense if she behaves rather reserved in your presence.” Vincent turned away from the family of bunnies curious about him and saw the gentle smile on her lips.

“I always try to be brief and friendly, Miss Rarity, I’d hate to make her uncomfortable.” He replied with that warm tone of his. Not a lie, but not necessary the full truth. He’d stay for as long as he needed in order to be thorough and methodical and to ensure a mission was completed, his disposition was his choice; a mission was prioritised over another's sense of ease. He was simply considerate and worked efficiently.

“Oh, absolutely not, Ser Vincent,” Rarity replied sincerely whilst daintily touching his elbow, “Whilst here in your company you haven’t once made me feel uneasy.” His elbow lightly moved against her hand, resulting in its retreat. She didn’t seem to notice. “But… I can’t help but recall how we first met, dear, and…” Rarity nibbled her lip and glanced to the opening ahead before turning back. “At first glance you are rather imposing, darling.” She finished as she manually took hold of her parasol from her magical grasp. She still rested it against her shoulder, slowing spinning it.

“You’re a rather considerate gentlestallion so I hope you wouldn’t mind if you let me introduced you first, to warm her up so to speak.” The blank gaze of the mask was locked onto her: twitching ears, spinning brolly, and a flickering tail, a combination of mannerisms and features he’d label as light worry. The kind smile and sparkling gaze of reason? She was sincere.

He nodded, once again in an exaggerated fashion.

“Of course.” Reading ponies was not something he opted to specialise in, more something one learnt as the rewards of time. Expressions were read in Canterlot all the time, for tricksters and saints. Mannerisms came from crooks with something to hide or an innocent with guilty thoughts. “And there’s no need to be so reserve.” He added in case she thought he was offended. “I’ll leave it all to you, and I’ll leave Miss Fluttershy when I learn where she found those crates.”

Saying the name himself brought another recent memory.

‘Miss Fluttershy, the Element of kindness. Other than that? I can’t tell you much; she disappeared from everypony’s sight, guards included, and returned as herald of the Royal Garden revolt, where she lead every animal under auntie’s sun into a frenzy inside the ballroom. Tables upturned, dresses savaged by the teeth of exotic fauna, stains one dares not recall—she struck the final blow that finally killed the evening.

No. I doubt that this was not intentional.’

It was with Blueblood’s final words for the Elements of Harmony that they reached the end of the shaded path. They stepped out into the opening just as a flock of blue, red, and green jays flew across a small bridge that lay ahead. The old stone was moss ridden, spanning a small stream wherein otters lounged, and lead to cottage. Though it can hardly be recognised as such.

The grass had hugged the base of the walls, shrubs and ivory holding the building in place for fear of it abandoning the ground, and what of the yellowed timber could be seen was capped by a living rooftop. Rugged with lush greenery, the cottage seemed to have grown its own hilltop hat, the illusion broken by the wide ocular windows and brickwork chimney. The entire thing was riddled with birdhouses and burrows, and as the pair walked to the foot of the bridge, Vincent noted that not one tree was without a nest.

“I’m sure if you keep up your warm demeanour she should take a liking to you,” Rarity commented with a small smirk, “Just no sudden movements.” She giggled, the skirt of her dress stroking the bright flower bed along the path.

“Miss Rarity, what exactly is Miss Fluttershy’s job?” Vincent inquired, watching the white antelope bound by, a merry smile plastered on its muzzle, despite the bandage covering one eye.

“Oh, well she’s— ” She came to halt before the door, her spinning parasol suddenly picking up speed as she turned to face him with a playful smile. “You can ask her yourself, I’m certain speaking about her animal friends will help comfort her.” She turned to daintily rap against the wood of the door, Vincent trailing behind with a shake of the head. Locks and tumblers were heard before a small creak accompanied the door opening inch by inch.

A light-rose strand fell through the gap, slowly revealing itself to be a framing lock of mane for a butter-yellow face. What little was revealed, anyhow; Vincent could only spot a petite muzzle offering a pleasant smile.

“Hello, Rarity, this is a surprise-- but, um, a very nice one.” He’d wager her voice was on par with clouds in terms of softness, her words warm like a mother’s touch. More of her face poked out, her caring smile complimented by her calm teal eyes.

“Good afternoon Fluttershy, it’s nice to see you too,” Rarity began friendly enough, though less reserved by comparison to Miss Fluttershy, “How’s my little princess doing?” Vincent couldn’t see her face due to standing behind her but he could hear the concern in her tone. She magicked the parasol off her shoulder, letting it hover by her side as she took a delicate yellow hand into her own. “Please tell me that she’s alright.”

He felt the small whimper at the end was rather melodramatic, but who was he to challenge how much love one could have for their pets?

“Opal’s making a fast recover, you shouldn’t worry! She’ll be fine after another night’s rest.” So Miss Fluttershy was a veterinarian of sorts? Handling sick animals? Vincent glanced around, his sight caught on the ivory buck peering hard into the grassy roof with his good eye. Guessed it made sense. He was about to follow its gaze when Miss Fluttershy raised her voice… to regular volume as she ‘called’ into her abode.

“Opal! How are you feeling?” A long, sickened meow echoed from within. “Oh no, do you need more medicine?! Do want more fish?”

A much more delighted cat call came from within.

“Oh Opalescence, momma’s here to look after you too! You’ll be back home soon enough!” Rarity chirped, leaning into the half opened door.

An even longer, sicker meow echoed from within.

By this point, the buck snorted and backed away with its antlers lowered. Vincent, having spotted the sign of a wary beast countless times moved slowly away from it, but noted something peculiar. White antelope of peace do not retreat before charging, in fact, they rarely charge at all. It would stand its ground if it could, meaning that something was beyond its defencing capability. Large bird of prey were common predators of the antelope, striking from above.

“Miss Rarity,” Vincent began, missing a startled squeak whilst looking between the antelope and her, “I think you should step inside for a moment.” His tone, though calm, was curt. It was less of a recommendation and more of an order. He’d seen what had scared the antelope and had quickly blasted himself for believing it to be a long, thick drainage pipe.

It was not.

“I can’t just charge in, Ser Vincent,” Rarity replied with surprise in her voice, turning back to him. She saw him starting to quickly look between her and a spot above her head, but paid no mind to it. “It’s not exactly polite.”

Miss Fluttershy, still as of yet to reveal herself, edged further out--

“Rarity!” Vincent startled the well-dressed mare when he firmly gripped her arm and snatched her towards himself. She yelped as she was quickly drawn to him. Before Rarity knew it she was held in his padded embrace, bewildered, and a look of shock on her face as it was pressed against his form.

“Ser Vincent?!” She cried, pushing away to look up with wide-eyed flabbergast, “What is the meaning of this!?”

Thump!

Her attention snapped to the source of the heavy thud, her pupils quickly shrinking as she stared in mute horror.

A thick, reptilian body slipped from the roof edge, burying a wide and triangular head. The large serpentine body coiled around and around and around right until the tail of the brown spotted, black constrictor slumped on top of the pile. Sluggishly, and with a pained look in its slit eyes, the head of the snake wobbled over the top from within its own knee high coil. With a shrill shriek of blind terror, Miss Rarity leapt into Ser Vincent’s arms, his instincts and a good measure of luck catching her as she continued to wail.

‘The lungs on this mare!’ He was surprised that he could even hear his own thoughts.

“Snake! Fluttershy, there’s a snake! Aaaargh!” Her arms were around his neck for support and when she decided to tighten her grip it brought Vincent uncomfortably closer to the buxom mare.

“Mr Yig Jr.! Just what do you think you’re doing out of bed?” Both Rarity and Vincent looked at the bizarre sight before them, the former’s fearful stare shifting to perplex and the latter tilting his head.

She was a slim, dainty creature. The pegasus was handling the snake as a concern mother would handle their child, and quite frankly the description fit. Her long-sleeved jumper loosely fit her lithe form, her wings neatly folded on her back as she bent over, stern faced, and told off the now ashamed snake.

Admittedly she was… adorable, from the caring creamy colour of her fur to the sweet perfumed mane and tail that tried to obscure her. It was probably the white paw prints on her attire that sealed that deal. Her ears were down, a good sign that this was a scolding born of worry.

“If you have migraines and toothaches then scaring my friends is not the best way to recovery, is it now?” Her rhetorical question was emphasised by a hands on hip stance and the lightest of stomps Vincent had ever seen.

The snake merely hissed, Vincent spotting a blue tongue darting out as the creature remained hidden. It was then, with a sudden flutter of wings, that the grounded pegasus jerked back on shock, hands on muzzle. She then fell to her bare knees, stroking the body of the reptile whilst offering the sweetest of apologetic looks the knight had ever witnessed.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that Angel Bunny was uncomfortable with you in my room, I’ll have to have a word with him soon. You should have come and found me.”

There was a long hiss.

“You should have taken the stairs instead of the window.”

This was quickly followed by a short, weaker his.

“Don’t you dare say that!” Fluttershy quickly said, reaching and drawing the wide head of the snake out. It faced down and away from the mare, weak and limp despite having the head the size of a large trowel. She brought him (she did say mister, after all) close and hugged the body as the snake laid his head over her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s because you scared her is all, and besides, you should really be getting to sleep.”

‘Sleep huh? I wonder if… yeah, it should work.’ All knights had a specialty, and maybe Vincent’s might come in handy.

By this point, Vincent’s mind had caught up to him. He was still supporting Miss Rarity, who was still enraptured by the display, and rather than draw attention to it he simply began to lower her down. Unfortunately, when he started to do so, she couldn’t help but feel slightly abashed. Once able, she stood up right and began to dust down her dress, lightly flushed in the cheeks.

“Pardon my reaction, Ser Vincent,” she began whilst pampering her mane, smiling despite herself, “I’m not exactly fond of… snakes, heh.” Her blush was receding but she managed to regain her dignity, holding her hands in front of her waist and offering a smile of gratitude. “Thank you for catching me.” Vincent was preoccupied observing the pegasus and the snake, but managed to turn his head slightly in her direction.

“Don’t worry, everyone’s got something to be afraid of.” His reply seemed to have placated her as Rarity then moved to greet Fluttershy.

“Sorry about my behaviour.” Her apology was met with a kind smile, whilst the snake seemed to be wincing as it rested against Fluttershy’s closed wings. “I’ve been here enough times to know to mind my manners with your… patients.”

“It’s fine, really, so long as you apologised,” Fluttershy replied with a small smile, still stroking the constrictor. She then glanced over to Vincent, her expression shifting to look petrified. Ears splayed back, body shrinking, and eyes locked onto him. Rarity, spotting this, looked between Vincent and the mare, wincing as she bit her lip.

‘I suppose her ideal plan fell through. Dear me, Miss Rarity wasn’t kidding.’

A weak hiss drew everypony’s attention. Fluttershy instantly returned to stroking the snake.

“Oh dear, let’s get you inside and find you some medicine before anything else.” Fluttershy said, attempting to rise to her feet. The weight of the snake was easily underestimated and its heavy form brought her back onto her rump. She squeaked as the constrictor visibly shuddered, his head shaking from side to side.

“Fluttershy, do you need a hand?” Rarity chimed in whilst collecting her fallen umbrella with her magic. She kept it in the air as it spun in the sunlight—no need to let dirt soil her pretty dress now. With a smile and a gesture of the hand, she brought Vincent into the conversation. Knowing his cue he stepped in. The pegasus shrunk away at his presence, but otherwise tried to put on a polite smile.

“Good afternoon, Miss Fluttershy, are you caring for all these animals?” If she wasn’t then this was a serious problem. Animals were literally nestling into her abode. He kept his voice warm. “Must be hard work.”

“O-Oh, yes, um, I take care of sick animals wh-whilst letting others lodge whilst they migrate,” she replied softly. Vincent turned back, spotting the antelope creeping up behind him. Quiet and friendly, no wonder they’re associated with peace—they hardly disturb anything.

“This one, in particular, caught my eye,” Vincent commented, reaching out to halt the animal. It did so, tilting its head in confusion briefly before braying at him. “How did this one end up so far from home?”

“He’s not well,” Fluttershy managed, feeling brave now that the coated stallion wasn’t staring at her with that blank, scary mask. “Poor thing hurt its eye and I couldn’t let him walk around injured.” Her sentiment was warming, the passion coming through as her ears perked up and her confidence was bolstered.

“He’s still over a hundred miles from Windtail Forest,” Vincent added, his hand slowly retreating as the buck made up its mind to ignore him and push forward. They did that. “Unless of course there’s more to it than that.” He lowered his hand and turned back to her, witnessing her knelt form wither under his hidden gaze.

“S-Stan doesn’t have a good sense of direction.”

At that point, the antelope bumped into Vincent’s side, rebounding off his solid form enough to fall on its haunches. Slowly the knight looked over his shoulder to spot the buck shaking its head before looking up to call at him again. ‘More of a dull, loud moan, really.’ Vincent reached out, as many times as he had done so to its kind before, and stroked the muzzle of the creature, mindful of its bandaged eye.

“And until his eye gets better… he doesn’t really have any good depth perception.” Vincent tore his gaze away from the incredibly content looking animal to look to Miss Rarity, who had been studying the two through calculating eyes.

“He had a decent enough sense of valour to warn Miss Rarity and me about the snake, speaking of which… what exactly is the problem?” Vincent asked innocently, his friendly voice reaching the mare’s ears. Fluttershy had been looking at Stan, smiling as a dopy look spread across the buck’s face. Like a big puppy really. With antlers. And hooves.

She looked to the tall masked stallion before her, seeing the bite mark on his shoulder, the clawmark on his lapel, the thin slice down his snout, and the burn on his gloved hand. Yet… as he petted Stan she couldn’t see any reason to be afraid. Well, he was a stranger, so she had no more reason to be more terrified of him than any other.

“This,” Rarity chirped, stepping in, “is Vincent, Fluttershy.” She turned to face him, arching a brow and offering a grin. “Or rather, should I say Ser Vincent, of the Solaris Knights.” Vincent gave a polite bow of the head.

“A knight?” Fluttershy’s surprised look diminished, her ears shooting up only to fold back when he squatted down to her level. His hand slipped along his belt pockets, migrating to his right side.

“Indeed. Ser Vincent Costello,” he answered as he plucked out a corked bottle. The green glass was dark but revealed itself to be a quarter full. The label had three ‘Z’s ascending in a staggered formation. “I would happily offer my assistance for anypony in need, if you’ll let me of course.”

“Well…” She began with hesitation creeping into her voice. Vincent pointed the mask away, as if to study the limp, coiled body of the sickly snake. Fluttershy, still with the animal draped over her like a lead-weighed scarf, looked to Rarity for reassurance. Sure enough, her friend’s beaming smile and small nod boosted the confidence in her judgement. “Okay, if you don’t mind.”

“Excellent,” he replied with subdued merriment, “Let’s start by getting you off the ground.”

Ser Vincent then proceeded to hook his arm over the ringed body of the snake, scooping it up with a grunt. The snake wriggled, slackening to spill loops of itself about, making hoisting the body across his shoulder difficult. Fluttershy, now able to stand, soothed the snake by holding its head close to her chest. She heard Vincent grunting, looking over and seeing him struggle to reach out with that little green bottle.

“Miss Fluttershy, please dab a little under his nostrils, maybe five or so drops worth.” She followed his instructions, hesitation and discomfort rattling her nerves due to the masked stallion’s presence. But Rarity seemed okay with him and Stan was lingering by still. He was certainly caring in how he handled Mr Yig Jr.’s slumped form. She then noticed the snake, whose head she had been cradling in one hand, went limp. In fact, it seemed his entire body stopped writhing.

“A sleeping potion?” Her inquiry was met with a slow, restrained nod as she corked the bottle.

“It’s good for… large fish of large lakes…” he grunted as he spread the weight of the snake evenly across his shoulders, “... wyvern adolescents… manticores… and some small children.” When he was comfortable, he turned to her and tilted his head. “I rarely use it on snakes but I can. But more later, how about we get this one comfy?” His caring words brought a smile to Fluttershy’s lips.

“Certainly, I’ll fetch his basket.” She decided to keep hold of the bottle, rather than bother him with it. Oh but she was certainly going to return it! Right after he finished bringing— “Dear me, um, please come in.”

Vincent couldn’t help but huff in amusement at her sheepish display, fortunately it didn’t reach the pegasus’s ears. She returned to her home and Rarity followed, an idle remark escaping her.

“Well it certainly was not my original plan but we achieved the desired result.” She held the door open with her magic, still opting to keep her and her parasol as far away from the snake as possible. He followed her through without outward complaint.

‘Burdening myself with a serpentine scarf was a desired result?’

It was a spacious interior. A cosy cottage feel expanded to fit a large enough room for several chipmunks, squirrels, birds and cute rodents, and much more. It was surprisingly neat as well. Cupboards were tucked into one corner, bird cages were lined against a staircase opposing a stone fireplace; there was a plush viridian couch next to a window, accompanied by a coffee table and comfy chair. He was rather embarrassed that he’d forgotten to wipe his boots.

“That was a certainly handy to keep on hand,” Rarity remarked, cantering in to take a seat on the couch. She regarded him with bright, quizzitive eyes. “A potion for every pocket I presume?” He remained by the door until he knew where to deposit his reptilian weight.

“All knights need a specialty—mine made me qualify for a combat alchemist role.” Vincent’s attention shifted to the stair case, “I make a lot of my own potions but I can’t equip them all. It was useful for subduing fugitives, like on my last job.” Vincent wasn’t exactly sure whether being a representative of his kind meant embellishing in past missions or whether others did so with gusto and he’d never really bothered. Or rather, ever liked the notion. Still, stories and reputation were important for knights.

“And what was that?” Rarity inquired, placing her close brolly across her dressed lap.

“Track down a group of hunters scaling silver barbed eels,” he said with a shrug, “Subdue them and bring them in. A very long two days without sleep.” He caught a glimpse of Miss Rarity’s cheeks attempting to match the cushions. Perhaps he had embellished too much.

“What happened to the eels?” Fluttershy’s question surprised him, mostly because she fluttered down the stairs so silently. She held a large dog basket in her grasp, slightly overbearing for her size given how she had to raise a bare thigh to stop herself from dropping it. For the first time since meeting her Vincent could see confidence in those strong teal eyes, no, a potent courage born of passion. Animals. Her life may be around animals; it was at this point he noticed her cutie mark: a trio of pink butterflies. Maybe she cared for all life.

‘It would certainly be characteristic associated with kindness.’

“I spent the second night and the third day helping to relocate the ones that been dumped into a nearby lake, where coincidently, there was the illegal farming site of eels,” Vincent replied as he wondered over to her. He didn’t see her face when she lowered the basket to the ground, nor could he see it when he began to carefully coil the constrictor into bed. He continued with a proud tone. “I’m happy to say we managed to save the school of endangered eels, largely thanks to careful application of the sleeping agent… after we got them out of the lake.” With a weary sigh, he rose to full height, eyeing his dirtied lower half whilst rolling his bitten shoulder.

“Had somepony who didn’t check if an eel was out cold, almost took his head off,” he said whilst looking to a now wide-eyed Rarity, “Managed to avoid a rather gruesome incident, and on the whole no one was hurt severely.” He looked back to Fluttershy, finding her hovering with concerned stare and hands comforting each other.

“So are the babies okay?” she asked, her tail swishing.

“I’m certain that they’ve been taken to a specialised facility to house them, I saw to that personally.” He bowed his head, believing he had fulfilled his part in representing his elite regiment. Now to the important reason to his visit.

“Excuse me,” Rarity chimed in, still eyeing his shoulder and raising a hand, “but, um, baby eels?” She pointed to Vincent and he followed her line of sight to the rest of the scars in his attire.”

“Yes, baby silver barbed eels can grow up to the size of Mr Yig Jr. before adolescence.” Fluttershy replied, taking on a scholarly manner as she grew unaware of Rarity’s horrified expression, “Their scales are fourth to a dragons in durability and have blade-like fins and tails; they’re really fast in the water and have a very sharp bite, which can also open as wide as a snake’s too!”

Ser Vincent was very much aware.

“But… baby eels?” Rarity reiterated, her ears folding as she shuddered. “I’d hate to think what an adult could do.”

“No matured eels were present. I checked. I don’t think this would last from taking a tail whip from an adult barb eel,” Vincent added, tapping the hairline fracture on his mask. “Again… the same stallion… not checking for sleeping eels.” He sighed, shaking his head. He probably didn’t have to mention where the clawed lapel came from.

“Anyhow, Ser Vincent,” Rarity began, swiftly changing the subject, “Didn’t you have something to ask Fluttershy?” The pegasus in question landed softly, focusing her attention on the knight.

“Me?”

“Yes.” Though Ser Vincent stood tall, hands behind his back and as an icon of professionalism expected of a military member, his friendly tone slipped through easily enough. “That is, if you are the one who first discovered several crates of weapons and armour.”

“Well, um,” Fluttershy started weakly, curling the tip of that long lock of rose mane around her primary finger, “It wasn’t me but Angel Bunny who found them.”

“In that case could I meet them? It seems that one of the crates went missing so it’s rather important.” He replied. She nodded eagerly.

“I’ll go get him.” She then fluttered back upstairs, a door opening a brief moment where in a cat could be heard mewling. Vincent noted the wilted look striking Rarity briefly, her lips pursing as Fluttershy returned. With a tilt of the head, Ser Vincent regarded the snow white bunny looking none too pleased to be held up under its arms.

“Okay Angel, remember those crates you found a few days ago when you were playing with your friends?” The rabbit, still flat faced and grumpy, arched its head up to face her. “Did you see five crates there?” She placed him on the floor after landing, the rabbit bringing a poor to its chin and thumping its foot as it pondered. Surprisingly, it made a clicking sound with its paw that one would associate with fingers. Then it nodded.

“So somepony took a crate then.” Vincent concluded, restraining an exasperated sigh. That either meant looking around town once more, or looking around the rest of Equestria depending on what evidence was still present at the location where the crates were found.

‘Go to Ponyville, drop off the letter, pick up the crates… why did that have to be so complicated?’ His masked gaze fell back to the rabbit, now dancing with it paws in the air and a dumb expression on its face. Its ears were flattened against its head. Vincent looked to its caretaker and found her staring intently, reading its movements. Glancing to the couch, he was greeted by an unsure shrug from Miss Rarity. Then the rabbit started barking.

If it hadn’t been for Miss Fluttershy’s gasp he probably would have been befuddled by that sight for the rest of the evening.

“Diamond dogs!” Her soft voice shook with apprehension, as if the name should be feared. For Ser Vincent it was a name for more hard work. After tracking them down he’d have to retrieve the crate, how smoothly that would happen he could not say.

He released that exasperated sigh. Well, no time like the present.

“I’ll need to see where the crates were originally found, it’s likely they would have taken it back to their den.” He brought a hand to his hood, pressing until he could feel his temple. He lowered his head, thoughts of the implications of a nearby dog den running wild. Freshly armed. Unknown numbers. Possessive tendency. The more violent packs inevitably become raiders.

His gaze snapped to his belt, his fingers already flicking up numerous pocket lips. Resources were low, he had come prepared for subduing numerous criminals and the naturally defensive eels, so most of his empty pockets once housed more of the sleeping potion. There were gone, and he only had those two vials and numerous pellets remaining. “It’s going to be a long hunt if three days have already passed.”

“I suppose forty-five minutes is a long time,” Rarity chimed in as Vincent removed one of the vials, thick glassed and filled with an oozy-granite-like fluid. He slowly craned his head to face her, tilting it slightly. She offered a ghost of a smile. “Follow the road to the south and you’ll come across an opening in the tree line to an arid patch of land rife with precious gemstones.”

“You know of them?” To this she chuckled, a rich warming laugh.

“We were acquainted and I can’t say I favoured their company for long,” she answered whilst pampering her tail by her side. “They should be rather docile now, though.”

“I see,” he said, easily hiding his annoyance. So the town was aware of the dogs but did nothing? Then again, perhaps this was due to the lack of garrisons to the south compared the rest of Equestria; local militias and mercenary groups tended to work to protect their towns, so perhaps the prince’s pledge for more troops was warranted. That didn’t excuse leaving a town open to a potential threat. So what if the Elements lived here? Should they be exposed to this?

“Then farewell and a pleasant evening,” Vincent added, bowing to both mares before moving to the door.

“H-hold on!” Fluttershy’s cry halted him. He looked back to see her holding the green bottle. “Um, here you go. Thank you.”

“I believe you’ll get more use out of it as it is, just remember five drops or dabs maximum.” Vincent cast a titled gaze down to the sleeping snake, still coiled in its basket. “He may need it. I hope he has a speedy recovery.” Fluttershy heard the smile in his sincere voice, resulting in a gratuitous one of her own.

“Thank you, err, do I say Ser Knight or Ser Vincent?” She inquired. He chuckled.

“Either or Miss, either or.” Once again he turned back to the door, only to get stopped by Rarity.

“You’re not actually planning on visiting those diamond dogs by yourself, are you?” she asked with disbelief in her tone. The emotion spread to her expression when he nodded. “In that case I’ll com-“

“I’m afraid I cannot allow that, Miss Rarity.” His voice was still low; curt, stern, and laced with an indisputable tone that stopped her in her tracks. Vincent didn’t sound warm, nor was he cold, but he talked with solid facts as if they were written in stone.

“These dogs are, as of now, armed and dangerous, whether they intend to use the stolen weapons or not. If they are hostile, then I refuse to allow civilians such as yourself to be put at risk.” He reached for the handle. “Don’t worry, with diamond dogs it all boils down to respect.” He pulled open the door, startling Stan outside. He looked back over his shoulder. “I’m certain they will do as they’re told.” The viridian cloaked stallion then walked out, patting the antelope as it tried to nip at Vincent’s limp brown tail.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Fluttershy, and it’s always a pleasure to meet a friendly face again, Miss Rarity. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Fluttershy replied, smiling despite the uneasiness nestling in her stomach.

“If you must go alone… good luck, Ser Vincent, don’t be a stranger,” Rarity replied, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. He chuckled heartily, his light baritone echoing inside his mask.

“I doubt you’ll see anypony stranger than me.” She cracked a smirk at the statement, one that slowly dissipated after he closed the door.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Fluttershy asked, seating herself on the opposite side of the couch Rarity was on. The rabbit had scampered onto the coffee table to view out the window, beady eyes narrowed in suspicion at the hooded figure now heading south.

“We mustn’t forget that he’s a knight, Fluttershy.” Rarity responded, though she too was stealing glances at the disappearing figure. It was remarkably difficult: he was just off the path and already he seemed to merge into the general scenery. “On top of that he is the prince’s finest, and I can’t imagine that arrogant buffoon would pick just any knight to protect him.” She offered a shrug and a calming smile.

“Who knows? It probably is something he deals with on a daily basis every now and then, he certainly seemed confident enough.” She added. Fluttershy nibbled her lower lip.

“Yes, but I’m still worried about him.” She fidgeted with her hands momentarily, “Maybe we should help him?” She wiped the animal fur that had clung to her jumper from her chest, brushing off final strands from her bare legs and hooves.

“I agree.”

“Really?”

“Give it five minutes and I’ll head over Twlight’s,” Rarity explained, leaning in with a conspirator’s twinkle in her eye, “I know tea at Twilight’s is in half an hour’s time, but we can surely start early if I mention that a knight might end up in trouble.” She leant back, grinning. “I believe he underestimates us.”

“Well, he certainly seemed confident enough, and he doesn’t seem tired even after three days of protecting animals from meanies, so maybe we don’t need to help him at all,” the pegasus reasoned. “He really nice thinking about our safety like that.”

“He hides it well, trust me,” Rarity commented with a shake of her head, “He tends to slouche just a little and his legs moves sluggishly; I’d thought it was that armour underneath but even his tail dangles limp, drained off all energy. Do you think we should leave him be?”

“Not realy…”

“Then I’ll mention it to Twilight when we pop over.”

A long cat wail sounded through the cottage. Rarity shot up, quickly trotting towards the stairs.

“Momma’s coming opal!”

Author's Note

And it's aaaaaalll down hill from here, Ser Vincent. Like, favourite, and comment below, but please, can anyone tell me why I have to Author's notes appearing at the bottom of the chapter?

Ta.

Chapter Seven

Everypony always wanted to help. Knights always arrived in order to prevent a disaster, or stamp out trouble. Therefore, it was no surprise that ponies wished to help knights. Despite not knowing how to carrel animals and demons away. Despite not having an inkling on how to steer a flood. Despite lacking any self-defence, or offensive, training of any kind. Despite being informed that their strength is not enough, supposedly courage would lead the way to salvation.

Not always true.

Without a doubt, courage made dragons of lizards and manticores of kittens, but what of drakes that still didn’t have a strong enough flame? What of the feline’s agility if it is sorely lacking? That’s when safely rescued become the rescued injured. Worse than that? The ponies who reached out with sudden uncontrollable power; an earth pony that cracked the entire frozen lake; the pegasus that flew too fast to manoeuvre; a unicorn that caved in the tunnel with an overzealous blast.

Control.

Knights mastered the craft of dominating enemies, of manipulating the scenery to suit them, of weaving a safety net to catch the innocent and drag them out of the fire as the flames of the unlawful were stomped out. Knights specialised in their talents to use them to the utmost efficiency, whether that be researching potions or raining down ice. Tools of the trade involved authority and respect, and for Vincent the latter was the core of his being.

To be respected meant to have achieved, to have succeeded where many may fail, have failed, would fail if they tried. To be respected was to stand above as one others would look to, who others would scrutinise for flaws and picked at for the methods of success. And Vincent, quite happily, towered compared to his peers.

He didn’t like allowing the locals to help but conceded when it was safe. Miss Dash could deliver a message without endangering herself, in turn, risking an Element of Harmony. Equestria’s trump card. Whereas bringing Miss Rarity to negotiations with diamond dogs so that they handed over their stolen goods was a recipe for disaster- fuel for the fire.

So could he count on Miss Rarity to survive an underhanded attack from dogs during negotiations? One sixth of the Elements of Harmony? He didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

Ser Vincent’s ponderings accompanied him like his shadow, bold during the journey along the lit path before diminishing as he came to the turn off into clearing. They disappeared as he remained on the naturally sheltered strip of earth hidden beneath trees, leading onto the arid grounds, his attire merging into the luscious undergrowth from where he stood.

A spartan, dusty landscape was presented before him; four crooked trees swayed with sickened leaves amidst the few boulders to populate the space. Further out to the outskirts were ridges reaching high, surrounding the land. Vincent’s attention was not on them, but the large mounds dotting the landscape here and there. He finally stepped out, his mind focused on signs of crates being dragged through the dirt.

He kept his stroll at a fair pace, his head rotating quicker in order to spot either evidence or danger. Vincent had to remain alert, he had to remain on guard: this was not his territory, but neither was it the dogs’, technically. Past a wilting tree, thick with pale leaves, he discovered an unusually large tunnel. It descended into darker recesses, unlit torches present but unnecessary to spot the carcasses of small animals.

That… was not something he’d associate with dogs. Tribal, perhaps in the loosest sense of the word, but they were never one to leave bones strewn about their dens. It was, even for them, unhygienic and brought about other predators.

He crouched down, his mask pointed to the ground, wherein he could faintly see a neat groove in the floor, straight and true. Something had been dragged through here, and he had a fair hunch as to what. He sucked in a deep breath.

“You’ve taken a crate of weapons from Princess Celestia. I am Ser Vincent of the Solaris Knight.” His bellowing voice echoed through the tunnel, his soft baritone lost to a fierce bark. His tone was cold. “I seek for you to return it!”

He rose to full height, glancing back as he migrated away from area. It was only a short distance, but already he wasn’t surrounded by a tall tree and dog mounds, plus there were fewer boulders for ambushes. The earth rumbled and writhed, rocks and gem shards hopping along. From within the tunnel came a horrendous howls resonating in perfect harmony. He scanned his surroundings, knowing he was standing on what was quintessentially a dinner plate the size of the clearing.

To his surprise, only one dog came out. A lanky greyed hound, garbed in an orange vest and studded collar, one with a hanging orange gem. He was the den leader, a “chief” was also sufficient, and to call him the “alpha male” was a dated term for his kind. He was barely out of the scrawny aspects, but like all diamond dogs, had longer, thicker arms than legs. Hunched over with a feral gleam to his eye and an offended sneer, he growled his statements.

“What says we listen to you?!” Of course there were others, the den leaders always answered the call, but they did not have to be alone. Vincent would watch out for them as he waited, on guard.

“I am a Solaris Knight, of Princess Celestia,” Vincent reiterated, his voice normal and calm. He put his peeling gloved hand upon his chest. “I am not here for any fighting, I just needed your attention.” The dog tilted his head, scowling towards him.

“Sun pony is not night pony!” he barked back, stepping out further. “Go away. You lie pony!” Vincent raised his hands.

“No. Those that protect the princess are called guards, and the stronger guards are called knights.” He tilted his head and offered a shrug. “Spelt differently.” That shrug almost drained him of his remaining energy.

“Stronger?” The dog growled, his paw easily carving the earth as he balled a fist. “We don’t have your box of spears and body metals!” Still keeping his hands up, Ser Vincent lowered his gaze a little.

“Who said there were spears?” A whip of the clubbed tail and folding of his wolf ears meant Vincent struck something, be it a nerve or the truth. Or both. “I don’t want to fight, I want to help.” The dog’s expression shifted, his jowls lowering to hide his yellowed canines and his sharp eyes losing their edge.

“How does taking weapons help?”

“I just tell guards that I found them, not that I had to… come into contact with diamond dogs in order to find them.” He lowered an arm but thumbed over his shoulder with his scorched glove. “They then don’t have to storm your den because you set up too close to a village.” The dog then raised its fist, a guttural growl escaping his maw.

“But if we don’t give you our weapons we are safe from ponies! We are strong enough to fend off even ogres!” He then brought his fist down into the ground. “Then nopony can storm our den!”

Vincent felt the earth beneath him quiver. He heard it crack by his boots.

“I’m not a pony.” Vincent remarked as his footing started to crumble. He was quick enough to step back to secure ground but was not unaffected by the event.

The shock, the scare, the raw terror at the brief sense of vertigo triggered a chain reaction, biochemical, magical, and primal. His heart began to race, the colour to his vision dulled, time crept, and his eyes started to shimmer beneath the hood. He could still turn back, calm the heart and mind. That was something he learnt to control first: the beginning of an adrenaline rush.

But as that knotted arm reached out the ground for him, its blue paw extending its claws to grip Vincent… his body realised before he did that there was danger still present. The rush took him, coursing through his arteries to fuel his muscles and reflexes, to heighten and improve his senses. The world greyed until anything that moved shone vividly with their colours: the sprayed earth, the malachite shards, and the indigo claws having reached as far as they could. The distant ridges became monotone, as did the nearby trees and soil.

The sound of more burrowing reached him, the den leader still barking his orders. Vincent had to choose, or rather he had to think over the sound of energised blood rushing through his ears.

‘Fight or Flight? Fight or Flight? Control. Fight or Flight? Control… Fight.’

The world was catching up to him now, the first stage of the rush coming to a close: his reflexes sky rocketed but fell like feather. Still remained peaked and higher than normal, however.

He snatched the falling arm in one hand with viper like tenacity, bending down so he could thrust his scorched hand into the earth and grip a dog’s collar. He heard the mongrel choke as Vincent snapped back, but he also heard something had emerged behind him.

He pulled with enhanced strength, he yanked with terrible might, and twisted around with his new unearthed payload to see the threat.

A helmeted dog had both its arms planted, preparing to hoist itself out. Vincent saw it shift expressions, slower than normal, but not at the rate as when his rush started; anger, confusion, and fear. Without reservation, Vincent launched the dog at his comrade, striking him in the chest.

He didn’t have time linger—another came to his right.

His gaze honed in on the approaching fiend, his masked stare alive with a potent magic. Through golden eyes he saw an armoured dog roaring towards him, wielding a spear.

It thrusted as hard is it could, as fast as its arm would allow. For Vincent this was nothing. He shifted his form to lean to the side, watching the point thread through the open air.

‘The spear’s polished, sharpened, and pristine, and wielding a solar insignia upon the blade.’

He swiftly hooked his arm around pole as it retracted, stopping it dead and gripping before the dog’s paw. They made eye contact.

‘Armour is poor quality and not of any guard’s… not to be retrieved.’

A gloved fist smashed into the armoured chest of the hound, denting the metal and sending the dog recoiling. With a slipped gripped, Vincent was able to tear away the spear and land both gloved hands onto it.

It was too easy to sweep the wheezing hound’s legs. The hound fell with a clatter. With a quick flourished spin, a fear tactic to humiliate the dog, Vincent brought the blunt end of the spear down upon his enemy’s snout. Hard. His coat danced, leaping due to momentum.

Vincent now faced a mortified den leader, who hadn’t been polite enough to offer his name, to allow Vincent to properly introduce himself. A den leader staring in wide eyed horror as the beaten dog howled in agony, a nasally whimper sounding off by Vincent’s boots. Three ambushed him, and in less than twelve seconds they were incapacitated.

The knight stood tall, spear standing beside him and with a fierce golden glow beneath the hood. Intense power would linger for as long as his heart would race. The spear fell to the ground, startling the leader.

“I tried to be civil.” Vincent replied, flexing the gloved hand that struck against metal. The sense of pain was deadened during an adrenaline rush, so it was up to him to remember what would hurt afterwards. The dog watched as the material cloaking the hand writhed, the primary and secondary fingers seeming to… expand and contract. Ser Vincent settled on a balling it into a fist by his side.

“That’s common decency: respect freely given to others,” He said, reaching to his hood. The mask helped mute the rapid breathing. “But when you won’t listen to reason, when you don’t follow through and disrespect me, then I have an alternative. I don’t like it… but I’m not afraid to use it.”

He peeled it back, revealing a strange sight for den leader; above the mask was a very short mane, messy and dark, like freshly carved earth from the depths of the den's tunnels. Three brown straps reach around from the mask’s edges, tightened to fit, and to avoid a strange bit of flesh on either side. They were almost flat against the head, oval in shape—that’s what they were: ears.

When Vincent’s gloved hands reached behind his head, those empowered eyes, with wisps of golden aura trailing out, pierced the dog as he spoke again.

“If you won’t listen out of respect… then you will obey out of fear.” There was no warmth to his voice. The den leader almost growled, standing to attack, but faltered as soon as Vincent removed the mask. He balked, his sneer failing against Vincent’s, his growl losing to the knight’s. He had never seen a face like that before.

“What are you?!”

“Before anything else, a Solaris Knight.” His voice was unhindered, a hardened shallow baritone. “Or nopony, who stormed your den, like you said.”

A mixture of fear and rage boiled over the leader’s face, and with a shrill howl, the earth shook once more.

Then the mask dropped.

Rainbow Dash was miffed.

When she finished delivering the message to Twilight, she had to sit through being questioned on what she thought of him after being forced to recall exactly what Vinny had said. Twilight had always been letter savvy: perfect punctuation, great grammar, packing the exact amount information suited for short summaries to Princess Celestia. Dash just guessed egg heads had habits that died hard.

When asked about the knight himself, she couldn’t say much, other than he was going to tell her some awesome stories. Which she was totally stoked for. She did manage to say that he was alright, weird on the eyes but mellow and chill and a cool guy in the end. Mentioning that she tried to sneak a peek really set Twi off, but she managed to calm her down.

She bolted out that library as if the royal librarian was about to churn out a lecture, and given her mood she probably was. She thought she’d spot him wandering around town, but there was no sign. She zipped past the town hall, not one green stallion in sight; flew over the park, no sight of anypony overdressed for a sunny afternoon; after looking to the roads leading out of town she gave up and returned to Ponyville, grumbling to herself. He totally owed her a story.

On her way back, however, she came across Fluttershy and Rarity, both of whom were returning to town. Shy wasn’t one to fly anywhere if it could be helped and Rarity had some umbrella to block the light.

‘What’s with that anyway? She was sunbathing with the rest of us two weeks ago by the lake.’

“Hey Shy! Hey Rarity!” Maybe they’d seen the knight. Believing Dash was behind them, there was delay before they looked up after turning around. Fluttershy smiled, and so did Rarity, at first. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen a knight around here have you?” She gestured above herself, “About yay big, broad guy, covered in armour and wears a coat, has a mask and is touchy about personal space?”

“Hello Rainbow. So you’ve met Vincent too,” Fluttershy began, before pursing her lips. “I mean Ser Vincent.”

“Yeah, that’s the guy!” Alright, so she was finally getting somewhere! She landed and walked over to them.

“The very same who you tried to disrobe if I’m not mistaken,” Rarity sniped with an arched brow.

“Look I had a very good reason for doing that, and me and him are cool about that,” Dash retorted, scuffing the ground with a hoof and folding her arms.

“Mmhm, and I’m sure you have a good reason for tearing my summer parasol from my grasp as you raced by.” Rarity then spun the item against her shoulder as soon as Dash noticed. The pegasus then grinned.

“Yeah, I was taking a message to Twilight about serious knight business, duty… stuff.” Rainbow rubbed the back of her head. “Sorry about the umbrella.” Rarity rolled her eyes but smiled never the less.

“Its fine, I just hope you’re more considerate about how you take off next time. I was lucky Ser Vincent was there to catch it. Why do you need to see him?” Rarity’s query was met with a shrug.

“Guy was gonna tell me a few stories about being a knight after I sent a message to Twi, so I’m trying to find him.” To this Fluttershy piped up.

“Oh, he’s talking to the diamond dogs about a crate of armour they took. I’m sure they were just curious.” Rainbow stared owlishly, tail whipping.

“The diamond dogs?!” Whoa, this sounded like trouble. She’d better—

“Dash, I know what you’re thinking but Fluttershy and I are going to talk with Twilight and see if we need to help,” Rarity said, catching Rainbow on the spot a split second before she would have spread her wings. “He seemed to believe he doesn’t need a hand, so maybe we should discuss this with her, seeing as she is a princess now.”

Rainbow simply looked between the two with a deadpanned expression.

“Nope.” Her wings spread wide with a mighty poomf!

“Rainbow, don’t bother him, it might cause him to get hurt.” Fluttershy’s comment kept the cyan mare grounded for a few more seconds, but inevitably she took to the air, hovering briefly.

“Look, I’ll… keep an eye on him, and if he looks like he’s in trouble give him a hand. That’s what you guys are doing right? That’s why you’re going to Twilight.” Both Rarity and Fluttershy exchanged glanced before the snow-white unicorn conceded a nod.

“Alright Rainbow, be quick about it and tell us what you find. We’ll be at the library.”

“Fine.” As Rainbow bolted into the sky with wings beating fast, she snorted. She was just going to check on him anyway, see what was going on. If she saw him talking to the dogs then she knew she wasn’t really going to help by dropkicking a dog back into its stupid, stinking hole. As awesome as that would be. She snatched a small cloud rather that punch through it, pushing it along with her as she sped through the air. If she was going to see a show, then she was gonna bring a seat. A familiar sight approached in the distance, a bad memory surfacing as she stopped along the main road.

“What the…”

She was not prepared for what she saw. Perched high above the carnage below, she saw twelve or so dogs throwing themselves at a forest-green beast, who easily knocked them back. Eight dogs remained still where they had fallen before her arrival. It danced amongst their numbers, striking with enough precision to down a target (or two). Every now and then, pricks of gold would leave a trail in its wake. Eyes. They were eyes.

“No way, is that Vinny?” she whispered with disbelief at the sight. That was definitely Ser Vincent; his flowing coat was as distinguishable as the dulled armour beneath. Any dog that grabbed him was swiftly beaten back, some roundhouse kicked.

But that wasn’t the head of a pony. It was the same size, more rounded, came with a short crop of mane, but didn’t have a muzzle…

Didn’t have a muzzle?

…

“Oh Celestia,” Rainbow muttered, green in the cheeks and sick to the core. So that’s why he wore a mask. He’d obviously lost most of his face in a terrible accident!

To her surprise however, and what stopped her from barrelling down and kicking flank twice as hard as Vincent was, was that he seemed to be doing a strange type of magic. He’d reach into those pockets from time to time and punch a dog (enough to floor the poor mongrel), resulting in a strange blue goop growing and restricting them instantly. It grew and grew as they writhed before solidifying and sticking them to the floor, leaving heads and paws to wriggle.

Then why was his eyes glowing?

She watched as he flowed like water, shifting his body to avoid claw and spear, striking in a manner akin to nuclear powered vipers. He had the natural agility of a pegasus and the strength of an earth pony. Or was that because of those eyes? It was probably how he was handling his own pole-arm as well now that he’d torn it from a dog. He snapped off and discarded the bladed tip.

“What are you? Unicorn? No, horn…”

Finally the dogs decided that enough was enough, and retreated, some fleeing to the far side amidst the ridges, others diving into tunnels. That is, if they didn’t fall over their peers. If they were conscious then they were a minority.

She watched him target a familiar little diamond dog that fled, beige and with a bark stronger than it could bite if she recalled. As soon as Vincent locked eyes onto him the dog ran with a loud shriek. It was then that Vincent reached into his outside pocket and retrieved something small, something round, and something green. With an awestruck sense of curiosity, she watched intently.

Ser Vincent broke off a few pieces from the snapped end, completely blunting it. The knight then fitted the round object onto the broken bit of the spear, never taking his eye of the fleeing target.

He was still screaming. Vincent then shifted his hand and arm to cock the spear back, Dash putting two and two together. For a moment her heart leapt into her mouth, stopping her voicing her mortification.

He took aim, reaching out with the other arm and extending back the burdened one.

He threw it.

It flew.

Fast and in a neat arc. She had a hard time following it. In fact, she only managed to witness its devastating effects. The green tip exploded after coming into contact with the back of the dog’s head, stunning him as the rest of the spear tumbled over him and off into the undergrowth skirting the land.

She watched him stumble, back track, and roll before passing out.

Dash shifted her gaze back to Vincent. He watched with an eerie silence, as still as a moss covered tree trunk. The dog didn’t move beside twitch its leg. Vincent then craned his head over his shoulder and walked towards a small pit. She could see he was restless but she did not want to get any closer.

“I’ve gotta tell the girls.” With that, she abandoned her cloud and made a bee line for the library, leaving a rainbow trail in her wake.

Rover, the den leader, was terrified.

If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

Just when he thought he secured the safety of his den, the safety of his pack through a box of incredible weapons and armour, something comes to take them away. As his body ached from bruises, as his legs screamed with every twitch of a muscle, as his chest burnt with every breath, he could only whimper into the ground his face rested against when he heard it moving towards him. The ponies were bad enough. Even after this monster was gone, then the others would come back.

He opened a bruised eye, his nostrils flaring to blow dust and dirt in the way. He could see it, the mask. Straps of leather were bolted firmly on. The empty gaze stared back, lifeless and impassive. Scratched from something that could touch the monster, cracked by something the monster could not touch. Nothing done by the dogs.

He could hear the monster returning.

The earth was grinded as a boot lowered itself into view, forcing a sliver of sapphire into the ground. Rover could only hold his breath as it passed over him, its coat stroking him as it stopped by the mask.

“You… caught me at a bad time,” it said, remorse touching its tone. That disgusted Rover. “See, the last group of ponies that tried to stop me thought to blast me to pieces because they didn’t want to hand over the living creatures they were harming.” It crouched down, back to the dog and Rover could only spot a tuft of mane, damp with sweat.

“They ended up like your friends too. I tried to talk to them as some criminals do cooperate. Just talk to me. Tried talking to you but we wound up here. They knew what they were doing was wrong. But what really… irritated me to this degree was that they didn’t believe they should face their punishment.” Rover saw it shake its head, a huff of amusement escaping it. “I let them get the first shot, show them disrespecting me further was a bad idea. They saw I was fireproof but alas it was apparently their only idea, and, well…”

He heard the rustle of fabric as it raised its arms.

“I’m proud to say that Equestria is safer without those hunters,” its voice was warm again, either deceptively so or painfully sincere, “Which is why they are safely in prison and with minor injuries.”

It held the mask out to the side, and Rover knew it was so he could see stare back.

“Didn’t have to take this off though, rarely do. They ran into a forest and by that point they doomed themselves. Out here? I’m not trying to reassure any civilians. See, ponies, they fear anything different don’t they? Natural reaction. Makes my job more difficult than necessary.” Its tone touched on accepted melancholy, and Rover could almost feel the alien smile on its lips despite facing away.

“Bothersome, really. Mother and Father went through something similar when they, um, arrived for lack of a better word. In the end they kind of stayed in Canterlot. I think its because the Princess wanted to keep an eye on them. And wanted father’s cooking. You won’t believe their story, I know I wouldn’t but I don’t exactly have anypony else’s word to take on my heritage, so I do.”

It pulled its hood up and over, sighing deeply.

“Sorry. I’m calming myself down. What I have I can’t start it but I can steer it and stop it early. Sets off when somepony startles me. I stop before it triggers a rush amidst a surprise birthday party. Again, my apologies, I tend to keep quiet so I don’t start waffling at this point.” He pulled his mask back to himself and stood up. Migrating to Rover’s side, the dog whimpered when he was gently rolled over onto his back.

Rover kept his eyes shut.

“I don’t like hurting the innocent, you know. That extends to those that try to keep stuff they might need, but I retract such a sentiment if they are going to use those stolen goods for malicious purposes.” Its voice took on a serrated edge, its words pressing against his throat to stop Rover from even swallowing. He didn’t want to hurt, he wanted to be safe. He was petrified.

“So. There’s a town of ponies nearby, very nice ones, and a princess too,” it continued, resting a finger lightly on a bruise. It made Rover shudder. “You weren’t going to use those weapons against them now, were you?” It snarled, louder meaning it was leaning closer.

He moved his tongue, feeling the strain of parting swollen lips.

“N-no… Ponies are bad,” Rover croaked, “Ogres are worse.” He could feel its hand roaming over him, checking for… something. If it wanted the gems in his pocket, to rob him of his prized crystals, then it could take them. He couldn’t stop it. The monster then replied with a piqued voice of interest.

“That’s the second time you said that.”

“Ogres want gems. They come at night, eat and take, beat us and leave. We’re tired.” Rover lost all pride and dignity, sniffling through wounded nose and leaking a stained tear from his good eye. He just wanted to protect his pack. He summoned one more growl, one last flicker of outrage. “And then you! Worse than ogres.”

It was silent. For a while.

“I am.”

Slowly, Rover cracked open its eyes, wincing as his bad one struggled. It stared back, though different now. It was hooded, face shadowed and Rover’s eyes blinded by the sun.

Those tired eyes, with the glow still receding, with its breath slowing from exerted exercise, looked back with pity. What was left was potent malachite eyes, sharp and stained with a dissipating gold around the edge.

“I need to be stronger, so that others may depend on me, so that others will fear me. So that everypony acknowledges me as their equal… no…” It turned away, a fatigued stare studying Rover’s injuries. “For the sake of common decency.”

“W-w-what?” Rover managed before suffering a painful cough.

He heard it rummage along that belt, not paying him any mind. The mask, he saw, was facing him from where it lay to the side.

“I am a knight, first and foremost. I’ll need to get those crates back to Ponyville, and then we can sort out this mess.” It pulled out a gauze roll, stained green with flecks of blue, smelling of spearmint. “Easy now, let’s get you patched up.”

Author's Note

Please like and comment, your feedback helps!

Chapter Eight

Within the sacred sanctuary of her room, Princess Twilight Sparkle sat upon her bed, her contemplative stare catching the light from the window she faced. In her purple hands was the reason for her troubled thoughts: the letter from Prince Blueblood in regards to Ser Vincent. Her hooves idly swung from over the edge, pendulums to mark each considered thought. Her tail would shift every now and then, a sign that she was now unconsciously re-reading the letter from the start.

‘This is simply out of nowhere!’ A frustrated snort quickly fled from her before Twilight’s shoulders slumped. ‘Vincent didn’t act as if Blue Blood regularly sent letters out ahead of him, so is this a first?’ Prince Blueblood and she had absolutely nothing to do with one and other, to the point that either had been living their lives without the other ever crossing their minds. So why would he send this?

‘Maybe it’s a warning?‘ The Equestrian princess looked over her shoulder to the door, recalling why she entered the room in the first place. She had a bit of auditory aid at this point.

“I’m telling you! He. Had. No. Muzzle!”

Rainbow had been arguing her case for a while now, no doubt bothered by the received disbelief as her audience was for her pushing such a tale onto them and claiming fact.

“You also claim that he single-handedly took down an entire diamond dog den.” Rarity, though hard to hear from a floor above, was a clear voice of reason at the moment. “That his eyes glowed… that he, as an earthpony, was casting magic.”

With a sigh, Twilight charged a teleportation spell and held the letter in a tighter grip. A mystical pop and a moment of magic induced vertigo later, and she found herself in the library. Her friends, minus Applejack, weren’t surprised by the sudden appearance from where they sat around the center table.

Rarity was the only one present fully dressed for the tea party that had started early, and had brought up the topic of the knight. She’d brought Fluttershy, clad in a puppy-pawed- jumper, who sat beside her and poured tea for herself and others from the gilded tea set, careful not to disturb the slice of cake Pinkie protected like a stoic guard dog. They turned to face her, Rainbow twisting to face behind her where Twilight stood, magenta eyes slipping to the letter the princess’ hand.

“Oh hey, Twi, we’re still talking about Vinny.” Dash still had a green tint beneath the fur of her cheeks. “And about why he has that mask.” Twilight walked over, a nervous grin on her muzzle as she took a seat between the pegasus and the earth pony.

“Really, you know why?” She shifted in her seat, more so for the physical comfort of free her tail from under her. She still held that shaky grin. “So… what did you see exactly?” It was important to find just what had been seen, after all, Blueblood’s request depended on what others saw in regards to Ser Vincent.

“Vincent, who I believe to be an earthpony… has no muzzle.” Rainbow covered her snout with both hands, staring intently into Twilight’s eyes. “And can do magic!”

“An earthpony that can cast spells?” Her nerves were lifted from shoulders with one single raised brow of scepticism. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought.

“Really, Twi?” Dash retorted, leaning back with a deadpanned stare. She folded her arms beneath her small bust. “You’re more concerned about the earthpony that can -– of course you are.” Her sigh and eye roll brought a grin to the princess’ maw. Dash glanced to Twilight’s cutie mark before turning to face the rest of the table, her three-digited hand reaching for a glass bottle of grape juice rather than the tea.

“That’s really strange,” Fluttershy softly commented after inhaling the scent of her brew, “I didn’t think earthponies could do magic.”

“Of course we can, Shy!” Pinkie chirped, her chipper voice not matching her rigid glare focused on the cake slice. “Watch.” Without removing her gaze, Pinkie Pie reached out behind Fluttershy’s ear, snapped her fingers (startling a gasp from the pegasus) before retrieving a bit.

“Ta da!”

“She means actual magic.” Dash said with a snort.

“Well do you know how Twilight’s magic works?” Pinkie replied, all bubbly voice, still eyes locked on cake.

“Eh, not really.” Rainbow offered a shrug. “Don’t really wanna know either, um, no offence, Twi.”

“It’s fine, Rainbow.” Twilight said with an amused tone.

“Did you know how I did this?” Pinkie added, waving the coin around. “Or how I did this?” She slipped the coin back behind Fluttershy’s ear, but when it returned it was open palmed and empty. The butterscotch pegasus flicked her equine ear, searching with her hands through her mane with a look of confusion.

“It’s gone!” Fluttershy said with a smile whilst Twilight merely squint-glared at the oddity that was Pinkie Pie. She still remembers the day she tried to investigate the Pinkie Sense. And every nonsensical trick of the fuchsia mare. She will always remember.

“Well, no, but—“

“Then why is my ‘magic’ not as magical as Twilight’s magic?” Pinkie inquired, tilting her head. It gave the impression she was conversing with the cake and not her fellow tablemates. “Just ‘cause a pony does it differently, doesn’t make it not magical.”

“By definition, Pinkie, casting spells relies on the weaving of mana through a focal point, the alteration of said mana to impact the physical world, which being the desired effect upon the desired body slash object.” The arcane scholar then pointed, with a tone suited for accusations of heresy, “Sleight of hand cannot be considered casting spells because no magic was involved.”

“…Ta da…”

“Then how did he trap those diamond dogs in the blue growing goo?!” Dash leant into the table. “I’m telling you, the guy’s not normal.”

“Would that be a problem?” Rarity asked with a raised brow, having quietly finished sipping her tea. The cup floated down to the table before the embers of magic dissipated. “He is a kind knight after all. A proper gentlestallion. Should we allow such a disfigurement to cloud our judgement?” Dash immediately raised her hands in defense, her wings twitching.

“Woah, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… you guys didn’t see him move… or his face.”

“Did you?” Twilight pressed, summoning her own cup close to her lips. “Rainbow, you did say you were pretty high up.” She had to know what exactly Dash saw. It was crucial.

“Twi, I don’t know if it’s because you were a unicorn before you got your wings, but pegasi have pretty darn good eyesight. I know what I saw.” Dash harrumphed before downing her drink. “Guy was untouchable and globbing anything he touched.”

“Dash,” Fluttershy’s voice drew everypony’s sight, “did you see him reach for his belt before, er, globbing the dogs?” She fidgeted with the base of her jumper, hands stretching it down to her naked thighs. “He took out a sleeping potion for animals back at my cottage to help Mr Yig Jr, so I thought that he’d have something for diamond dogs too.”

“Yeah… hey, yeah he did!” Dash cried out, smiling as she pointed with her glass bottle to Fluttershy.

“I see where you’re going Fluttershy; Ser Vincent made it a point that he was an alchemist of sorts,” Rarity added, eyes to the ceiling in thought. She looked down to offer a shrug to Dash. “I do recall him fiddling with his belt, from which he withdrew the sleeping potion, before departing… alone.” She bit her lip. “I don’t suppose we should check up on him?”

“No need, the guy sent those still left walking, running.” Dash then proceeded to down the bottle of juice, the wet gulps causing the fashionista to grimace. She brought the bottle down onto the table, burping into a fist before talking further. “Makes sense, but I thought he was a knight, not an alchemist.”

“He’s a combat alchemist.”

Everypony looked to Twilight, who was studying the letter in her hands. Dash leaned in but the princess moved to obscure her sight. With a reluctant sigh she folded the letter.

“He’s pretty tough, Blueblood made sure to point that out. He’s just… well, besides being distinguished amongst the knights he kinda…” Twilight took one look at the letter in her hands before setting her gaze upon the table once more. “Girls, it’s a long explanation so first question: do any of you know what a human is?” She was met with blank stares.

“Sorry, Twi, but it’s not ringing any bells on my end,” Dash answered with a scratch of her head. The rest of the table shared a murmur of agreement. Twilight looked to Rarity.

“What about you, Rarity, you’ve been to Canterlot a few times, you must have heard of them?” The alabaster unicorn was taken back in surprise.

“Me? I’m ever so sorry but I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Really, you never went to Costello’s Cuisine’s?” Twilight prodded further. “It’s one of Canterlot’s must-go-to’s for fine dining. I would have thought somepony would have mentioned it at least once to you.” A spark of recognition flickered in Rarity’s eyes.

“Oh! Why yes, I heard of it, even dined there! Marvelous place! Simply divine!” she replied before leaning over to Fluttershy, a broad smile on her face. “They had foods there that myself, and even a few food critics from Manehatten had never heard of!”

“But… did you see the chef?”

“Well, no but-“ Rarity stopped herself with a gasp. “Are you implying that Ser Vincent is also the master chef of Costello’s?!” A sly smirk sprouted across her maw. “My, what a talented stallion.” She tittered before raising a hand to stop Twilight’s correction. “Twilight, please, I refuse to believe one can be both a chef of a successful five star restaurant and also be a fully dedicated knight.” She brought her cup up to her lips once more. “Though I recognise the name, a Henry Costello runs it, does he not?”

“Glad I didn’t have to clear that up,” Twilight muttered with a smile of her own.

“Um, girls!” Rainbow chipped in, raising a hand and pointing a scowl. “There’s a guy out there handling diamond dogs and we’re just sitting around do nothing.” She focused her attention back to Twilight. “What gives? What does some froufrou restaurant have to do with Vinny?”

“The owner of that restaurant is as Rarity said, Henry Costello, Vincent’s father,” Twilight replied, taking a sip from her own cup. “His mother, Emily Costello, now works at the Canterlot University of Engineering after introducing hydroelectricity and wind farming years ago, alongside pointing out the dangers of burning fossil fuels—basically she stopped us burning too much coal and natural gas which would lead to severe pollution over time and threaten the lives of nearly every pegasus to live in the clouds.” Dash’s jaw dropped but Twilight continued regardless.

“All three of them are humans, not ponies.” With that the group regarded the Princess with renewed interest, even Pinkie was sharing quick glances of confusion alongside her friends. “And Ser Vincent is the only human born into Equestria.”

The door burst open. All eyes fell to the new arrival. An anxious looking Applejack stood in the doorway.

“Hey Twi, um, do you know about the knight that’s been wandering about town, looking for those crates we’re keeping?” After a mechanical nod from Twilight, Applejack quickly glanced back out the door before looking back. “Well I think he’s leading those diamond dogs through Ponyville, and by the looks of the crate their pulling, he might be heading to town hall. The Dogs look like they’ve got the horns of the bull beaten over them, that’s for sure.”

Applejack then shrugged, “Just thought ya should know.”

“Thank you.” Twilight replied in earnest, her expression shifting as she contemplated the severe nature of the situation. She rose to her hooves and trotted over to the door. Looking back, she added with a look of concern, “Girls, meet me at town hall in a few minutes. I need to talk to the knight in private.”

Twilight clenched the letter a little harder when her best friends agreed in uncertain murmurs, including Applejack who stepped aside to let the alicorn take to the air.

“W-woah!”

Shakily. She shakily took to the air with the grace of an inebriated sparrow.

Chapter Nine

Town Hall wasn’t that far and soon a peculiar spectacle greeted her.

Diamond dogs, mummified by health-green bandages, huddled together outside the steps of town hall. They were careful not to block the path leading to the entrance, making attempts to peek over their shoulder. Those that did quickly looked back down to the ground. Ponies gawked at the display, slowly receding into the shops and side alleys of the town. Princess Twilight was certainly baffled by the sight but her natural curiosity soon made her touch down a few hooves away from where the pack sat.

Up close she was met with another mystery: the bandages exhumed an offensive odour, an abominable combination of peppermint, onion and garlic. They seemed to dampen over areas where bruises broke through the fur of the dogs. The smell wasn’t so bad, more along the lines of when Rarity went overboard with her perfume—overbearing, not horrendous.

“Excuse me,” Twilight began, “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?” The trembling dog she addressed merely whimpered, armour clattering to shake his helmet loose over his eyes.

“Nopony nearby,” it managed through chattering teeth.

“Do you need help?” Concern had overridden her caution, her eyes now studying the extent of his injuries. They were worse than at first glance; his paw was practically padded with gauze, his chest was wrapped up, and his nostrils were also stuffed with blooded green bandages. A thin veil of haze surrounded the dampened areas, not stained red, but seeping with a sapphire sparkle.

“How has nopony helped you yet?!” Sure, these were the dogs that kidnapped her friend a few years back, and also tried to force her into slavery, but they’d learnt their lesson and kept to themselves! And here they were, hurt, scared, and abandoned on the doorstep.

“Nopony says he’ll be back, says he get us a new den… if we behave or else.” The dog then clammed up, tucking his knees under his chin and making himself smaller. “Leave us alone. Bandages are magical, feels good, feels better.”

“Wait, there’s a pony called ‘Nopony’?” Twilight asked with an arched brow, looking to the open doors of town hall.

“He’s not a pony.”

Twilight looked back down briefly before peering further into the building. Like a viridian ghost, she saw mostly Vincent’s coat cross her view. She surveyed the hounds, spotting his comrades nodding their heads and mimicking his position. Twenty or so dogs, some not even hurt, but all huddling together.

“I’ll beeee… right back,” she said, raising her hands and heading towards the entrance. “I’m just going to check on Ser Vincent.” They all paused their cowering, ears perking up as they simultaneously glanced up to her with a confused look. “Um, I’m going to talk to Nopony.”

They resumed their trembling.

Inside the town hall she spied four more dogs, in good condition given the lack of bandages, all handling a short, fat crate. They were robust creatures, easily hauling their load beside its brethren by the stage. She spotted Mayor Mare, her mask of steel betrayed by the nervous swishing of her tail and her eyes zipping between the dogs to the rhythm of a nervous hoof tap. The dogs barely glanced to her or Twilight given who else was in the room. Vincent stood close to the stage, his blank gaze locked onto the labourers.

The knight was standing tall beside a familiar, if somewhat pulverised, face. Rover, the leader of the den, who had promised to never bother Ponyville again, stood beside Vincent perhaps weighed down the heaviest by these odd jade strips. She approached with uncertainty touching her features, at the same time the knight and dog were talking.

“So will we be safe?” Rover asked, his gruff voice gone nasally due to his stuffed nose.

“The Diamond Reserve was set up for exactly this,” Vincent said plainly, his voice warming, “An outstanding size of land for Diamond Dogs to work together whilst being protected by Princess Celestia.”

“So we dig for ponies?” Rover’s expression turned sour. “We become slaves!”

“Some of you will become employees. Yes, if you find any metals from the incredibly short list, then they’re ours. Anything else is yours to keep and sell, on top of you getting a wage of course.” For the first time, Ser Vincent craned his neck to peer down to the shoulder high dog. “Official Equestrian citizenship being the first perk of course, Caninite.” To that, Rover wilted.

“You know?”

“The accent and extensive tunnel network: you’ve been here long enough and never picked up a different one.” With that, he turned to look back to the dogs as they planted the crate onto the floor. It was probably this that creeped Twilight out when he spoke directly to her without directly looking to her. “Good evening, Princess Twilight, did you receive Miss Dash’s message?”

Before she replied she already noticed something off. When he first met her, he was polite and professional, going down to his knee in a signature greeting of guard to princess. Of respect. Past that, he stood to attention, fist on heart and looking directly to her. Granted, there were diamond dogs in the room, so that was easy to let go, but the fact that Ser Vincent had been executing every formality to maintain polite and respectable presentation made it clear when he wasn’t like he was now. He seemed to be slouching against the stage and barely putting any effort in.

“Yes, eventually Rainbow managed to relay exactly what you had said and I sent the letter half an hour ago.” Twilight arched a brow as she glanced to the now statuesque dogs. “I guess everything turned out well for you, huh?”

He gave a slow, low nod. “Yes. I’m sad to say negotiations were tenser than I’d like but I’ve managed to convince Rover’s pack to relocate to a safer and much more enriching environment.” He still hadn’t turned to face her, or Rover. It was getting to her. “May I ask you to send our helpers outside?”

“You four!” Rover’s bark startled the mayor who had kept to herself as the dog addressed his subordinates. “Get out!” They obliged, their lanky forms weighed down by loss. As soon as they left Miss Mare released a loud sigh, resting her palm on her forehead.

“I’m so sorry to trouble you like this, Miss Mare. I understand if it was a bit sudden.” Vincent certainly sounded sincere enough.

“No, no it’s fine,” she replied with a weak smile. “I’ll let Princess Twilight handle things from here.” With that she sluggishly trudged into her office. Twilight gave Rover a reassuring glance, kind eyes meeting his tired ones.

“Rover, could you leave me and Ser Vincent alone for a while—we have things to discuss, and maybe you should help reassure your friends.” He glanced between the princess and the forest garbed figure beside him before the dog instantly limped off as fast as he could.

“Thank you, Sparkle Pony! I will tell my pack about that place, Nopony!” Rover then disappeared shutting the doors behind him and leaving the princess and the knight alone together. Vincent didn’t look to her at first, nor did she wish for eye-to-hood contact; Twilight had spied how he was supporting himself on the stage with his left arm behind his back.

“Did you tell him about what you are?” Straight to the point, though she kept her voice more curious than blunt. “Ser Nopony?” She bore a faint grin as he mechanically turned to face her, a bemused brow rising.

“A rare few call me by that.” He tilted his head, a smirk creeping into his tone. “First heard it from a lovely young bitch further east, very energetic, I imagine her and Mis- erm, Pinkie Pie would get along swimmingly.” Twilight was briefly lost until she recalled that female diamond dogs of respectable social standing are known as ‘bitches’, or ladies to pair it with an Equestrian term.

“It seems to be the easiest thing to stick compared to my other titles.”

“Such as…”

“A Solaris Knight.”

“Is that only what you say you are?” Twilight asked, her grip tightening on the letter in her hand.

“Am I not?” he replied before shaking his head. His muzzle lifted, indicating he was glancing past her. “When I hear them call me ‘The Nopony’ I don’t get excited. It only means that I’ve made a mistake in diplomacy or that I’ve ended up scaring somepony.” His gaze fell back down to Twilight. She simply stared back with a studious glint in her eye. She eyed him up and down as she moved to stand beside the stage, propping herself up to sit at a height that matched his.

“I’m guessing negotiations didn’t go in their favour,” she said. He turned, though seemingly with difficulty and never taking his gloved hand off the stage. Once again she was met with a proud tone.

“On the contrary, though rough in the beginning I not only completed my mission, but hopefully furthered diamond dogs and pony relationships.”

“By beating the snot out of them?” Twilight commented with an incredulous look.

“In time Rover will thank me.” Vincent’s retort came tinged with ice, “Or at the least not cause trouble. It has towns that helps diamond dogs integrate into Equestrian society, ran by a dog mayor.” Again, his voice shifted into pleasant all too easily… almost chipper by this point.

“The task of collecting the crates is complete, my mission is a success, and on the way I offered a pack of diamond dogs a chance at a better way of life.” He titled his head and she could feel his gaze studying her, “It’s only not a resounding success due to a minor scuffle.”

“So what do you plan on doing now that you’re done, do you have down time?” Her inquiry was met a pregnant pause, an uneasy silence filling the air between them.

“I always rest until I’m needed.” With her letter on her mind, she pounced at this opportunity.

“Well given that your arm’s straining to keep you standing, you must be needing to rest pretty soon then, huh?” She leant back and pointed a stare towards the limb. It was practically shaking like a tree in a storm. “Rainbow saw you fighting out there,” Twilight stated with a small frown. He was still. A statue of some armoured wanderer dusted and dirtied by time, clawed and chewed through experience, and staring blankly back. The mask made it difficult to even try and imagine what expression he had as silence polluted the space between them. Was he angry? Was he worried? Scared? Furious?

No. The mask only told her he was coldly indifferent to it, and yet, showed that he wasn’t at the same time. He lost the warmth to his voice.

“And… what does Miss Dash have to say about it?”

“She thinks you lost your muzzle,” she replied with a wry grin. He burst out laughing, his booming chuckle echoing in his mask. He couldn’t remain standing anymore and slumped against the stage whilst chuckling. Twilight simply smiled as he tittered off, his head shaking before he looked up to her.

“That is certainly a first for the few who actually commented, heh.” He struggled to push himself up, and despite his protests, Twilight assisted with support. “Thank you.” At full height he looked down to her, noting the return of her pitiful look. It unnerved him.

“Is this,” she began whilst gesturing around his hood and mask, “really necessary?” She glanced down to his charred glove, counting the three fingers and knowing it was wrong.

“Oh, absolutely,” Vincent replied simply, shrugging in a blasé fashion, “It greatly helps earns the trust of the locals compared to without it. Before I’d have to wait an entire day to verify my knighthood.” He didn’t like how, alongside her pitying stare, she winced and her ears wilted.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“I experienced it, Princess Twilight Sparkle, I know that without this mask ponies are not willing to cooperate as much as with it. I have years’ worth of evidence supporting this.” His reply came as he stood tall, arms behind his back and him returning to the image of professionalism. “I won’t let such a thing hinder my duty, and now it seems to be a trivial matter thanks to this solution.”

Ser Vincent watched as she remind quiet, her calculating gaze losing focus on him. So Miss Dash had seen him? That was, well…

‘Disturbing. You incompetent twit, you didn’t need take your mask off!’ It was natural to sound sincere, with the slip of his voice he was imposing, and with all of his honeyed words and warm syllables, his guttural growls and indifferent threats, Ser Vincent could relay any mood and atmosphere that his looks could not. He could lie to their face without a single clue to his deception.

The mask was his shell for he knew himself he was too raw beneath it.

‘I do hope Miss Dash wasn’t too shocked.’ Body language was key for him; a tilt of the head conveyed his intrigue, an open stance like he was currently displaying left him looking open to all and honest, and even crossing his arms helped showed following a road further would lead to trouble.

“Look, Vincent-“

“I worked hard for the full title, Twilight Sparkle… please don’t forget that.”

“NOPONY!” Immediately the princess and the knight looked to the door, finding Rover shaking in the doorway. He was terrified. “Ogres! They’re here.”

“What?!” Ser Vincent strode towards the exit with a surprising speed for one still recovering. Not that Twilight took notice as she trotted alongside the knight, eyes wide.

“Ogres? Why in Equestria are they here?” Her inquiry was met with Vincent turning his head slightly as he reached the door.

“They wanted the gems the dogs were mining, so in order to fend them off, Rover wanted to take the weapons and armours.” Rover shuffled out the way as Vincent quickly departed, Twilight not far behind. “He also said they arrived at night.”

“Mostly, mostly at night I said,” Rover quickly pointed out with a furred finger from his paw. Neither Vincent nor Twilight looked to him as they both locked onto four grotesque figures heading towards them.

Ogres. Often red skinned and ripe with putrid odour, they were creatures obsessed with precious stones and simple pleasures. Tribal warfare. Pillaging. And other unmentionables. Only the strongest survived the infighting amongst their clustered numbers, leading to not one leader to follow but numerous bands of between four to ten grizzled beasts roaming the lands.

They were definitely enjoying the fear they enticed, rotten teeth gleaming in malicious grins pointed to fleeing ponies. They were knotted with muscle, garbed in poorly stitched leather and each of the four sported a weighted weapon of sort. Fat in the guts and leering like apes, Vincent’s hidden gaze locked onto the only one focusing on him.

Unlike his followers who snarled and belched at retreating locals, this one bore a sadistic smile for the knight. Rusted armour compressed his girth, thick toes shooting out tattered boots. It’s short, round head was capped by an old guard helm, misshapen to fit. The strong jaw boasted a fiery beard, plaited in perhaps the only form of sophistication ogres possessed. A barbed club, easily recognised as a short beaten tree stump, rested across his shoulders, one dirtied finger pointing solely to the knight.

“I seem to be meeting all kinds of interesting beings today,” Vincent remarked wryly, turning to face Twilight after a single step. His tone cast aside any mirth, coming out solid and unweathering with each command.

“Princess Twilight, I need you to look after these dogs whilst I attend to this matter.” She gave a double take before pointing a potent stare of disbelief straight at the knight. She spluttered as her attention snapped between him and the creeping ogres.

“This is not the time for jokes!” she almost screeched, a fierce scowl taking her features as she prodded his chest. “You are in no condition to take on these guys!” To her surprise, Vincent stepped forward, uncomfortably close as he peered down to her.

“Protocol states that all members of royalty are to be secured as a priority, and seeing as I lack reinforcements, I have to ensure you are kept out of danger before confronting them and diffusing this situation safely for others.” He clamped his hands onto her shoulders, his tone stern and harsh. “Those guards that arrive should spook them when they get here soon, it shouldn’t be too long, I just need to keep this lot distracted.” She felt his grip tighten ever so slightly, enticing a sense of hidden strength but mostly discomfort.

“And if things go wrong?” She fired back a burning glare, attempting to break his hold physically. She didn’t stand a chance. “What then? You get hurt for nothing.” When her horn glistened he raised his hands and proceeded to step back. She cancelled the teleportation spell.

“It’s my job, you have responsibilities, duties you will live to uphold.” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, on the empty path lined with quivering dogs. “This what guards and princesses do, and knights follow the exact same thing. Contain them with a shield spell, the Prince Captain of the guard boasted that you picked one up from him easily enough. I’ll try to lead them out of town.” When he turned to quickly stride toward those approaching, Princess Twilight stopped at the bottom of the steps.

“If I can stop them then why are you trying?!” she yelled, to which he glanced over his shoulder, still moving to intercept.

“In case you can’t and because I know I can! Or because if I can’t you can keep them at bay long enough. Keep anyone else out of this, Princess! This is what the guards and knights are for!” He barked back. With great reluctance, and mostly because the dogs were looking to her with injured stares, she held back with wrecked nerves and a face of thunder.

Ser Vincent rolled his head on his shoulder, steadying his breathing as he approached. He could smell them already, despite the mask, and got a good look at their weapons: one bearing a claymore, one with chains wrapped around his knuckles, and a halberd alongside Mr. Tree Stump. His aches were gone the moment he met them halfway.

They were a good two heads taller than he and half a body thicker. They all grinned down but the three exchanging dark chuckles chose to stay behind the smirking brute who stepped forth. He bent over, bearing broken teeth through an ugly smile.

“You got our mutts,” the ogre said with rancid breath. His filthy face shifted to a frown. “That’s bad for you.” His friends nodded in agreement. “Me thinks you give them back.” He reached out, “Now.” He tried to shove Ser Vincent with back hand to the chest, but only achieve moving him half a step and smearing dirt on his rustling armour. There was a sting in his knuckles that made the brute growl.

“I’m a knight, you know,” Vincent said plainly. “This town is close to more guards, acting tough won’t do you anygood here.”

“More ponies to play with,” the halberd ogre commented, earning a general grunt of agreement from the others. The lead ogre pursed his lips and nodded.

“Ponies lose and we still take dogs, get more gems,” he said as he shifted the weight of the stump resting across his shoulders. It certainly drew Ser Vincent’s attention, as did the guard helmet.

“We won’t lose,” he said, calmly. “The den’s all yours now.” Perhaps making the ogres see some opportunity in the situation would prevent conflict? Ser Vincent could trap them in the caves, delaying them before even more guards came to detain them. “See, the dogs are leaving now, and they’ve already done most of the work.”

He tilted his head, secretly pleased at how the ogre had now raised a bald brow. That meant intrigue, it meant progress.

“Just think of all those gems you’re leaving unguarded right now.” He stepped back, folding his arms and looking past them to where they had come from. “Can you really afford not to start setting up home already?”

The ogre scratched his chin before playing with his plaited beard, a plump blue tongue licking his pursed lips. It grumbled as it stared into the heavens, its blank mind focusing on the empty sky. They were far from clever creatures, in fact, they were the only ones to try and take over a dragon’s hoard, but surely this was too good an offer to miss?

“But dogs can do more work,” the ogre put forth, scowling and prodding the knight in the chest. He didn’t budge again and it earned a more feral growl.

“Boss, look, them’s ponies looking for trouble,” an ogre on the far left was keen to point out, raising the long thick sword easily with one hand.

It was a brief moment, where he turned to face whomever was distracting the volatile beasts. If his mind had not been so worn and weary, had his focus not tunnelled onto whatever he faced, and was still alert to his surroundings, he never would have. He spotted Miss Applejack holding Miss Dash back, the rest of the Elements assisting the orange mare in placating their friend.

“More like fun if ya askin’ me! Haha!” The moment the lead ogre roared, Vincent turned to face him, a glow returning to his eyes.

He didn’t register the unstoppable left hook until his was lifted airborne.

He could taste the pain, he could smell the copper of crimson, and he could feel the pressure of his mask collapsing under the raw strength of the blow. He had no thoughts as his breath escaped him, save for how cool the air was as it cloaked his face. He could see the sky… his blood… and the fragments of his shattered mask.

With an agonised pirouette, Ser Vincent, the Solaris Knight, landed face first onto the cobbled street amidst the broken remains of his mask, exposed for all to see. He laid there for the moment, weak, limp, tired and stunned. The few seconds that crept by were like minutes as he remained exposed and vulnerable, half his vision foggy and the good portion focused on a large piece of metallic muzzle resting beside him. The last thing Blue Blood said to him echoed in his mind.

‘Already?! Ser Vincent, the last time you actually stopped to rest in your home was over a month ago! These train ride naps can’t be for you. You’re getting less than five hours at a time! Fine. Be that way. It’s should be easy enough, see you before the evening starts, and yes, you will be expected to accompany me to the opera! It's on your head.’

He lay there now overwhelmed by exhaustion he had been keeping at bay, more than what he had previously admitted to. He was catching up with the world, his body pushing thrugh a barricade that blocked his nerves. His arms twitched as he tried to push himself up, time being buried under the flood of fatigue rushing through him.

Then he heard a desperate shriek. And malachite eyes turned to gold.

Chapter Ten

The Elements of Harmony each stared at the downed knight, a deafening silence quickly filling the air.

Expressions of shock took them, their frozen forms locked as they were; Fluttershy and Rarity clamped their gasping maws with their furred hands, horror glistening in both their eyes; Pinkie held onto the cake, jaw dropped and ears flat. Twilight could see the shattered remained of the mask, the letter slipping from her grasp as worry rapidly poisoned her mind—Vincent wasn’t moving. The deep, howling laugh of the lead ogre shook Rainbow from her reverie. She managed to escape Applejack’s stunned grasp, a fire in her eye and a fierce growl leaving her muzzle.

Like a rainbow-trailing rocket she took off.

“Hey, butt breathe!” she exclaimed moments away from contact. “Beat it!”

She pulled up into a rising somersault, her hoof swinging out to strike the chin of the scarlet brute. A meaty smack resonated through the air, both parties shirking back.

“OW ow wow ow!” Rainbow repeated, the severe pain in her hoof subsiding in her grasp as she fluttered about in the air. She wasn’t one for horseshoes but at a time like this they would have helped. The ogre groaned, his once golden helm askew as he was supported by his fellow marauders. He still kept the club on his shoulders.

“Oi!” His scowl would melt ice but for now would draw Dash’s attention. He sneered up to her, reaching out to tap his partner on the shoulder, the one with chains wrapped around his knuckles. “Bring ‘er down and rip ‘er wings off!” He then looked to face his peers with the same cruel smirk.

“Get the rest, I got purple!”

With that, the ogre trudged toward Twilight, moving his thick arm to let the club stump fall to his side. It struck with a thunderous boom, carving into the earth as he dragged it towards her, past the struggling body of Vincent.

“Oh no you don’t!” Rainbow attempted a second strike, wings flared, but had to narrowly dodge a whip of a metal chain. “Woah!”

She shifted back swiftly enough, finding the shortest of the ogres whipping the chain back in his right hand. Other than the sadistic grin its expression was rather vacant, room for one thing only: tearing Dash out the sky with the utmost glee.

“You wit’ me pony!” With a terrible roar it sent another lash of the chain towards her, and again she dodged. It unleashed a metallic slap against the air as Dash flanked him, eager to land a solid punch. She aborted when he whipped the chain back towards her, missing her legs. The two entered a dangerous game, the winner being whomever wasn’t struck. One clip of the wing, a single blow to her stomach, a moment snared in its metallic coil and she would be done for. All the while he laughed and laughed.

The halberdier and the claymore ogre steadily crept upon the other girls, the sword bearing thug focused on Pinkie and Fluttershy. As he plodded along, she took to quivering behind Pinkie who still stood with her jaw agape but eyes locked onto the red skinned bandit.

“Pinkie! W-we got to help Ser Vincent!” Meek as she was, Fluttershy knew he was hurt bad. He’d lost his mask, and if what Rainbow had said was true, then his damaged muzzle might be in really, really bad shape. She was mostly holding onto Pinkie for support. Yeah.

“Don’t worry, Shy, while I got this.” Pinkie replied, chipper and turning to face the quaking pegasus. She thrusted the napkin-wrapped cake slice into Shy’s hand before hopping back. “You keep hold of that!”

“Wait, Pinkie!”

Fluttershy’s protest fell on deaf ears as Pinkie skipped up to the ogre, already preparing a mighty sweep. With every bounce she sniffed the air.

“Pee-yew, that’s nasty!” She blanched as she hopped over a swift swing. He wasn’t skilled with the halberd, he simply liked the idea of a really long sword his size, so chopping was all the dim-witted goliath knew. Side-ways chops were good against knees, but not against this pink pony.

“Is that you? Ew, you smell like Pound Cake’s diapers, or timber wolf breath, or Opal’s litter box…”

The down chops were great against logs, but not against side-stepping pink ponies. Her voice was grating against his ear nubs, fizzy with sugary acidity. Her sweetness burned and the embers summoned a guttural growl.

“Maybe twice as bad as extra burnt baked bads, or three times as bad as Mr Cake’s gym clothes, ooh! I know, maybe five times as bad as twice as bad as--”

“Shuddup!” He roared once again, bringing the sword down hard. Pinkie yelped as she slipped to the side, a lock of her tail being sliced off as the claymore carved into the earth.

“Hey, be careful with that!” she reprimanded, hands on hips and a stern glare pointing up to the sneering thug.

As Fluttershy tried to creep by, past her was Applejack who was attempting to wrestle the halberd away from the iron grip of the looming ogre. Between the monstrous strength and the filthy stench of never-washed skin, the spirited earth pony was struggling to keep him preoccupied. Alas, Applejack was a mare in her prime, a toiling farmer whose hard work nearly made her match for the ogre.

That was where Rarity helped; from the outskirts she made use of her very refined magic. Her manipulation of numerous objects through telekinesis was unmatched, even by Twilight, though the fashionista herself couldn’t lift a water tower, she could lift a total number of objects that reached into the double figures. Though she could benefit from a large cart or three. Years of working in the boutique, cutting close to deadlines for important clients, meant that she could launch stones like arrows as easily she could fire thread through numerous needles.

The two ponies easily kept the ogre in check, whittling him down, but they were only slowly making progress when he didn’t try to kick out at Applejack or swing her into the path of a pebble about to strike him.

As for Twilight she was facing a problem of her own. The dogs had all retreated close to the entrance of the town hall, Rover quivering behind her. She couldn’t abandon them, but at the same time, the ogre was making it clear it was either her or them based solely on whoever was in his way. She tried to grip him in her magical grasp, sparks of lavender washing over him.

The problem came from the helmet. The ogre strolling up towards her, an excited pep to his steps, merely grinned as her magic slipped off his form. His buckled helm would shake upon head when her magic touched it, her spell recoiling like a hand too close to a flame.

‘It’s a guard helmet so it’s dispelling my attempts to grasp him.’ She realised all too late. Before she knew it he was a few steps away.

“I’m warning you, stop!” she commanded. He ignored her and raised his club high above his head and brought it down. Though frightfully quick, the Element of Magic was quicker, a shield popping into existence to encase herself, the dogs, and town hall.

The magenta barrier shuddered upon contact and the ogre staggering back. It seemed that even with all his strength he could barely crack it, and given the piercing pain in her head, it was one hell of a blow. But she remained steadfast, eyes wincing beneath a shimmering horn glistening with power.

The situation looked bleak: Rainbow hadn’t gotten any closer, Fluttershy was tip-toeing between the claymore ogre infuriated by Pinkie’s antics and the constantly moving halberd ogre that crossed her path and made her retreat as he and Applejack fought for supremacy.

Boom!

The thunder in her head came from the second blow from the lead ogre’s massive club, raw unrestrained strength causing the barrier to shudder.

Boom!

He wasn’t happy, especially when chips of timber started to shed. His mood changed when the faintest of spider webbed cracks surfaced on her shield.

Boom!

Princess Twilight looked desperately to Ser Vincent, who struggled to push himself up. His arms wavered and shook, no amount of effort ever being enough. She had been gazing between him and a courageous, if not terrified looking Fluttershy, who was desperately trying to slip through.

That’s when she had realised the ogre hadn’t struck for a while.

A quick glance saw that he was rushing to Rarity, who was still preoccupied with firing off stones at blistering speeds. She stood firm, sharp sapphire eyes searching the ground before picking out weaknesses in the halberdier’s thick armour.

“Rarity!”

Twilight’s cry managed to reach her friend’s twitching ears in time, and with a shrill shriek, she fell onto her backside in an attempt to escape the downward arc of the tree stump. The ogre roared with delight even as he never struck home, instead denting the ground as the dressed mare scurried back.

She wouldn’t be able to escape his next earth shattering blow, and as he raised his club one more, Twilight felt her heart stop, blood freezing as Rarity raised her hands to shield herself, unleashing another desperate scream.

“No!” Twilight cried, wide eyed in terror.

She barely blinked before something large and viridian pounced into the scene just as the club came crashing down.

Rarity only heard the clatter of metal as her entire body shifted to the side, her vision blurring as she was forcibly rolled away. A tight embrace gripped her even for the few seconds after she came to a stop.

Warmth. She felt warm and smelt a musk, her hands pressing against the familiar contours of a lapel a fashion designer such as her would come accustomed to. An odd spice slipped into the scent, dissipating as she dizzily raised to sit up. She felt hands slip from the shoulders of her dress, but her focus was on the ogre a considerable distance from where she was.

“Oh thank heavens you saved me,” she said whilst breathing out, a smile of great gratitude gracing her maw.

“I’m not done yet, Miss Rarity. Get off,” came the masculine response. She was certain that perhaps one of her friends had saved her. Needless to say when she looked down she was not prepared for what she saw. In fact, nothing in the world could have prepared her for that cold stare.

With gritted teeth, the creature strained to lift his head. An earthly hood had fallen back and its eyes were alive with a furious golden glow.

Flat faced was a misleading description, but apt; strong cheeks and rounded chin surrounded thin lips, a short nose peaking from below his intense stare. The eye were braziers of magic, seeming to be deeply socketed due to the dark rings barely visible through wisps of mana. His messy, brown mane was short and he bore a shadow of facial hair.

What made this creature worse were the wounds scabbing over. Thin strips of crimson littered the surface, as if carelessly ticked into existence. A slight swelling appeared beneath the left eye, a long narrow cut trailing from a nostril to across the corner of the mouth. She could see fragments of metal nestled in some of the injuries.

Naturally she screamed.

His hurt face took on a harsh scowl, anger stretching the features and birthing a feral growl and canine snarl. Teeth, mostly blunt but with four that were severely sharp, and so out of place. Wounds working over time to heal began to reopen as she was rolled over, pinned down.

“Dear Celestia, don’t hurt-“ The voice finally became familiar. “Me?” She had finished weakly, her realisation not being voiced under the vicious glare that weighed more than the knight keeping her in place.

“Don’t interfere.” Yes, she heard that soft baritone before, but without that mask it was sharp. His tone was without emotion and yet he still fired a stare that burrowed into her. He glanced over his shoulder, the glow of his eyes blinking out and in as he rose to tower over her.

“Oi!” He barked, a voice of thunder and savage rage. She could see the corner of his lips twitch like the jowls of a feral bear. He was holding back as the lead ogre turned his attention to him. “I warned you.”

Hand on chest, terrified eyes watched as the knight took measured steps away from Rarity. She watched him stop just as the ogre began to migrate towards him.

“Wait just one second,” he then said, causing the brute to halt, tilting his head. Rarity saw Ser Vincent, as hard as it was to believe it was him, glance over his shoulder to her. “Get your friends out of my way,” he commanded.

“Wait- what?” she asked, still in shock.

“Now!” he yelled.

She spotted the ogre lunge at him with that barbaric club swung high. Before she could call out, Ser Vincent surged forth with a burst of speed. He caught the club with his right hand, simultaneously delivering a blow to the gut that stopped the brute in his tracks. She watched the ogre wheeze, eyes almost popping out of their socket as Vincent looked down to lower his voice and speak directly into his ear.

“Stay here. I’m coming back for you.” With that he cast the ogre aside, club and all, as one would easily discard a broken mannequin.

Rarity’s mind was still in shock—who could have guessed in a million years that that was what he would look like under the mask? She watched him charge over to halberd ogre, starting to overpower Applejack without her help. Then she spotted her shaking pegasus friend.

“Fluttershy, come here quick!”

Applejack had just been thrown to the ground, her grip having slipped after the ogre butted heads with her. She could feel the pain circling above her brow, pooling and marking the start of a swelling. The brute put a boot firmly onto her tail, cruelly grinning as he arced his weapon back as one would before a golf swing.

“Hehehe, I win,” he gloated. Applejack could only snort as she tried to scurry back, priming a patented ‘Sweet-Apple-Harvesting’ kick for his shins.

That was when a familiar viridian shape swooped in. He ducked under the raised arm of the ogre, arriving low as he stood defensively over Applejack. One second she saw empty space, the next it was filled with the knight stopping the ogre in his tracks.

The brute head-butted the knight, both wavering and trembling after the impact. The ogre bore a crimson smear on his forehead, dazed tiny eyes rolling as the knight shakily cocked his left fist back before delivering a devastating blow to the armoured abdomen.

The brute flinched, freeing Applejack’s tail as he staggered back. She seized the moment and crawled away as the knight delivered a right hook that sent the ogre to his knees, the viridian saviour shifting his weight to the side. He then snapped his waist as she spun round, lifting a boot and sending it into the ogre’s now hip level arms.

As he completed the rotation, she watched as the brute fell to the side yelping in agony and as Vincent was now standing to face down at her, halberd caught in hand.

“Much obliged there… Ser… Knight?”

She hadn’t noticed until she looked up, but once she did, she remembered one thing. That Rainbow was right: he didn’t have a muzzle. Blood seeped from reopened wounds, heavily from corner of his mouth. It dripped onto the cloth extending from his mantle to cover his neck. He already looked a touch miffed, but as she stared back up to him his expression darkened with an offended sneer.

“Applejack, get your friends out of the way.” His voice did not match his face, not by a long shot. He looked as if he should have frothing with venomous commands and yet he spoke as if he should be as placating as a friend and leading her out of a storm. He broke the halberd across his knee, the business quarter of the weapon being tossed to the side. “That means Pinkie Pie.”

“Huh? Vincent, is that you?” She peered up to his glowing eyes, ignoring the disbelieving shake of his head and eye roll.

“I don’t have time for this! Move!” He commanded with a hard nod of the head. Steadily she rose to her hooves as he cocked the pole back before letting it fly. She looked just in time to see it strike the chain wielding thug in the back of the knee, crippling him. “Rainbow, get out of there.”

“I knew you didn’t have a muzzle!”

Applejack could hear the brewing rage bubbling up through the guttural growl that escaped the knight. Well, she thought it was the knight. She recognised the coat, the charred right hand glove and scaled armour beneath. Glancing back she noticed him reach for his belt. He retrieved a small glass vial, filled with oozing granite, and crushed in his left palm.

“You best ground her before the ogre does, Miss Applejack,” he said before racing past her.

The claymore ogre was his next target and was he prepared. He kept his left hand in a fist, feeling it petrify as grey consumed it.

Flesh, armour, and fabric would become solid stone, the alchemicaly induced magical phenomena akin to how cockatrice’s snared their still living prey. A thick shell of rock would put the muscle and bone in a form of stasis. It was an incredibly discomforting sensation, like someone wrapping one’s hand too tightly, pins and needles washing up his forearm like a tidal wave.

“Pinkie Pie!” Vincent called, catching the jubilant eye of the pink mare as she cartwheeled away. The barbarian bearing the claymore spun to face him too.

“Wow, you said my name that time!”

“Move!” With a crisp salute she cartwheeled further away as the ogre raised his weapon towards him.

He made for a horizontal swing, Vincent stopping just shy of its reach. Immediately he closed the distance, stopping to raise a stone arm to parry the return swing of the weighted blade. The ogre was surprisingly quickly, volleying slash after slash.

Vincent resorted to using his right hand, the keeping the charred glove high enough in the air for the blade to strike his forearm. The bracer with his badge on was beneath the sleeve, even without it, his scaled armour would be enough to fend off blows.

The tough material that made for the sleeve of his coat did not fare as well; the ogre quickly learnt that it he could inflict more painful punishment if he struck Vincent’s right side rather than the left, as that was the one that was not numbed.

Intensely glowing eyes caught every swift movement as if they were telegraphed. With every wince, blunt pain resonated within Vincent’s arm every time he blocked.

That meant the barbarian wasn’t focused on his left side.

A dizzying strike, like a viper’s bite, landed on the cheek of the ogre. The stoned fist cocked back further upon return, launching forth to land a gut shot. Instinctively the ogre moved one hand to cover the wounded area, leaving the weighted sword in the other.

Blood trickled once more off his chin as Vincent used his right hand to snare the wrist of the sword wielding hand. Another devastating left, this time striking the arm, resulted in the claymore clattering to the ground.

He didn’t let up. Vincent twisted the burly arm until he was behind the ogre, restraining him with his own arm pressed against his back. The knight forced the brute onto his kness.

A rustle of metal caught his attention and above a chain wrapped around his stone wrist. He stood still as it became taught, tugging against him as he held a restrained ogre in his other hand. When he attempted to get to his feet, Ser Vincent’s boot shot out to land squarely in his back.

With the sword wielder taken care of for now Vincent was free to deal with the chain using ogre. Quickly, he grabbed onto the chain and rushed down. As with the dogs, Vincent’s world bore diluted colours, coming to life where anything moved.

So throughout it all, whenever these bandits twitched a muscle, Vincent noticed as its burst of colour that drew his eye. So when the ogre launched a second chain from his other hand, the knight managed to move his head out of the way of the silver whip.

As soon as he was on him he could spot the surprise spread across the ogre’s grimy features, wide eyed terror taking hold as the ogre swung blindly. Vincent ducked under, his coat fluttering as he rose back up with his stone arm extended out to the side.

He caught the thug across his chest and under the arm, making it easy to lift him into the air before slamming him back down into the earth. Even if he wasn’t dazed and confused, the ogre wouldn’t have been able to comprehend the face that stared coldly down to him, nor could he dodge the boot that would come crashing down on his forehead.

It was the last confusing thing he saw before he was knocked out.

Ser Vincent heard him before he saw him, though those two instances were split seconds apart. Spinning around he was bombarded by information. First and foremost was the halberd ogre, injured and charging towards him with the broken off axe head in his thick hand. Secondly was Rainbow Dash and Applejack arguing animatedly as the others looked on, their colours bright against the washed out background.

The ogre was using the broken quarter of the halberd as a hatchet, attempting to slash him with the blade tip or pierce Vincent with the pick of the axe head. Vincent would have none of it.

With the ease born of years of practice, Ser Vincent retrieved a small blue pellet from his belt with his right hand. He leapt back to gain considerable distance, ducking low and moving his arms out wide.

The ogre took the bait, reaching out with his unarmed hand whilst raising the impromptu hatchet in the other. Vincent burst forth, pouncing with enough force to topple the brute. After spearing him to the ground, it was decided that he was crush the pellet against the ogre’s chest and be done with it.

Before that he’d beat three vicious blows into the ogres face.

When the red skin split on the cheek, lip, jaw, and chin, Vincent brought his right hand down hard and flat. He felt the pellet crush beneath him, a heat escaping as the object began to oxidise and expand.

He quickly rose to full height, stepping back to watch as a blue ooze began to grow across the armoured chest of the groaning ogre. It coated his shoulders and hips, solidifying to severely restrain his movements in mere moments.

Ser Vincent migrated towards the town hall, eyes locked on the leader of the ogres. He was still keeled over on his knees. He had kept his anger in check, he had prevented his rage from steering his action, and he had kept a fury born of humiliation in control because that was what knights had to do. His fist was now a weapon of frightful potential: a broken rib could puncture a lung and a strong enough blow to the head would do more than cause a concussion.

Still didn’t make him feel any less annoyed as he approached.

“Vincent!”

Princess Twilight shook him from his dark thoughts, his expression dramatically shifting to bewilderment. She could see the light of his eyes receding, the glow dying out as he looked taken back. She couldn’t believe what she had witnessed; one minute the knight had been downed the next he had singlehandedly beaten each ogre.

When his faced settled on a more tamed frown, she saw that he didn’t exactly look any better than his enemies at this point. More of victor through being the last stallion standing, really. Or human.

“Are you alright? You look like you need stitches.”

“Princess Twilight, after I group these together, use the chain to bind them,” he stated, his voice firm and unwavering. He released a tired sigh, swaying slightly as he strolled past. “I think you can hold them better than I can.”

“But what about—“ She was cut off by his entire form turning around to face her, a withering stare burning into her.

“Listen, the sooner this is done, the sooner I can get back home, and the sooner I’ll be out of here.” She heard something waver in his stern voice, not quite being able to put her finger on it. She could see a glimmer of green creeping into those eyes as the light of golden magic began departing. “Don’t argue, secure them before they do something stupid.”

Only slightly annoyed by his attitude, Twilight scowled as she turned away to scan for the chains. Her magic easily enveloped the downed ogres, their moans of protest and aches accompanying them as she set them in front of her.

Vincent marched over to the final ogre, the one that struck a blow against him. He brought his petrified fist up, already seeing flecks of spent stone peeling away.

The magic had ran its course, as intended. A great benefit of alchemy over magic spells was the degree of manipulation one could have with the potion, generating liquid spells that could be permanent or last minutes at time. Trouble was they could possibly be side effects not found with cast spells due to the chemicals and plants involved, such as was the case with ‘Petrify’.

The spell sprouted from the epidermal layer of whatever it coated, meaning that for every time he applied it to his gloves, they would wear away at a faster rate. Still, he could use it a few hundred times before completely destroying a set of gloves. Heck, so long as not overused it could be applied to skin. It was due to his line of work that there were also other factors accelerating glove deterioration.

‘Best clean myself off, starting with this mess.’

The ogre had by now struggled to his feet. His back was to Vincent, slightly hunched over. As soon as Vincent was upon him he reached up to his head with his right hand, hooking both fingers under the helmet.

It peeled off smoothly largely due to how it had been misshapen to fit. Without resistance he had taken away the only thing stopping the princess from suppressing the ogre and thrown it to the side. He’d still need to be sure.

Vincent primed his left fist as the leading bandit spun around, satisfied when he saw the indignant anger on his face turn to fearful surprise. He unleashed a final left hook, the feeling returning to his hand as a meaty smack resonated in the air. He also felt something snap, fortunately not his hand.

He didn’t bother looking to the writhing form of the ogre, instead a studious stare locking onto his now free left hand. As chunks of stone fell amidst grey clouds, he saw what damage had been done. The primary finger of the glove had lost its tip, and rather than one furred finger poking out there were instead two fleshy fingers inside.

‘Guess I need a new pair.’ he concluded, noting how as more of the glove fell with the stone his wrist had become exposed.

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the Elements of Harmony looming over the incapacitated ogres. They seemed preoccupied. When he looked back to the front, he realised that he stood before the town hall and the quivering dogs.

It… hurt. Had they been as bad as the ogres he’d have no qualms about how terrified the dogs were right now. They huddled close, shuffled back on their rears, and pushed others forwards, just to get away from him. Ser Vincent, a Solaris Knight, stood before fearing creatures, completely innocent, who all stared at him as if he was the monster here.

Maybe he was without the mask.

Something had been digging into the corner of his mouth and he merely reached up to pluck it from his dampened look, never taking his eyes off Rover. A sliver of his mask, crimson stained and catching the light. He was reminded how badly he was injured, the taste of metal coming back, the restrictive pains spreading across his body.

‘It’s always the same… there’s never any point in calming them down.’ The girls were no better. With that thought his face shifted to a frown without him realising. He felt wounds crackle as scabs split, always a sign that the unnatural magic’s touch was fading. His hand slipped around the back of his coat.

“I’ll say this once, and only once,” he began, his voice as cold as the stone. “Behave or I’ll find you. You got that?” He let his gaze linger as he scanned the rows of nodding dogs. They’d listen. After all, if Ser Vincent couldn’t have the respect of his enemy when the time came he would have their fear. So long as it kept the peace it didn’t matter. Or so he told himself. It helped.

So long as he could function as a knight then he was content.

He turned heel as he pulled out some green gauze, pressing it against his swelling cheek. With swift strides, he hoped to vacate the area before his audience expanded to the rest of Ponyville.

Chapter Eleven

When he lost hope of not being spotted by the locals without his mask, Ser Vincent found himself far, far too exhausted to care.

For far too long he had gone without proper rest, and he had pushed his body beyond the sake of passing his limits, breaking that definitive line between what he could do and shouldn’t. Now he was a self-abused wreck, fighting to walk straight and breathe normally.

He’d straighten up only to slump, stagger to the side and shock a pony, restarting the cycle. He held a wad of green bandage against his cheek with his exposed left hand, all five digits pale in the daylight. He still wore the charred glove on his right only because he hadn’t gotten around to removing it yet.

His eyes were focused however. Sharp malachite focused on the road ahead, studying the startled ponies before quickly diverting back to the floor. Spearmint and garlic flooded his nose as wisps of blue danced around the bandage, numbing the sting of fresh air against his exposed face.

He hated being like this.

Admittedly, he knew the situation was worse because the ogres had done a number on his face. He had just finished picking broken fragments from his wounds after all, anything else he decided could be left for the clinic back in Canterlot. Sure, he could have looked better but these ponies were all the same.

‘Maybe I can try again after a clean shave.’

If it wasn’t one of them, if it wasn’t known, then a pony had to be wary of it.

Too curious and gawking, too scared and avoiding, too brave and mistaking—it all lead to bother for him. That’s where the mask came in. If they saw a stallion garbed heavily in cloth, sporting a mask, with proof he was a knight, then all was honky dory. He was Ser Vincent, the polite and well respected Solaris Knight, who lived to be the embodiment of all legendary stories about his unit.

Without it? He was questioned for credibility, challenged for his authority, both of which took time to prove. They couldn’t trust his face, they didn’t like different. He chucked the bandage into a nearby waste bin, catching the eye of nervous passer-by. He would be calm, he would be polite, and he would be respectful even if others wouldn’t.

Month after month after month after month… and then, when pointed out in a cruel jest, inspiration struck. And for five years so did the mask. Ponies were wary, obviously, but he learnt to adapt his body and voice. The former being very important.

He turned off around a corner, almost bumping into short plump mare, a strawberry icing mane tickling his nose.

“Oop! Sorry there, dearie,” she said with a grin to her voice. His expression fell flat as her eyes shrunk upon meeting his and then all words seemed to die in her mouth. As did her smile.

“I apologise for rushing,” he replied, his voice warm and friendly despite not matching his features. He wasn’t angry with this particular mare, and as he slipped past her, he found himself more concerned about trying to walk straight.

His body had… changed from what it was intended to be. His parents were humans, not magical beings, and the only other two in existence. Whilst still developing in the womb, the abundance of magic found in the Equestria affected him throughout, weaving itself to become a broken part of him.

It was not for free, nor was it without weakness. His extent of control was limited to stopping a rush and riding it out under his influence. He couldn’t start and stop it. He could be knocked out before he realised what was going on; it only multiplied his own strength and agility, and it did not make him unstoppable.

Mana burnout was always lurking beyond over exertion, as any mage worth their salt would tell you. Unicorns got splitting headaches for days whilst Ser Vincent’s body burnt for the same period.

Mentally, physically, and magically, Ser Vincent was spent. What glimmer of thought that sparked in his eyes was the luxury of sleeping on a train back home .There he would be patched up and able to rest. He propped his hood up before pocketing his exposed hand.

He didn’t know how long he had wandered, nor how long he sat on the bench at the train station alone thanks to everypony migrating inside and away from him. He couldn’t hate the ponies he protected even if he was in the right state of mind. If this is how they were, then so long as they weren’t causing trouble he couldn’t care. He was fine, he’d need a new mask and then everything would be back to normal.

He was content.

“Hey Mister Ser Vincent!”

With an amused huff he reclined back into the bench, tilting his head down and continuing with steadying his breathing.

“Hello, Little Miss,” he replied softly. A slight smile tugged on his cheeks, stinging the corner of his mouth. “Going somewhere?”

“Nah, me and girls just finished trying to get trainspotting cutie marks,” she replied as she approached. Vincent spotted her yellow hooves out of the corner of his widening green eye. “Glad we didn’t, it’s boring. Say, what happened to your mask?”

“I got careless and broke it,” he said simply. He had pushed himself day after day for a month, one mission after another, feeling like he could take on one more after another. He was right, because the one thing keeping him going was that he had completed what he had set out to do.

Deliver the letter? Check. Secure the crates? The retrieval squad were likely to be on the same train he’d ride back to Canterlot, or were flying over head as he spoke. He was too tired to check. A pack of diamond dogs were to be relocated to integrate into a more civil society and a cluster of ogres had been subdued.

Professionally speaking, this was one of the best months of this year. Personally it was a staggering reminder to rest more between missions. Maybe spare an extra day between tasks.

“How’d you do that? Are… are you okay?” He saw her shift to try and peak under and so he automatically shifted his gaze away. Trouble was, he didn’t have his mask anymore.

“Hey Apple Bloom.” He heard another voice call out. He tilted his head to have his ear aiming to his left, where two sets of hooves were heard trotting over. “Who’s the dude?” The tomboyish tone was certainly familiar, though Vincent’s mind was having difficulty determining as to why.

“Oh, he’s a knight! Mr Ser Vincent!” The jubilant little farm filly introduction was both warming and amusing. Applejack never corrected her on titles? The smile seemed worth the ache.

“Really?” Another sweet voice, making for three little fillies dangerously close to spotting him. Then again, he knew Applebloom suspected that something was off. He didn’t have a muzzle, and no pony had a muzzle short enough to hide under a hood this size.

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom responded as another set of hooves, powdered white, entered his peripheral vision. It was strange to have that back. “He’s a bit down ‘cuz he lost his mask.”

“He doesn’t look like a knight,” the tomboy pointed out, shuffling her orange hooves as she tried to peak under the hood.

“Hey, I wouldn’t do that,” Apple Bloom warned. Ser Vincent… didn’t care. He saw an orange thumb hook under his hood and didn’t bother to stop her as the new arrival lifted his hood off him. All three of them gasped as his jade eyes studied the two newcomers.

“That’s not a knight, Bloom, he ain’t even a pony!” The orange filly practically squawked as she retreated, large amethyst eyes scanning him. The pegasus was similar in height to Apple Bloom, perhaps a touch taller due to her wild purple mane cropping over from between her pointed ears. She backed up as Vincent regarded her coldly, not attempting to placate her.

“H-he, I mean, Applejack said he was a knight,” Apple Bloom joined her friend in backing up, being flanked by the young white filly staring back wide eyed. His attention turned to her and immediately she wilted.

Chalk white and sporting a bubble-gum pink and purple curling mane, the little unicorn had a potent jade stare, shades lighter than his own. She held her dainty hands to her maw, Ser Vincent being able to spot himself reflected in her eyes. Then again, maybe they thought he was just Vincent, the thing pretending to be a knight with a mauled face.

“Are you alright?” the little filly asked him.

“I’m perfectly fine, I just got into a spat with a few ogres… I’m really tired.” He managed a smile. That was nice of her to ask. Kids were always alright but given a few years and they’ll think ‘monster’ rather ‘minotaur’. The feeling was fleeting as he rolled his head to face the gutsy pegasus in the middle of the group, a light reprimanding scowl touching his face. “Miss Apple Bloom is correct, I am a knight.”

“But you’re not a pony,” she quickly pointed out.

“That is a very astute observation,” he retorted wearily.

“And you just finished fighting ogres?”

‘The echo on this platform is outstanding.’ He kept that thought to himself and instead managed a slow nod. To his brow-arching surprise, the tail wagging filly let her wings buzz in excitement as a large grin exploded onto her face.

“That’s so cool! Where are they now?”

“Crusaders!” All four on the platform turned to spot Miss Applejack strolling over, hand on Stetson as Miss Rainbow Dash swooped overhead to hover behind the girls. “Y’all mind giving me and Dash a little private time with Ser Vincent here?”

“Come on guys, meet and greets over,” Dash chipped in as she landed beside Apple Bloom before ushering them away.

“Awww!” The trio groaned before the orange filly piped up again, “Hey Dash, can we go see the ogres?”

“No can do, kiddo.” With that they rounded the corner of the station cabin, out of sight. That left him with Applejack for the moment. Joy.

“Is something wrong, Miss Applejack?” he asked whilst straining to look up to her. The light of the day hurt his eyes, but quite frankly, everything was hurting and aching by this point. He’s finally managed to look as bad his attire did.

“Well, I was just having the dandiest of days until a bunch of no good varmints showed up, roughly ogre sized,” she began with a smirk on her maw. She plopped herself down beside him, her hands resting on her lap as her tail shifted to her side.

“I hate it when that happens, too.” he replied, his tone mirthful and strained, a jarring contrast to the stoic face he bore. She shook her head and chuckled.

“Reckon you’d know what that’s like,” she continued as she flicked her hat to tilt up.

Miss Dash once again entered the scene from above, a spinning blur of cyan and rainbow that landed hard on the platform, dust kicked up around her hooves.

“Yeash, Rainbow, just land like the rest of the pegasi instead of trying to smash through the flooring like that.” Rainbow merely grinned as she dusted herself off.

“Hey, I have my daily awesomeness quota to meet, okay?” When her eyes met Vincent’s her ears wilted and her grin became sheepish. “So I gotta make up for times when I’m not cool, alright?”

“I’m sorry, there were things to apologise for?” Vincent asked, noting how she rubbed her arm in comfort.

“Yeah… about the, um…” She trailed of as she gestured around her muzzle. With a lazily rising brow, Vincent brought his left hand out of his pocket, more so to watch the mare freeze at the sight. He had five digits, ponies had three, their fingers twice as thick as his. He stroked his sensitive wounds, all having stopped bleeding by now.

“I recall that it was the ogres who did this to me,” he said, his sharp malachite eyes pointed at her.

“I mean about what I’ve said, in case I hurt your feelings or something.” He huffed when she winced, her hand resting on her brow. “That sounded like the worst apology ever.”

“I think what Rainbow wants to say is that she’s sorry she reacted like she did,” Applejack explained. He mechanically turned his head to face her, the mare scooting back as he bore a harsh stare towards her.

“You would have done the same.”

“Beg yer pardon?” she asked, brow touching hat.

“You looked protective of Miss Apple Bloom when I arrived at the counter this morning, so I do ponder how you would have reacted if you saw me without the mask,” he put forward, resting the back of his head against the wall the bench was against.

“Like heck I would have reacted,” she with a stern nod and slight frown. “I ain’t one to judge.” He shook his head, stopping to tilt it as he regarded her with a small smile. Thing was, ponies that said that didn’t know when they were doing it. Again, they’d casually call a minotaur a monster because that’s how they thought. He didn’t dislike them for it, ponies were what ponies were and he was what he was.

“Maybe, yeah, maybe you’re right, Miss Applejack,” he answered, though the way he said made it clear he wasn’t without doubt. His tone was off too, he was speaking monotonously, a far cry from the friendly voice she met early in the day.

“Anyway,” Dash said walking over to extend a furred hand. “I’m sorry for making a fuss about how you look.”

His gaze locked onto her hand for a second; his left hand writhed on the armrest, the notion of physically touching a stranger’s bare palm oddly unnerving. He easily pushed the sensation to the side to take her hand, his fingers imitating a pony’s to complete the shake. Her fur felt coarse, rugged and strangely befitting of the athletic mare.

Regardless of his disposition, he had to be polite and he did feel slightly better that he’d been apologised to. Not that he was offended in the first place. She didn’t know what he was to begin with.

“It’s weird…”

‘And good feelings gone now.’ His expression instantly soured, his jaw shifting as he stared up to her widening eyes. He dropped her grasp and leant back, folding his arms and releasing a disappointed sigh.

“No, I mean how soft and thin your fingers are,” she pressed, ears flat and tail limp as he stared flatly up to her.

“Miss Dash, it’s fine, please move on.” Once again his warm tone didn’t match his face, a brooding storm of an expression.

“Dash,” the farm mare interrupted with concern fringing her voice, “I think we’re all good to let it go right about now.” With a groan, Miss Dash leapt into the air, hovering at a point twice her height standing.

“Hey Vinny,” she said through the beat of her wings, “We cool, right? I ain’t leaving till we are.” A pregnant pause followed, ending when Applejack spotted the faintest of smiles sprout on his red lips.

“We certainly are, Miss Dash. I appreciate your efforts, I just like my personal space.”

“Yeah, I remember. Thanks for the save, big guy!” With that she bolted overhead, disappearing over the roof.

“And there’s my reason, personally, for coming.” Vincent turned to see Applejack bearing a soft smile of gratitude on her maw. “Just wanna say thank you kindly for saving me from the axe back there. We all appreciate what you did even if you don’t think we do.”

‘Even if you didn’t you would one day, the mask just helped make that day sooner rather than later. Still, the sentiment’s nice.’ He offered his gloved hand, the three digits making her stare at it longer than he’d would have liked. She gently grabbed hold seeing as he didn’t look to be in the right shape for a proper shake.

“Ain’t that uncomfortable?” she inquired, releasing his grasp as she rose to her hooves.

“It was strange at first but you get used to it.”

“Alright then partner, remember if you ever find yourself back in Ponyville be sure to stop off at Sweet Apple Acres!” She beamed as she headed off through the cabin door, “Be nice to properly give thanks with a good meal!” He gave a courteous nod but her expression fell when he kept his as neutral as possible.

‘I don’t want come back unless I’m needed here.’ He still kept the offer in the back of his mind. An overnight stay usually meant he’d have to eat in a secluded spot, a place he’d visit if he ever came back on leave, but at least with this he’d have some pleasant company.

“Ser Knight?” It was Miss Rarity who called to him from his far left, and alongside her was a meek Fluttershy holding first-aid kit against her stomach. The dazzling dress that danced between snow white and soft gold was ruffled and dirtied, the belt around her waist askew. He saw her exhale in relief, hand on chest.

“Thank the Fates, we thought you’d gone,” she added as the duo strolled over. Well, Miss Rarity sauntered as she kept one hand behind her back whilst Fluttershy rushed over. To his surprise she practically pounced onto the space besides him, planting the kit on her other side. She knelt onto the bench and reached for his face with both hands.

“Oh my, let’s get this cleaned up quick.”

His immediate reaction as to shirk away, wide-eyed shock stealing his face. She frowned, the maternal teal stare making him question his response.

“S-ser Vincent, you’re going to let me clean you up… right now, Mister. Ser. Mr Ser!” As adorable as the pegasus was, she was both stern and curt enough to get him to submit without knowing. He glanced to Rarity, who refused to meet his eye, looking down the oncoming track.

“Okay, this is going to sting just a liiiitle bit,” Fluttershy commented as she brought a soaked piece of cloth to his cheek. As the cleaning agents cut through the dirt and dried blood, Vincent hissed through his teeth and tightly gripped the left armrest with his exposed hand. “Sorry.”

“I- I’m fine.” He sighed as she shifted to the other side of his face, her own inching into view. Half her sweet face was obscured by a veil of mane, rosy pink but he could see the determination in her eye as she worked. Whenever the sterilising smell disappeared, wild berry seemed to tickle his olfactory sense.

“H-h-he’s fine t-too,” Fluttershy managed.

“Pardon?” Vincent replied, instinctively titling his head. It caused Miss Fluttershy’s face to scrunch up as she repositioned him to remain vertical.

“Mr Yig Jr. He’s sleeping well, I think.” She paused mid-dabbing of the swelling near his eye to look at him. He heard her gulp away her nerves, faint but there. “It was a while ago but he looked to be sleeping well. Um, how long will it last?”

He had to pause to answer this, his eyes losing focus as he tried to recall the exact details of his potions. Petrify? Minutes like it had done at three percent concentrate. No. Goo cast? Poly-tetra gualide reacted with the Agratar oils... No that’s not it. Finally he remembered.

“About five hours, more if the animal in question is already exhausted.” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward a Fluttershy dapped his nose. “Might drink a bottle when I get home.” Again he titled his head out of habit, blinking back into focus to see Fluttershy’s ears wilt as she scrunched her face once more.

“Will he be okay?” He asked, directly catching her attention. She paused to reach for a few plasters. The fact that they were pink was not a bother, no, the fact that they came with scarlet hearts made him scream inside his head. He didn’t voice this.

“He’s just very tired, what he needs is a good night’s rest and to take it easy from now on.” He let her get to work with applying the healing stickers where she decided. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, wh-what are you exactly?”

“A Solaris Knight, Miss Fluttershy.” His reply was quick but he still turned away, his eyes falling onto Miss Rarity who still refused to look at him. He was more interested in what she held behind her back, though the look of regret did catch his eye once or twice.

“T-that’s not…” He didn’t have to hear the rest of what his impromptu doctor mumbled, and as he turned back he saw her packing up her kit. She didn’t make eye contact and looked crest fallen. A rock struck his gut hard; Vincent had no intention of returning to Ponyville unless he was needed, and he’d rather not be the cause of a mare looking as Fluttershy did right now. He couldn’t handle the guilt.

“I’m human,” he managed with a weathered voice. A tired smile, genuine, met her pleasantly surprised grin. She slid of the bench and stood on her hooves, resting the first-aid kit against her waist. She moved the long lock of hair out the way, her smile catching the light of day.

“There, all better.” She beamed as her tail swayed. Once again, cute. “Thank you, Vincent, for saving my friends.” He conceded a nod, his expression flattening through fatigue. Oddly, Fluttershy glanced to his side, above and past his head. He’d noticed but made no effort to investigate. Even thinking about the word ‘effort’ was a heroic feat. “Well I hope you get well soon, and thank you for the potion.”

Again he conceded an exaggerated nod, more of a bow, as she walked off the platform. That’s when he spotted Rarity facing him, hands still behind her back and her focus on the floor.

“Miss Rarity? Miss Fluttershy has just left, are you… not accompying her?” That earned a bitter chuckle.

“I’d rather not, for now at least. I owe you something, don’t I?” She shuffled on her hooves, biting her lip. “I don’t suppose I can ask a small favour could I?” Admittedly, he was interested. Cautious but curious.

“That depends on what you ask of me. I need to return back to Canterlot for my report.” She stepped closer, her hand pampering her couture. A few strands of mane and tail fell out of place but otherwise she was still a beautiful country belle.

“I need you to stand up. Only if you can! I… shouldn’t ask for you to strain yourself on my behalf. You know what, forget I asked.”

Her request was certainly odd and off putting but not beyond him at the moment. He eyed how she still bit her lip. Slowly, like a veridian tower rising up, he wound up standing tall before strolling unsteadily towards Miss Rarity. A simple sit down wasn’t enough but it did some good in quelling his protesting pains.

When he was close enough she flinched, she did only come to shoulder height. She may have seen his boots enter her field of vision.

“I’m deeply sorry for how I reacted, Ser Vincent, you didn’t deserve that.” He knew he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. “You’ve always been kind, considerate and polite above all things to me. You did nothing to warrant my behaviour back then, especially after saving my life as the fine gentlestallion you are.”

Man. Gentleman. He wasn’t a pony, and there were aspects to being human that he learnt from his parents. He was a man, not a stallion, but quite frankly asking the whole world to change their vocabulary for his sake was pointless; asking Rarity to make the correction was petty.

Still, it’s not as if he could blame her. She was surprised by something that she hadn’t expected to see, and he was in the worse state to be seen. Yes, it hurt, it always did, but in the end it didn’t withhold him from his mission. She was safe and that mattered.

“I hope you can accept my apology,” she said, still looking down to the ground. The guilt and regret was in her voice, so he could forgive her. Ponies were what ponies were, and given all the good ones, it made it difficult the actually hate them. Miss Rarity, and the others, certainly belonged to that group.

She then revealed what she had withheld from him and it left him stupefied.

She held his mask, fully intact save for missing irregular pieces. They were small and irregular enough to be irrelevant. Joy surged throughout his body, warming it all and pooling in his heart. His elation lessened the aches, the sting of a delighted smile fading quickly.

“You’re certainly an amazing mare,” he said warmly, reaching for the mask. “How did you--” Upon taking it into his hands it was then that he finally glanced to her face, and his stunned expression was frozen.

“Sometimes…” Sapphire eyes stared back, studious and sparkling. They were so intense that he felt paralysed. This is why he didn’t like ponies getting too close and especially without the mask. They were so expressive that their stares were viciously potent, so much so that he couldn’t react as she landed her hand on top of his exposed one.

“It’s probably one of few spells I know besides telekinesis, a handy little gem of surprising usage.”

Fur as soft as silk glided across the back of his hand, the sensation shocking him. It moved on, up along his arm. His breathing picked up, his mind lost to the sudden onset of anxiety shaking his heart. Wisps of violet were in the air, quickly inhaled. Though he tried to keep a level face, a tint of fear touched his features. He finally managed to break her gaze when she reached his jaw.

Softly, like snow falling, her hand slid across the bristled surface, mindful of the plasters and cuts as it touched cheek. He was wound uptight as she cupped him, the thumb gently stroking a soothed bruise. The sting earned a hiss and brought him back to his senses, his hand tightening into a fist kept by his side.

“You have such striking green eyes, Ser knight,” she said as a scowl formed on his face. A coy grin returned to her lips.

“Though you’d looked better with a shave, if you don’t mind me saying.” Those were dangerous words as she found out. That fearsome glare surfaced briefly as he raised a hand to gently push her hand away, her ears wilting as her smile strained.

“Ah, I forgot your no touching policy, forgive me,” she said, stepping back. He noted how her eyes were also darting to the side. He’d handle things a step at a time, starting here.

“Miss Rarity,” he began, a voice much friendlier than what his face wold suggest he actually felt, “its fine.”

“I’m may sound like a broken record but, forgive me, dear. You don’t look like you believe it is.”

She was just as surprised as he was it seemed when he took a look of confusion. Ser Vincent couldn’t believe it, he wasn’t actually glaring at the lady was he? No, he couldn’t be. Was that why she was wilting under his stare? He thought he was simply… looking at her, maybe a light frown on his face.

‘Have I been wearing this for so long?’

The mask! He could hide again, safe from the stares, free to work without hindrance. It rose up in his hands as he brought it up to him, sliding it neatly back into place. A cool sensation draped over his face, a familiar weight comforting him as he reached around to tighten the straps behind his head.

“Wait!” He froze mid-process and looked to Rarity. She bit her lip and stared back, seemingly desperate.

“You… You do forgive me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he said with an honest merry tone. He wanted to continue fixing the straps but as soon as he spotted the troubled look of the lady, something stopped him. She held onto herself in a comforting embrace.

“Can you say it without the mask?”

…

“Yes.”

Slowly, he unclipped the one clasp he had managed to fasten and lowered the mask. He kept his eyes tightly shut, his expression mixed with emotions. Finally, as he opened his eyes, malachite meeting sapphire, he settled on one look: disheartened. And finally, his voice matched.

“I forgive you, Miss Rarity.” He bore no smile. “I would like for you to forget it.” That was it.

“Thank you,” she replied with a sweet smile.

He turned away, facing the train cabin as he fixed the mask into place. She saw that all three straps converged to the centre of behind his head, atop the short hair. He then pulled his hood up, tilting his head down to study his exposed left hand before pocketing it.

His attention was drawn to Princess Twilight Sparkle as she stepped out onto the platform.

“Rarity, could you please give the knight and me some privacy please?” Upon the princess’ request Rarity departed, a smile gracing her features as she nodded. She glanced back at him, raising a dainty hand to wave back.

“Farewell, Ser knight, I’m glad we sorted this out in time.” It seemed she didn’t want to add anything else as she quickly slipped into cabin. It was then that he spotted what had been taking everypony’s attention before: Miss Pinkie Pie.

She pressed her face against the window, her flattened expression of ear-fallen sorrow squished against the plane of glass. Bright blue eyes bore into him but at least with the mask he was shielding himself from her. He couldn’t tell what expression he now held.

She leant back as Princess Twilight walked over, waving sheepishly before fogging up the glass with her breathe. He tilted his head as she began to write a one word message: sorry. With both the ‘R’s reversed.

“What is she apologising for?” She hadn’t said anything against him, to his recognition anyhow. He waved back with uncertainty using the gloved hand.

“Pinkie’s just covering all the bases. Trust me, the last thing she wants is for anypony to dislike her.” The Princess came to a stop past him. He turned to find her smiling fondly down the track. “If it weren’t for the girls she’d be out here right about now, eagerly trying to make amends for something she didn’t even do.”

“I don’t believe I could have a problem with Pinkie Pie.”

“Who do you have a problem with?” Princess Twilight turned to face him, revealing the letter he’d brought earlier that day in her hands. The scholar stared back as the evening breeze rolled in, playing with the paper edge and her tail, reading him as he was. No. He knew there was more to that stare and it was something to do with the letter.

“Seeing as everypony apologised, though it was a rather minor thing, I don’t have a problem with anypony.” He offered a shrug, tilting his head. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“You really don’t think all this is extreme?” She pressed, folding her arms under her bust and moving closer to him.

“I informed you as to why I choose this appearance.” he said, fighting to remain standing. He should really be on one knee right about now, but he doubted he could get back up. As much as he wanted to request sitting on the bench, he had an appearance to hold up. Some dignity was better than none. Princess Twilight simply scowled at him.

“Yeah, this is your idea of camouflage that is insultingly brilliant purely because it worked, I get that.” Her terse reply made him tilt his head. Maybe she wasn’t happy that she couldn’t see through it. Then again, he wasn’t trying to pretend nothing was off, rather, that he was stallion in general, suspicious or not. “I’m guessing if it wasn’t for the letter I’d never have known you were human.”

“Ponies would know I’m a knight rather than focus on me not being a pony.” Once again she shook her head, sighing. She glanced to the letter, the one he guess was for her eyes only.

“Well I guess there’s no telling you why this whole thing is silly.” Ser Vincent stepped forward.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I doubt you’ve attempted to prevent riots when both sides see you as an outsider.” He thumbed towards himself, instantly feeling lightheaded but pressing on. “Yeah, today was bad, yeah I did a whole lot of scary things, but I’ve had to work tiredly for nothing because apparently I was worse than whatever ponies were fighting over in the first place.”

“The thing I’ve dedicated my life to? Ponies don’t want because it’s me who’s protecting them,” he added, a bitter tone merging with anger. He let it go. No point wasting his energy. Vincent shook his head, remembering who he was talking to. “But I’m not one to mope, I adapt, I then function with the utmost efficiency.”

“That’s clearly doing well for you,” Princess Twilight pointed out. She shifted her weight to one side, still scrutinizing him with light worry in her stare. “Face it, you got lucky today, Ser Vincent. I don’t know exactly how your magic works, purely because there’s no books on you, but it can’t be good for you to both over-exert yourself and then trigger a defense mechanism that sends your body into overdrive. I can still see you shaking!”

It was all true. He heard Rarity scream twice, meaning that the ogre missed once. Why did he have a chance at all? Because Vincent was too weak to stand. Why was his world nothing but sensations of burning nerve impulses and heavy muscles, his breathing tight and hot, and his motions sluggish? Because reality had caught up to him and his found difficulty in standing before the princess even now.

Yet, he would continue to do so.

“You know the details about my ability?” He inquired, straining to tilt his head. She nodded.

“Yes, and I must admit, I’m surprised Blueblood could write a competent summary—the fact that he could get the key details in whilst adding his own comments about me, your wardrobe, and the entire issue boggled my mind.” She chuckled to herself, awkwardly trailing off thanks to Ser Vincent’s blank stare. Clearing her throat she continued.

“It’s a supercharged adrenaline rush tied closely to the fight or flight response triggered through fear and shock, meaning that it’s a more instinctive type of magic, correct?” He offered a nod. That was the gist of if, except ever since learning his little trick he’d been able to cut it off or learn to greatly control its influence when active. Hence why not everything that startles him sets him off.

“But… it can cause you to burn out.”

“Correct, though I’d imagine even ponies constantly on adrenaline rushes all day would become ill too. I do believe I’m going to suffer from the symptoms shortly.” Mana burnout started rough, but that was simply knocking on the door and introducing itself. He’d be bed ridden in the morning.

“So don’t you see the dangers of pushing yourself too far continuously?” Princess Twilight asked with concern touching her voice. Oh, she’d suffered from mana burn out before, mostly when she was still under the tutelage of Princess Celestia. He paused to close his eyes beneath the mask. The light was starting to hurt.

“I’m fine, really. I push myself as far as I need to, and try to reduce that need. Why has His Majesty even bothered to write in the first place?” Maybe he wasn’t supposed to know. If the princess saw fit she didn’t have to dignify him with a response and he’d accept that. He still had to ask.

“He wanted me to be prepared for you.” She folded the letter and tucked it under her arm, a weary shake of the head matching her tired stare. Another thick silence hung over the air as she turned away when a distant train whistle could be heard. “About how you are and behave.”

Ser Vincent, although hearing her, had his focus on the train rushing down the tracks to meet them. A powerful locomotive, with steam clouds puffing out as it trundle into the station. A colourful body of carriages followed the mighty pink engine, the massive pistons hissing as it grinded to a halt. Immediately one of the carriages dropped its wall onto the platform, a small contingent of royal guards marching out.

Nigh identical save for the leading stallion of the band of six earth ponies; like the others he was a crisp white, chiselled marble cut tight and framed with golden armour. Hoof boots clinked with every step, their immaculate tabards fastened around the waist, portraying Celestia’s mark. But the leading sergeant, rather than a simple guard helm revealing a muzzle and blue eyes also bore a red plumb arcing overhead.

Ser Vincent raised a hand and stole his attention, the guard bringing his small company to a halt. He took to a knee and the others soon followed.

“Princess Sparkle, an honour to meet you, your highness.”

Twilight was still new to the whole princess status, and the formalities it would bring. It was now slightly awkward to visit the castle back in Canterlot when guards that had been silent all her studious life began talking to her in the same respected reverences as they had to for her mentor. Once again, it was odd this morning when Ser Vincent did it, and now the feeling was multiplied seven times over.

“Ah, please, t-there’s no need.” Her eyes darted to the knight beside her, his slouching form and heavy mask facing down upon the guard. “Arise.”

With that the sergeant rose up tall, matching Vincent’s height. His subordinates followed shortly after, though when he noticed the knight he snapped to a salute. Vincent met him in kind with his gloved fist on heart

“An honour to meet you too, Ser Vincent. I was not aware that you were operating in southern Equestria.” With that, Vincent spotted a few of the squad mutter his name under their breath, every last one of them quickly following in their leader’s hoof-steps and snapping to a salute.

“I only thought our knight commanders kept tabs on us.” His reply came with a tilt of the head, an action that reminded him to keep things short. There was a pain in his neck he wished he hadn’t become aware off. He dropped the fist from his heart before the sergeant lowered his salute, respectful formalities complete. The guard then smiled.

“Knights make for the best stories to tell, yours in particular.”

“Well sorry to disappoint you but you’ll find yourself carrying back several crates of weapons,” Ser Vincent said as he took a sluggish step forward. “Nothing grand I’m afraid.”

“We’ll make our way to the town hall, then. I await your command there, Princess.”

With a weary step, the knight began to migrate towards the lead carriage, stopping only to address the princess. “They’ll handle things from here on out, Princess. Including the newer additions that will be sent to Canterlot. Farewell, I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.

“Are you coming back?” In the pause birthed between them the sergeant had begun moving his troops as silently as possible. It only served to amplify the rustle of armour as the princess gazed at the knight.

“I go where I’m needed. I have a wall back home of all the places I’d like to revisit.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“…I have no intention of coming back unless I am needed here, no.”

Princess Twilight’s tired thoughts escaped through her sigh, her gaze now similar to when he first left the tree-library. There it was: fate-damned, hubris cracking, infuriating pity. For the past five years he didn’t need it, same as five years prior to that. It always made him… doubt. His mind had to be steeled and resolute, not clouded by uncertainty. He was content without pity, thank you very much.

The difference now though, as he moved on, was that she didn’t have that smile one saved for happy endings.

“Then goodbye, Ser Vincent. I do hope you reconsider.”

He had to shuffle along at first to build up speed, akin to how a train slowly creeps out a station. As was the case, for someone like Ser Vincent, reputation and respect were very important tools. How he carried himself, how well executed a mission was, and how beneficial the results were, generated respect amongst his peers. This in turn built his reputation, a name that had spread in some criminal circles as something to be feared.

Unable to simply raise his leg and enter the forward passenger car, Ser Vincent instead supported his form by slumping against the doorframe. His limbs were starting to stiffen, a bolt of anguish shooting through his joints as they moved. He rarely burnt out but at the same time he rarely relied on his ability as heavily and as often as he had this month.

He needed rest. Not worry. Never pity.

“Wait!”

The sugary cry drew his attention, slowly given his fatigue. Pinkie Pie was racing down the station, curled mane and tail whipping like a strawberry flame in the wind. She skidded —a remarkable distance he noted— to a halt before him. She had to stop herself from bumping into him, balancing on her hoof tips and flailing a hand in an attempt to avoid contact. He smiled faintly beneath the hood and mask.

‘A masquerade ends with dusk, Miss Pie.’ With that thought he reached out with a shaky, exposed hand and held her steady by the shoulder.

“Oh? Thanks, Vinny!” she exclaimed with a merry grin. It touched her eyes naturally enough, both looking back bright and kind. “You weren’t gonna leave without this, right?” Stiffly he lowered his gaze to find her holding a sweet scented gift, wrapped in napkins. The hand that steadied her descended from her shoulder to the slice of cake.

“I kept it for you just like you asked. Well, Shy helped during the whole ogre thing, but other than that, totally guarded the cake with my life!” Upon taking the treat, her furred-fingers tickled his palm, startling him but not enough to show. “Just like you wanted. Now you have something to eat on the ride home!”

This town… it wasn’t right. This was not how things went. Not once, in the distant beginning, in the hours’ worth of total time spent without his mask far from home after the start, not once were ponies like this. It didn’t matter that he’d helped them, they were scared and cautiously curious, eager to be rid of him. He was okay with that now because that’s how they were. He accepted it. He’d beaten it. He found a way to be content.

Gryphons spent centuries fighting their stigmas. Minotaurs in decades. Both were still said to be monsters, not behind their backs, but as casual remarks. Not because they were but because they were different. Zebras were in the same boat, albeit one that were reaching the same shores that these ponies walked on, that island of equality.

So where did the world’s only Equestrian-human stand? Between all of them and the real monsters. Where else?

“Thank you, Pinkie Pie.” His voice was soft, low as all thoughts were on energy conservation. He managed to look her back in the eye, it was only polite to face her when expressing his sincere gratitude.

“I look forward to it.” Her smile broadened.

“Great, you have to tell me your favourite for the next time you visit.” He blinked as she stared back expectantly, blinking a few times before he decided to humour her.

“I like banoffee pie.” Moments later it hit him that she desired a cake, not pie. She didn’t seemed bothered in the slightest.

“Gotcha, Vinny!” She then brought her fingers together, a sheepish look taking her as they were repeatedly bumped into one and other. “Say, I have another question.” He strained to tilt his head this time, as he did to extend one final answer.

“And what would that be?”

“Is the tail real?” He didn’t have the energy to follow her eyes, but managed a faint chuckle.

“It’s an old mop head, painted brown whilst… trimmed and… each strand is individually preserved…” He found himself having difficulty in speaking. It was all so exhausting. He swallowed a dry throat. “It’s attached to the back of my belt and feeds through. I need it both flexible and fire retardant.”

To his surprise she bit her lip, cheeks swelling to burst before she snorted with laughter.

‘I suppose it is silly.’

“Goodbye, Pinkie Pie. I thank you for the cake.” He heaved himself through the threshold, looking back as Pinkie waved.

“See you real soon, Vinny!”

‘Unlikely, Miss Pie, unlikely.

He found the nearest private cabin, and in one fell swoop, slipped through the door, locked it, and slumped across the hard bench until he rested against the wall. The sudden weight caused the stylised seat to groan, the stuffy space toxifying the air he breathed. With a lurch the train pull back, vibrations reaching from the spinning metal wheels to the cabin floor his world weary boots were planted on. A scream of the engine, whistling a roar, signalled the end of his mission. He became drowsy through the familiarity but managed to gaze out of the curtained window.

As the train began to crawl out the station he saw them all, the Elements of Harmony waving him off. Pleasant farewells passed through the glass window. Slowly the locomotive accelerated, the heavy ‘chuga-chuga’ quickening.

The mares walked alongside, Miss Rarity lifting her dress to keep up as Miss Dash easily coasted alongside in the air. Applejack waved her Stetson, Fluttershy daintily waving her hand. Pinkie lead the movement, hopping along and seemingly attempting to shake her arm off with a great vigour. Finally, Princess Twilight Sparkle walked along, waving back but still not smiling.

He leant away from the window, though admittedly touched as he had been by previous thanks on previous missions. This time… something was off. He placed the cake on the table before him, resting both his hands on either side.

With his mind fogging with fatigue, he couldn’t remember why he was bothering to do this. He lazily glanced between his pale left before craning his focus to the gloved right. He felt the uncomfortable warmth of the cabin freshly between the exposed five digits, fingers aching as they twitched like the final spurt of life through sand tarantula legs. The right hand was something he was more accustomed to: his protective three-digited shell that, though time ravaged and burnt, remained.

With a wince and a groan, Ser Vincent gave up and leant back to enjoy some sleep. A blissful slumber took him as soon as his eyes shut.

Author's Note

Epilogue coming soon, thank you for reading this far. Please like, favourite, comment, do a little dance, and shake it like a Polaroid picture.

Epilogue

His doctor offered a private bed at the clinic but was left protesting when Ser Vincent opted to limp his way back to his own. He didn’t bother to hide it in the halls of Canterlot Castle but still wore the mask. The first thing he did upon arriving was to set his armour aside and take a shower.

He walked out of his ensuite bathroom, still dripping but refreshed. His hair was matted, a darker timber once wet. He wore only his dirt ridden pants and earth-patchy socks. His beaten body was in shape, but coloured with a myriad of bruises, from sickly gold to ugly navy. A few white scars could be counted on one hand if seen up close, soon to be covered by the green and sapphire-speckled bandage he was wrapping around his mid-section.

As invigorating as a good shower was, when he finished tying off his own medical investment by his side he then realised how it was temporal. Herbs and mint rose up as he inhaled, his fingers stroking the plaster strip crossing over the bridge of his nose, before he lightly prodded his stitched left cheek. Pools of pain sprung up across his body as tired jade eyes scanned his room.

It was large, far larger than his older room from when he was younger—perks of being a technically dying species under the watchful eye of Princess Celestia: comfort. That and his majesty wanted him operating at the best of his abilities whilst serving him and looking kind to his lesser as well.

Ser Vincent’s portion of the room, if one didn’t wish to see anything work related, was neatly tucked into the left third of the room. There was still a great deal of space between the single bed and a small desk littered with writing and drawing supplies. Quills, ink stamps, sharpeners, and artist pencils all scattered upon the mahogany surface. A bedside table supported both a lamp and an expensive record player. It was a new model, a gift from his mother, built in speakers singing the sweet starting piece of the famous ‘Knight Lost, Lady Found’. This melody was soothing, an audio balm and sleeping agent. He could get lost easily with it whilst in the shower.

The bathroom door was heavily fortified as it stood next his small alchemist lab—not every experiment was clean nor guaranteed non-explosive results. Thankfully all was small scale, as per request of the castle staff.

It took up the largest portion of the room. His alchemy bench was broad, curving against the far wall facing the door to his room and an erected wall to prevent splashes of chemicals staining his bed. Flasks and beakers were neatly sorted, Bunsen burners lined up like waiting soldiers, and test tubes remained in a sink by a balcony door, one of the few sources of light for the room. Ingredients and chemicals were tucked away in overhead storage cabinets, in under-desk cupboards. Opposite all this was his fume cupboard, pristine, white and beside him.

At the moments, three long tubes were stained and emptied, their contents having dripped through the tap at the bottom and into separately awaiting flasks. The burettes each had labels hanging from the top by a noose of string, the flasks beneath glowing bright from left to right. He noted this but couldn’t think, other than he’d have to finish up and prep more petrify capsules later.

The remaining space of his working two-thirds of the room was for his field equipment, two tall bookshelves filled mostly with botanical, alchemical, geographical, and biological knowledge sat on either side of a wardrobe.

Within were numerous long coats, pants, gloves, and boots, aesthetically different to suit environments of forest, desert, and artic tundra. Other than that? All identical, right down to the potions used to strengthen them. A stallion mannequin stood beside him, weighed down by the hydra armour that reached his waist, a very snug fit. His bracer was attached to the arm, his mask assuming its position on the head. At the base were two metal cases, the broadest being on the bottom.

‘Doctor says I need some rest’. And Vincent was inclined to agree. He turned towards his secluded portion of the room, glancing at the second wardrobe against the bisecting wall. That had his regular clothes, though pants were irregular things in this country. Before sliding onto his bed he had to take one look at the one thing that made him proud.

Between the bed and desk, mounted on the wall was a large map of Equestria in immense detail, spanning a majority of the surface. Mountain peaks, river beds, dark forests, all framed in a golden casing to display somepony else’s work. After all, drawing was always more of a hobby he picked up studying flora, a technique good for imbedding plants to memory. He couldn’t do something on this size.

What he could do was draw summaries of his missions and pin them around.

Yes, on the outskirts of Equestria were his small additions to the map, his contributions to the real thing. Papers depicting fearsome creatures, enraged foes, clever criminals, and villainous beasts stood at the boarders with thin threads leading to a location on map before being tacked. Each monster was grander than the last.

In the beginning there were few, but now five and a half years later, he had achieved a bounty of markers in the frozen north, luscious east and dark western parts of the lands. The south was spartan. He swelled with pride as he glanced at the sight, his eyes brightening as he gazed to the missions out of the country, those pictures not traced back to Equestria.

This was why he was content. They were all completed, successful missions.

But… beneath each picture was another.

Those pictures were of sights worth revisiting, a place he wanted to return to and simply be. He had pictures of rock spiders, sludge golems, fire bats, even a necromancer, but he would not deny that the view from standing upon a mountain top was worth recording. same for the enchanted swamp with wisps of rainbow fireflies. And especially not the ice caverns of the north, where ice and crystal were indistinguishable, beautiful architecture.

He’d seen more than one of the same monster, but never got around to seeing those sights again. He’d come close but on other missions.

He was too tired to ponder over that and simply sat upon his bed with an ineloquent yawn. Light fell through the window behind him, casting him in a soft-orange glow. Being off his feet made his legs feel incredibly light, the sensation bringing an odd sense of discomfort. Unlike the locking pains in his arms, chest and knees, he found that pleasant.

An abrupt knocking at the door caused a fatigued frown to form.

“Who is it?” He asked with a warm voice.

“Housekeeping,” came the regal reply. The door opened and Prince Blueblood strolled in.

The regal bachelor sported no luscious attire this time, then again, being as well groomed as he was meant that very little could enhance his handsome features. He was royalty, white fur born of the crushed marble that made the capital the ivory crown it was, bluest of eyes either as cold as fresh waters in winter, or as warm as the sky in summer. The wry smile was well suited for the prince, as were the golden locks parted by the horn, shining like the gold of his full bank accounts. A compass rose blessed his hips, Ser Vincent knowing it meant how well the prince could steer nobles into a more noble direction.

The stallion that changed, if not saved, Vincent’s life.

“So this is what a manticore’s chew toy looks like,” the prince commented as he looked behind him.

The stallion that was Vincent’s best friend.

“Service, please bring in the beverages.” The Prince proceeded further in, his nose scrunching in offense as he approached. “Ugh, are you certain that there’s no way to eradicate that odour every time you use those bandages?”

“No,” Vincent replied with a hurting smirk as he moved along towards the head of the bed, “I prefer efficiency and functionality in life and death situations, smelling good is the least of my worries.” With his ribs and abdomen numbed he could lean onto his knees with his elbows, looking up the prince with his own quirked brow. “Then again I’m not exactly enlightened to the elite’s parfum de séduction douce.”

The satisfaction was evident in Vincent’s grin when the prince gagged.

“If that horror was a beast I’d have you slay it.”

“With His Highness’ mercy, I’d prefer to relocate it so that somewhere I’d always be able to see it again, maybe memory lane when the need arises.” A light chuckle toppled out of Vincent as the prince’s horn shimmered with a snow-blue light, the desk chair soon sliding across wood to provide Blueblood with a seat. With an indignant huff and a lash of the tail, the prince crossed one shoed hoof over his knee.

“I suppose there’s no facing you down in terms of knowing what stench is worse given your line of work, Ser Knight.” With a light frown, directed over his shoulder to the door, the prince continued, “Bad aromas aside, how are you actually feeling?”

Despite the modest shrug, Blueblood could see the strained look sprout on his knight’s face in the corner of his eye.

“Not my worse.” At Ser Vincent’s reply the prince rolled his eyes.

“Nothing will beat Zebrica, I know, but answer my question without that annoying bravado.”

“It’s not my worse, a few painkillers and I’ll be fine, I’m where I need to be to rest aren’t I?” Vincent frowned, intentionally this time. “I don’t do bravado.” His scowl deepened as the prince responded with an amused snort. At that moment, the prince’s personnel servant entered.

Platinum Service was a lifelong butler and confidant to the prince, even bestowing some handfuls of wisdom to Vincent. Between the two of them, the Prince seemed happy with who he could talk to on certain matters. The old gentleman was silvering in the citrus fur, adding to the charm of the ancient treasure trove of knowledge that he was. Ruby eyes matched the scarlet tie that made him stand out amongst the black and white suited members of staff, the only thing the stallion was adamant in keeping. A scarlet mane was combed back, his tail cropped short and neat.

“My apologies for the delay, Your Highness.” His voice was crisp and dry, and on the ornate silver platter he held in one white gloved hand were two different drinks. A glass of blue wine and a green bottle of dark lager.

“Was there a complication?” The prince asked with a thin lipped stare.

“I couldn’t think of one.”

With that he offered the prince his beverage. Platinum was the best butler to serve in the castle, something that could be backed up by documents of service. That meant that if things were beyond him, his subordinates, and even the rest of the castle staff then one was lucky when the results did come in.

“Ser Vincent, the prince had me bring a bottle of Strap’s Crispy Oats in case it was fitting for the moment. Would you prefer a glass or will you be taking it straight from the bottle?”

His father taught him that alcohol was a delicious poison, and that whilst important to taste, to learn its discipline, there was one golden rule: wine for refine, lager post labour. Drinks had their time, had their place, to which one would best attain their refreshing effects. Vincent was an intermediate in wine tasting, thanks to Service, but knew when an alternative was right.

“The bottle thank you, Platinum, and thank you Prince Blueblood.” Was it the right time after just leaving the clinic due to multiple wounds, whilst still seizing up in stiffening aches due to mana burnout summoned from months of abuse? He was handed the drink and immediately sipped it.

Vincent spied the prince lower his cup to mime a toast before returning it to his lips. The old stallion turned to face his liege, hands held behind his back.

“Anything else, Your Majesty?”

“Could you inform me of my schedule for this evening?” The prince inquired whilst eyeing the liquid he now swirled in his glass.

“Certainly. You will be present for tonight fashion awards ceremony with Mister Fancy Pants, which arrangements ends at eight O’clock this evening, where you will shall be attending the opera.”

“I see,” Blueblood replied, downing the rest of his drink. It made Platinum wince, though the expression was brief. “Please disregard that as it seems my best bodyguard won’t be there to attend with me.”

Ser Vincent simply continued drinking as the prince levelled a smouldering glare his way.

“Yes, the fool has pushed himself for far too long, against goliaths of monsters, numerous bandits, and countless scores of magic, and refused to acknowledge when to quit!” Prince Blueblood reprimanded him because he cared, Vincent knew that. But in the beginning, there were so many against him opting for a military career that this was old hat.

“He sounds like a good man, Your Highness. May I be as bold as to offer some advice?”

“Offer and give regardless are synonymous to you. What is it?”

“He may have had one of those days.” Vincent’s voice was as tired as he looked, a sight that made the prince shake his head and sigh.

“You see where reckless abandon gets you?”

“I saved many yesterday, I saved many more the days before; I’ll keep on marching until I’m done, then I’ll rest.” Ser Vincent was resolute on this. He appeared more like stone, set and stubborn weathered and world worn, speaking a tone akin to cold rock.

“It would be poetic if not cliché,” Blueblood remarked, placing the stained glass back on the platter. He leant forwards after Ser Vincent rolled his own eyes. “Is that what we’ll write on your epitaph?” Blueblood dismissed Platinum service with a wave of his hand, the old stallion soon departing. Only the sleepy song from the record player was heard for the few passing heartbeats.

“I’m not suicidal, I just know when I can do the job. I have backed off at the right time.” Vincent then gestured to his wall with a shaking hand. “Been through worse, been through better, and always got the job done.” He downed his drink, relishing the crisp, bitter flavour. “I didn’t fail my mission, I retrieved those crates and delivered your letter. Didn’t that sound simple enough? And still I came out on top knowing I'd have to rest after this. I understand now.” He then leant forward with scrutinising eyes.

“Forgive my curiosity, but what was the purpose of the letter?”

“That is between the princess and me.” With that curt reply, Ser Vincent reclined back, his body wrecking with pain. It must have showed because the Prince raised his brow.

“Ser Vincent, nopony can question your record. I don’t doubt you as a knight. I know that this lesson means you will take a longer breather, so what, you’ll only work weekdays unless there’s an emergency? Given you duties, when will there not be?”

Vincent wanted to protest but was silence by Blueblood raising his hand. The music still in the air drew long notes, light and whimsically saddening.

“As your friend, I’ve sat by long enough. You’ve become stronger so many times, but I can’t smile this one off with you again, I can’t laugh it off simply because you’ve done something remarkable. I can’t ignore how eager you are to work, either between potion crafting or outside fighting Fate’s-know-what.”

Prince Blueblood then rose to his hooves, his magic pushing the chair neatly back into place. Stallions were sturdy creatures, and His Grace was certainly chiselled from rock. It made his next statement look resolute as he admired the mapped wall.

“If not for these then I’d would have given up long ago,” he said as he magicked the pages to reveal over a hundred wonderful places captured in silver graphite. There was also colour, or at least just one. It was Vincent’s favourite art style— a blue oasis shimmered in a desert of grey, beneath a bluer sky, simply because that was the most eye-catching detail.

In truth it was based upon how he sees the world when magic flows through him. The background fades and whatever moves has its colours intensify. Of the soaring fire bat, he captured the yellow streaks. Later, he then drew Hallow Shades from his favourite vantage point, the night sky silver but the light of the village windows golden. This trend was set throughout and seen in every picture.

He didn’t know what to draw for Ponyville, his first southern mission. There was a lot of fear used against the innocent there. He didn’t like mission like that.

“What’s your point? I like to draw my missions, it’s relaxing.” Vincent didn’t see how all of this mattered. He could understand his friend getting upset with him, he figured it was something that happened after a bad mission, as it had done in the past, but the wall was never brought into it. He didn’t get an answer, other than a shake of the head.

The prince stopped using his magic, hiding away the places the knight would one day like to return to. Someday.

“For far too long I’ve understood why you never sit still, Vincent.” His cryptic message brought a frown to the knight’s features. The Prince then turned on hoof and walked towards the door. “Get some rest, I believe I’ll be needing my guard soon for something I have planned.”

Ser Vincent shrugged, planting the bottle on window shelf before swinging his legs up to rest on his bed. His breathing hurt less now thanks to his bandages but his bones were stone grinding against one and other, chaffing the taught rope that made his muscles. Resting on a bed was heavenly.

He glanced to the door just as His Majesty, Prince Blueblood looked back.

“I’m sorry to have ruined your evening, Your Majesty.” He paused to look to his socks, contemplation shifting his features. He looked back with a gratuitous spark in his sincere eyes. “And thank you for your concern.”

A fond smile sprouted on the prince’s muzzle.

“Not yet you’re not. As for now, I am waiting on a letter. Rest well.”

Author's Note

So that's it for the first installment of Ser Vincent in his own series. That's right. There will be a sequel. And it will be in a series.

The Changing States of Knight series begins here.

Please like if you favourite and please please please comment. Feed back is always appreciated.

Sequel: Knight to B4

Chapter One

He was the last one off the train.

The ponies that had left before him were unclothed, care free country folk; clothing was a luxury, and inconvenience for some pegasi, but typically fashion was an acquired taste in this culture. Cutie marks were exposed for all to see, a proud testament of skill and specialty. Fur adorned their bodies, from the hooves, to the tips of their three-digited hands, to the tips of their pointed ears, and sensitive areas received a more modest amount of coverage— all in all, Equestrians used clothing for harsher environments or the winters. For some it was a distinguishing feature, an example being the silver earth pony donning a pink shirt.

They were generally expressive creatures these ponies, shown through dexterous ears flicking to the sound of the whistling train and conversations, shimmering crystal eyes conveying mirth, lips slipped to be bit in order to withhold laughter at somepony else’s expense, and tails whipped angrily at being tugged despite the calm demeanour of the victim.

He was the exact opposite.

It was certain that he’d garner the attention of others. The history-scarred attire was an abomination aesthetically: the grassy long coat, though evidently enduring, bore a clawed lapel and loops of punctures riding over his right shoulder. It was left open enough for armour reminiscent of hydra hide, both in viridian colour and scaled fashion to be observed. A belt was wrapped around the tapered waist, squared pockets jingling due to contents. The gloves were peelings, all three digits of his right hand charred at the tips.

That tall stranger had a conspicuous feature. A timber hood swallowed a dulled metallic masquerade ball mask that protruded out, a fragile memory of its former self. Chipped, scrapped, and bearing a hairline crack. It obscured his face entirely. The only indication of identity was the chocolate toned tail, hanging short and limp from behind; no cutie mark stamped anywhere to be seen.

All in all, he was quite the eyesore upon the station platform. The ponies couldn’t help but shoot him a passing glance, a wary stare out of the corner of their eye, a curious look over their shoulder. It did not bother him. He was a stallion covered head to toe in garb, but he knew it was more than that.

He spotted a map upon the wall by the station cabin entrance and migrated towards it. Flecks of distant swamps fell from his boots as he scanned his surroundings, making sure to ever so slightly cock his head in response to somepony who stared longer than desired. Upon arrival he pulled out a letter from an inner pocket, stamped by a wax seal depicting a gold and platinum compass rose: the seal of His Majesty, Prince Blue Blood. On the other side, the name “Princess Twilight Sparkle” was upon it. What wasn’t written was the phrase “For her eyes only”, though the hooded figure could pick up on that.

“She is located in the town library—honestly, how else would one tempt a book worm to leave?— and I request that she receives this letter post haste! Then you may return to your main priority.”

Prince Blue Blood’s words did have an air of truth to them, like a foggy memory attempting to become clearer. The hooded figure recalled a time when the Princess of Friendship was a recluse, a studious soon-to-be scholar of the arcane. It was no secret to anypony that Princess Celestia’s student was this way back when.

He could only see one library in the moderately sized town of Ponyille, making it easy to trace the short path between the train station and his destination. With the path memorised he began to depart, his gaze lingering on the map as he vacated the premise, his mind slipping to his task.

He was not a courier for the Prince, no, he was nothing as demeaning. No offence to mailmares and the like, he thought. He simply had no desire for such thing, and the Prince knew that. There was a grander reason for his visit: he had to retrieve several items of interest to the crown as swiftly as possible.

’So I AM a glorified courier.’ Though struck by the bitter taste of the revelation, he couldn’t withhold the hidden smirk beneath the mask.

Minutes along the beaten path his boots struck cobblestone streets. All throughout the walk, other than the curious glances, the sound of metal sliding upon metal accompanied every stride. His armour whispered to him, asking to be lain down to rest. Soon, he thought, soon he’d be done, and by sun down he’d be in bed. For now he’d press on, saving his strength through a slouch and gentle pace.

The town was pleasant enough. Nopony got by without a friendly greeting, no step was without the scent of treats growing stronger, and no sour mood was present to dampen these ponies. A tranquil town from afar, but a lively town square of idle chit-chat, playful foals, and general lollygagging. The day was kind, Princess Celestia’s blessing brightening many fragrant gardens, the aroma riding the late spring breeze. With nary a cloud in the sky, for this day, with ponies experiencing the warmth of a close community, Ponyville was rather picturesque for the new comer.

To be amidst these country folk who bartered with gusto, smiled with sweet sincerity, and laughed away the days of youth was many things for him.

Merry.

Warming.

Overwhelming.

A few times he’d been approached from an oncoming pedestrian, who’d give him a once over, to which he’d return a cock of the head, and they’d both pass one and other. If they waved, he nodded in kind, exaggerating the motion to make up for lack of expression. They never seemed satisfied, or rather, were not prepared it seemed. He could feel their gaze.

Everpony’s gaze.

“I understand that you’ve been wanting to take on the southern territory for quite some time, yes, it was inevitable given where you’ve been.”

“Five years? You’d think it would have been four.”

“I signed the papers, you see, there are few guards in the southern territory and I find that rather… disturbing. My proposal for more garrisons and bodies in the south has been approved. I want you to be one of the many faces representing the guards as a member of our elite. Fates above no, you are not alone in this. Even if I do think so highly of your skill, neither of us are fools. You will be the face of Equestria’s finest.

For now, you will carry out these missions: to deliver this letter and retrieve what has been lost from us.”

Prince Blue Blood's approval was reassuring, but as the figure turned a corner, his gloved hand stroked the muzzle of the mask. The face of Equestria’s mightiest? Perhaps he was an outstanding member of his branch, but to be the first thing that came to mind whenever ponies thought that? For his face to become the one everypony thought of? He could not see how that would help anyone. He shook the thought out of his head, a low growl muffled by the mask. If he is to be stationed in the south, ordered to respond first to any threats, he would do so. The eyes of the many can be ignored so long as he felt he was doing a good job. That was highly respectable. He had his duty to think of.

Speaking of which, he took in his surroundings after realising that he hadn’t had to correct his path to avoid anypony in a while. He looked to the scene before him and tensed, energy surging back into him. It was a simple road, unremarkable in and of itself. Thatched cottages leant against one and other, doors and windows closed without any sign of activity within. Businesses loomed overhead, the darkened display windows bearing faceless mannequins that met his own blank glance. He took a wary step that echoed upon contact. Save for a dead leaf in an updraft there was no other indication of life.

“Strange.” His weary voice was soft, the shallow end of a baritone. It pierced through the mask clear enough to deliver his caution. “A packed town square, a warm day, peak time… but not a single store open or customer roaming the streets?” His head swerved as he picked up the pace, his slouch gone and hands clenching. Nopony to his left, nopony to his right, and here he was, stuck to the side of deserted road in an otherwise busy town.

He walked tall, back straightened and with a pace shy of swift. It was probably him overanalysing everything, to make up for the fatigue, as he expected somepony to walk out into the open. They didn’t. His fingers flexed, curled, and then flexed again during his stroll. He was about halfway down the road when he heard it: cart wheels rolling by his side.

It was a rather flamboyant cart that came to a halt before him, having emerged from a small alcove. A large chest of sort sat on top, a bright mixture of fuchsia and party pink that was trimmed with golden edgings. Three balloons-- blue, yellow, blue-- were stamped upon the front alongside a note.

He had stopped the moment it had eerily crept out. Truth be told he’d never thought something so… colourful could be quite as ominous as this particular cart. Eyeing the note he crept up to it, shifting his gaze to the alley it had come from upon arrival. Nothing— the space available shouldn’t have been able to conceal it in the first place. Tilting the note to catch the light of day he read it.

‘Hi! If you’re new to Ponyville press the big red button on the side of the cart for a surprise! Or if you’re not new to Ponyville then you can press it anway!’

He leant to the side and, indeed, there was a large red button begging to be pressed. It was the function that caused him to pause after letting the letter hang limp. Why in the whole wide world would a stranger be expected to be press the button? More so, who would desire such a thing? Either way, the note implied the locals would be used to such a strange phenomenon.

‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained,’ he thought as the button clicked upon being pressed. Truth be told, the temptation was rather strong. He scampered back when the cart whirled and mechanisms ticked.

The chest erupted into an elaborate setup composed of an oven flanked by two candy-striped tubes, waving flags, and trumpets blaring an upbeat melody. The cacophonous contraption of a thousand fan fares quickly lost his focus when a nimble pink pony cartwheeled from the alley beside him.

A flash of gold appeared beneath the hood, quickly dissipating as the mare hopped around and sung with great enthusiasm.

“Welcome, welcome, welco~ome, a fine welcome to you!”

She bounced over towards him whilst he was stupefied. His mask dipped to her waist, where her hand disappeared behind her back.

“Welcome, welcome, welco~me,” she continued, bright blue eyes blazing with glee, “How do you do?”

The hand retrieved a bugle before blasting it by his head. He flinched at the sound, feeling her press her side against him and spin across his back. In his efforts to keep his sight locked on her, he lowered his stance and spun around, finding nothing. The sound of a bass drum being struck caused him to face the front once more.

“Welcome, welcome, welco~ome, hip-hip hurray!” She struck the comically large drum in time to the beat as she skipped around the cart. The earth pony then launched the harnessed drum down the alleyway before dancing a merry jig.

“Welcome, welcome, welco~ome to Po~ny~ville tod~ay!” she finished, sliding to her knees and spreading her arms wide. Having the show finally come to an end, he finally got a chance to observe the one pony flash mob.

The panting mare was a little pleasantly plump, soft in a lot of her features and face but hardly pudgy. She had the broadest of smiles, her complexion welcoming and her eyes shining with mirth. Her frizzy, curled mane and tail were a sharper pink than her coat, matching the carts colours; her cutie mark was of three balloons, the same ones on what he assumed was her little contraption.

Seconds after recovering himself from the musical ambush, he shook his head of the cobwebs. He brought a fist to the mask’s muzzle and coughed.

“Wait for it!” she chirped in a sugary voice, raising a finger to stop him. The oven then dinged and door fell open. Inside lay a golden sponge cake, the scent surging through the air and taking refuge amidst his olfactory senses. Like a coiled spring let loose the mare jumped to her hooves, clapping her hands in glee. At that moment the tubes exploded, launching confetti into the air.

“Yeah!” Her cheer accompanied the rain of rainbow ribbons, the heavily garbed figure watching their decent. “Sometimes I forget and switch the cake batter and the confetti around and ponies end up with a really messy- but delicious- welcome!” She then giggled into her hand. Meanwhile, he was brushing off the mess perched upon his shoulder.

“You know…” he started slowly, picking off the confetti resting on his muzzle, “as far as welcomes go this was definitely… memorable.” True, he doubted he’d receive anything more bizarre and bewildering as this in the future. At least, in a positive way.

“Teehee, thanks!” Her sweet tone complimented her ecstatic demeanour—something that, although he had run into from time to time, he couldn’t get used to. In an instant she swiped the cake from the oven, plus the plate, and rushed towards him. Up close she came to shoulder height. With her free hand she snatched his and shook it until it was numb. “My name’s Pinkie Pie! What’s yours, mister?”

A familiar name, one that pulled out a summary like a file from the ‘Prince Blue Blood’s account’ cabinet.

“I am as of yet to meet this… Pinkie Pie. An element bearer, of Laughter I believe, but has caused nought but distain in those who attended a previous Grand Galloping Gala. Rest assured, half spoke venomously for the sake of spite and half bickered of a ruined evening at the hands of a country bumpkin partying like an uncultured fool. I’ll let you form your own opinion of the Avatar of Harmony. Just keep her away from me.”

The Prince was, generally, wary of all ponies and typically hard to please. If he ever spoke highly there was often truth to his words, but there were times when he wasn’t as good judge of character as he claimed to be. Often with commoners.

‘And somehow the fall after pride was their fault.’ he thought.

“Ser Vincent,” he said with professional pride. He was about to embellish further until the cake was pressed into him. He looked between her and the delicious smelling desert before tilting his head to ask the silent question now on his mind. She didn't respond, instead ensured that his spare hand did have a grip on the plate.

“Ooh, sounds important, Vinny! Do you mind if I call you Vinny? Just ‘cuz I kind of make up nick names for my friends; you can call me Pinkie! All my friends call me Pinkie.” She stopped shaking his hand and took a step back. With crooked finger to her lips beneath a thinking brow, she eyed the stunned new comer. She hummed as his attention dropped to the cake.

Friends? In such a short space of time? Those two thoughts stirred in his mind like hornets refused entry to the hive, alongside the one bee picketing the sign that read ‘what the heck do I do with this cake?’ One simply could not make friends in less than ten seconds, or so he believed. Not to say he thought negatively of her. On the contrary, he did have cake and a welcome wagon literally rolled out for him. She struck him as simply overbearing but hardly as bad as the stuck ups in Canterlot would want everypony to believe.

Then again it had been less than five minutes.

“Say…” her drawl piqued his interest. “What’s with the get up?” She gestured to his form before leaning in and squinting up to him. “You off to some fancy dress party or something?” She stuck a finger into one of the holes in his shoulder. Evidently, when his muzzle craned to her invading appendage the motion went over her head as she continued. “You really, really need somepony to fix this up, Vinny. Luckily, your new gal pal Pinkie knows another gal perfect for the job! I know a gal or guy for anything and everything!” she chirped before her bright eyes locked onto his mask, specifically, the visible hairline crack on the snout. She reached for it.

“Rarity could easily—huh?!”

Before she could land a touch, his free hand struck with lightning speed and a whip of the wind. He caught her with firm grasp, not painfully clamping around her wrist but sturdy enough to remove any ounce of free movement.

She’s just too curious, not an excuse for any harm.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologised with sincerity, her ears wilting. With a sheepish smile, her eyes shifted to the side. “I should’ve guess you didn’t want any pony touching this, huh?” Her hand slid back out of his loosening grasp, retreating to her side as she scuffed the curb with her hoof. He released an amused sigh, a sound that made her eyes and ears perk back up.

“Since you’re a quick study I see no reason to hold a grudge.” His voice was gentle still, mirth warming the tone as he shook his head. “Though I must ask that you don’t touch my apparel, especially the mask.” He tapped his mask once, earning an earnest nod from Pinkie.

“Sure thing, Vinny!” It surprised him how quickly she returned to her bubbly state. “I’ve gotta ask though--“

He didn’t want to answer. He never wanted to answer. They didn’t need to do this. Just take it at face value: he’s an over-garbed stallion, nothing more. He drew a shaky breathe, a thousand other answers writhing on his tongue, a thousand prepared lies.

“--Where ya going, big guy?”

He straightened himself up, blinking beneath the mask. Maybe he was just too tired.

“I have been tasked to find and deliver this letter to Princess Twilight,” he stated, pulling out half of the mentioned item just enough to be seen, “and then I have another task that will require my attention.” Vincent tucked the letter back into his inner breast pocket before looking past Pinkie. His gaze settled on the distant library.

“Oh? Twilight’s got mail huh? No problamo, come on!” She once again snatched his free hand, “I’ll take you straight there!”

She tried to hop away with him in tow but barely made a single leap. She bounced back with an elasticated motion, surprised by how grounded he was. He barely budged. She blinked before putting more effort in, slowly adding more strength. She only ceased after rooting her hooves to the ground and using all her might.

“You know, Vinny,” she grunted, “It helps if you move too.” Pinkie instantly returned to trying to gain ground, earning a reluctant step.

“Excuse me, but what exactly am I supposed to do with this?” He emphasised his point by both nodding to the cake and raising it. His inquiry was something he had been holding back for a while, but with him being on the move again, it seemed important that he found out what she expected him to do with a full sponge cake. She didn’t honestly expect him to eat it did she? He was out in the middle of the street. Was he supposed to carry this everywhere he went from now on?

She stopped tugging to erupt in childish laughter, her joyous moment ending with a snort and an eye roll.

“You eat it, duh.” She spoke as if it was the simplest, obvious answer, and the fact that it was irked him. Pinkie shook her head before attempting to move him once again. “What else did you think you could do with it?” He relented a single step, spurring her on. Gradually he moved like a train leaving a station for its intended destination, picking up enough speed for Pinkie to skip along with him in tow. “Come on! Twilight’s is just up ahead!”

And so he followed the energetic mare, disorientated and with cake.

Author's Note

Hoping for a slightly new take on the HiE genre and anthro genre too. Where ponies keep the nudist aspects of their society due to cutie marks.

Also inspired by Gentleman J's Journey of Graves. Good read on humanised MLP universe, highly recommended.

Chapter Four

He’d apparently been lead directly to town hall, a quaint little affair. In what he was quickly establishing as the Ponyville trend, buildings of distinguishable significance stood out from the rest. It was a cylindrical, two storey construct composed of cream timber and a chocolate drop roof. Clearly weather worn but constantly maintained to counter, given the refurbished balconies. Save for the patriotic outdoor tapestries and diamond crossed windows it was relatively plain.

“Here she is.” Applejack came to a stop by the steps leading to the entrance. “You can find yer crates inside, sugar cube.”

‘Between that or Vinny I’d rather have the latter.’

It would be rude, and quite frankly, petty at this stage to point out he should really be addressed in a more formal manner, but seeing as Applejack had helped him he could not justify it. She wasn’t disrespecting him. She’d been a rather good tour guide on the short journey, a pleasant companion. Whether it was the family name or the size of the town, it seemed everypony knew the farmer. He’d let it slide.

“Thank you for your help and company, Miss Applejack. You certainly bring out the warmth in Ponyville.” His gratitude brought another broad smile to her lips.

“Aw, shucks, it’s just ‘cause I get to know my customers well enough to be friends with them is all. Mighty kind of you to say.” She descended a step before gesturing back where they come from. “I’ll be heading back to check on Apple Bloom, stop by if you have time after all this. Be nice to have a friendly face pop by… erm, figuratively, of course. Take care, Ser Knight!” She waved as she walked past and he returned the gesture.

‘I guess Canterlot simply can’t handle your hospitable demeanour, Miss Applejack. Their loss.’

Sometimes the Prince offered insight into an individual Vincent was to encounter one way or another, personality traits of note embedded into an opinion. He gathered the Element of Honesty was rustic, but was greatly pleased to have a met her anyhow. Sparing one last glance behind him, he turned to enter town hall.

Cool. Far from the balmy exterior, the rush of refreshing air filtered through the layers of hardened cloth and metal, making for an invigorating entrance. It was certainly spacious, perhaps twice as wide as the library, then again it did have to accommodate for the forward stage. Four viewing platforms were available on the upper floor, leading to the outside from where the pegasi likely entered from. The wood was stained and polished, the care for the hall shining brightly beneath the light pouring in from the arched windows. Every step echoed, one or two creaking as he ventured further in. It would certainly pack one hundred. He imagined the many scuff marks belonged to chairs that had been stored somewhere.

Vincent spotted a few conspicuous crates nestled together by the stage. Three were as tall as he, broad but lacking in depth. Another was hidden behind, which came to about thigh height and was much fatter than the other. That was the point when the sight troubled him: there were only four.

Upon closer inspection he could confirm without a doubt that these were crates he had been looking for. Each had been branded with a distinguishable symbol: a large anvil with a blazing sun rising over it. The acronym of R.A.F was footed beneath each branding, signifying their origins from the Royal Armory Forge in Trottingham.

He’d have to speak to the one running the establishment. A quick glance around revealed an office door by the stage, the name "Mayor Mare" etched into the window in fine cursive.

As soon as he had seen it the door had swung open. A cyan pegasus hovered out backwards, rainbow tail flicking fiercely to distort the otherwise relaxed, reclined demeanour.

“Look, we’d be doing Cloudsdale a huge favour!” There was a light rasp to her voice, rough but not displeasing. “We take an extra few tier two stratus clouds for the autumn and in return we can ask for more rainbows in the summer!”

A good look as she floated by revealed her pegasi physique to be in prime condition. Generally, pegasi were lithe creatures, multiple times more nimble in the air with their grand wings than on the ground with hooves. Their strengths were in the wings, and yet, she showed signs of athleticism in her toned form.

Perhaps her lifestyle was linked to her cutie mark, a solid white cloud firing a rainbow bolt of lightning. She certainly belonged in the air; there was not a feather unkempt nor a single dip in altitude despite the soft beating of wings. With arms folded beneath her small bust she shot a cocky grin towards the door.

“You can’t go wrong with a little bit more Rainbow, eh?”

“Quite,” came the stoic response of a mature mare elsewhere, “But that aside, the added days of coverage would run into rain cloud run-off days which we cannot afford to give up for safety reasons, Miss Dash.”

In response, ‘Miss Dash’ waved her off with a scoff.

“Oh come on! You gave us a blank day in the schedule!” She folded her arms under her chest, once again shaking her head. “It was one light shower and I even told you it didn’t have to be mi-“

Rather than stepping into what seemed to be weather negotiations, Vincent opted to stay quiet. More out of natural habit than intention. However, upon her striking magenta eyes locking onto his form he required a new approach. He took in her expression, mild surprise written from the tips of her upward pointed ears down to the sharp chin of a short muzzle. Her rainbow mane was jagged and wild.

“Pardon me, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he began with raised hands, “I’m merely looking for whomever is in charge.” She perked a brow before Vincent’s attention was drawn back to the door.

“That would be me then, ah… Mister?”

The earthpony that stepped out of the doorway reeked of small town bureaucracy, which was not necessarily a negative in his mind; her coffee latte fur coat was adorned with a business skirt, splitting to reveal a scroll bound in sapphire ribbon on her thigh; the white button-shirt was snug, the purple ascot tie reaching down the hem. A silver mane curled over to the left of her face, her ear twitching as she pinched the arm of her glasses and pulled them down under her analytical stare. He could smell ink conflicting with a sweet perfume.

“Ser Vincent, of the Solaris Knights.” He straightened up and bowed his head. “A pleasure.”

“Mayor Mare.” Though pleasant, her voice revealed some scepticism. “Excuse me, but you don’t seem like a knight.”

“I’ll say.” Miss Dash’s interruption marked her sure-hoofed landing and drew Vincent’s and the mayor’s attention. She eyed with blatant cynicism, honing onto his mask. The knight retrieved his orders and handed them to the elder mare, never letting his hidden gaze leave Dash.

“As it will state, I am here to organise the retrieval of these lost crates of arms and armour.” His tone was calm and warm like the sun soaked sea – had to be, to follow his secondary directive of being the face of the Solaris Knights and to placate the spying mare.

“Is that all?” She queried, maintaining her apprehension and stepping closer.

“Actually, with only four being here, and five being needed, I must now locate the fifth.” She was trying to look under his mask, to peer through his eye holes. It wouldn’t work, of course. She reached shoulder height and he could simply look away and have her glare at the cloth and plates obscuring him.

“Hold on, Ser Knight…” With his mask already turned to face Mayor Mare he spotted her look up from the letter to him. She raised her dainty hand whilst backing up into her office. “Please wait here whilst I verify the authenticity of the letter through an aura glass. I hope you understand, given the nature of the circumstances.”

He witnessed her both gesture the crates behind him whilst her eyes quickly scanned him. Between her and the leering Dash, he guessed they didn’t believe him. A temporal problem, recurring but easily fixed in moments.

“Whatever eases your mind, Miss Mare.” He dipped his head and moved towards the crates as she departed into her office.

An aura glass was a basic tool used by government officials to test the authenticity of documents they received. It bore a resemblance to a magnifying glass, save the lens was rose hue and did not enlarge whatever it was aimed at. Peering through would cause the silver boarders of a royal message glow with a runic code unique to the royal family. Very difficult to replicate, costly in both wallet and punishment too for those who'd try.

He stopped before the crates, turning to fold his arms at the sight of Miss Dash hovering by. This time she was studying the bite mark that had pierced through the shoulder of his coat. He didn’t like it.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Being polite was always a good start.

“Okay, so, you look like you could be a knight, sound like it, but I don’t get it.” Her response drew a pregnant pause. She simply landed by his side and brought a hand to her chin. “Like, why would a knight be picking up a few boxes?”

“These are guard-standard weaponry and armour, Miss Dash. The crown has decided that they should not be left out for anypony to acquire.” He kept his tone official, allowing his arms to fall behind him rather than continue to hold the crossed-arm stance. "Miss Applejack can attest to that, and were she not the Element of Honesty I would have her detained under suspicion of harboring military equipment. As is, I believe when she stated that she thought all the crates, and all their contents, were brought here."

“Yeah, that I get but why a knight?” she pressed, raising her brow. “Seems a bit much. Those guys fight all kinds of monsters and bad guys, big scary dudes with attitudes that a good kick from Equestria can fix.” Then a cocky grin sprouted all too naturally across her muzzle. “Of course, not every knight gets to tango with Nightmare Moon, Discord, and King Sombra and win.”

Miss Dash then inspected her knuckled with extreme indifference, despite the remaining presence of smirk.

“Yup, got those three under my belt: helped save the world not once or twice but three times.” She then waved him off. “I’ll admit Twi’s big bro and foal sitter totally won at the royal wedding but that’s only because they beat us to it.”

This was certainly a claim to fame worthy of boasting about and certainly put his achievements into an uncomfortable perspective for comparison between him and a civilian. The fact that she referred to the princess so casually meant she was close and that’s when it finally clicked.

“Name’s Rainbow Dash.” She took to the air and completed a swift summersault, keeping airborne to strike a pose. “Fastest Wonderbolt recruit in all of Equestria, Element of Loyalty, and the only pony to complete a sonic rainboom!” She swiftly grounded herself and shot out her hand. “Sup?”

He shook her hand but his mind was elsewhere.

“Miss Rainbow Dash. Boastful, brash, and complete glory hound; her patience and tact, or lack thereof, did contribute to the destruction of the Gala. Still, we cannot choose an element bearer, and as such, the Element of Loyalty has put herself in harm’s way and stood by her peers’ sides time and time again. I guess one would need some positive aspects to outweigh high levels of arrogance.

…

If you’re going to look at me like that then please put your mask on already.”

“Well Miss Dash, I--”

He was going to thank her, express the gratitude of an elite regiment and a country for its protection. He was going to be sincere and let his honest admiration of a civilian taking on such an important role in multiple end-world scenarios.

But she had to flip his arm over and pull up his sleeve.

“AHAH!” Her cry was for nought. Her confused stare lingered on the odd sight. The mouth of his glove had engulfed half his forearm over his scaled armour. A bracer of battered silver and dirtied copper clamped over the seam and up to the wrist. “There’s more? What you hiding?”

Rainbow attempted to release her grip, but hadn’t noticed the subtle snaring of his own, trapping her wrist. She looked up to see him burning a stare from beneath the mask, an indignant gaze that passed through the metal and conveyed a simple message for a passing heartbeat. She felt her ears wilt and throat tighten as she saw… something under the mask. Not clearly enough to identify but enough to know something was off.

“Please. Do not… do what it is you are thinking of doing.” Vincent tone was cold, having scared off the warmth when his mood dropped a few pegs. Such was the waters below the warm surface. What was with this town and the invasion of one’s personal space? He released her before peeling his sleeve back further. Vincent raised his armoured arm, drawing it to him but reaching her eye level.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight. The bracer had a badge of sorts socketed into it, pinned under four claws, a golden sun with a platinum guard’s helm facing back at her, empty but vigilant, ready and waiting. Gashes and scrapes had chewed at its edge but the core was unblemished.

“Do you believe me now?” His inflection made sure that there was no question about it, and Miss Dash nodded and took a step back. That was the badge of a Solaris Knight, her majesty’s seal guarded by whomever could wear the mind-set of a vigilant warrior. Equestria’s elite. “I’d prefer to be treated with the proper respect, which does involve not attempting to handle me.”

‘Face of Equestria’s finest.’

He huffed at the thought that crossed his mind, the act startling Rainbow slightly as she rubbed the back of her head.

“Woah, uh, hehe, sorry dude.” Her sheepish apology caused his head to tilt as he rolled his sleeve back down. He observed from the tilted angle as she shrugged. “You’re not exactly guard-ly looking so I thought you were just trying to swipe some loot.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Well guards are, like, all shiny and buff so I thought knights were supposed to be shinier, tougher and awesome… you look tough, I’ll give you that.” Her explanation into what standards she held her countries guardsmen rendered him speechless. That ‘shiny’ aspect of guards was an enchanted gold coating used to ward off telekinesis spells being used to sling soldiers about. Good for practicality and aesthetics in the capital, not so much in the Equestrian wilds in the undergrowth.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” said Mayor Mare upon return. She was reading the scroll with a peaked brow, “His Majesty’s signature seemed to outshine the magic of the identification boarder when looked through the glass, but I managed.” She handed him back the scroll before tidying her ascot tie. “Like looking into the sun,” Vincent heard her mumble.

“He’s the real deal,” Rainbow Dash commented, glancing between the two, “He just showed me his badge.” Vincent bristled beneath it all, his free hand balling up as he pocketed his orders. He really hated it when ponies tried to mess with his attire, and tried to maintain a minimum exposure policy unless it would downright unhelpful. Rare cases if things went his way.

Having Rainbow Dash ‘succeed’ almost made him feel like he…lost? He shook his head as Mayor Mare groaned, blaming the petty feeling on an encroaching sense of weariness.

“Rainbow, please tell me you haven’t been a bother to him, have you?” There was a slight sense of desperate pleading in her voice.

“What?! No way.” Dash shot him an uncertain look, noting how he was massaging the wrist of the arm she exposed as he stared blankly back. “Well I said I was sorry and we’re cool now right?” He kept quiet, noting the vials poking out of his belt pouch. “Right?”

There was, to his surprise, a large amount of concern in her raspy voice. He had hoped to tease her little but not worry her. He pushed the vials into the pouch until they were secure and put on a warm voice.

“Mmm? Oh, pardon my rudeness.” He turned away from Rainbow to incline his head to Mayor Mare. “Rainbow was simply curious about a few things— one or two I couldn’t answer-- but nothing I’m not used to I assure you.” He saw Miss Dash’s ear twitched at how he phrased that. Not even he knew why a knight was needed for this task.

“So then what will you be doing next?” Mayor Mare queried whilst shooting Rainbow a pointed glare, which was met with a strained toothy grin.

“I’ll have to search for the remaining crate whilst organising a retrieval of the ones in our current possession. For now, I’ll start with the latter.” He inclined his head further, hands behind his back. “Thank you for your help. Keeping these away from others was a wise decision.”

“Oh, it was nothing, Ser Knight,” Mayor replied with a humble smile. “It was hardly a chore, seeing as Applejack was the one who delivered them.”

“The Solaris Knights appreciate all efforts and forms of cooperation, ma’am,” he replied as he came to full height. “No matter how small.” He turned to leave, glancing to Rainbow. “And Miss Dash?” She perked up at him, ears, eyes, and startled expression honed onto him.

Vincent didn’t let his gaze linger and walked. He had taken up too much of their time, something he tried to avoid. He moved on, boots heavy and lightly laced with a sluggishness associated with energy conservation. He couldn’t let it show, though. He couldn’t look weak in the slightest.

“We’re cool.” Vincent finally stated, rolling his shoulder to soothe an itch he would never scratch until he was home. However long that was. Probably an eternity if the past few days were anything to go by.

“Hey!” He was by the exit when Rainbow whipped beside him in a blur of cyan. She hovered as she held a guilty look. “Let me help.”

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Dash.” His dismissal earned an irked snort.

“What happened to ‘knights appreciate all efforts and forms of cooperation’, Vinny?”

“It’s Ser Vincent,” he corrected, almost snapping. He kept composed; she was earnest in expression and her eyes were fierce enough to establish she wasn’t taking no for an answer. One could really see the soul of a pony from their large eyes. With a sigh he rubbed his neck, slightly loosening the obscuring cloth.

“Though we appreciate aid, we do not make a habit of requesting it from those we protect. It defeats our purpose. I suppose, however, there’s no harm in borrowing you as a messenger.” An ecstatic smile stretched across her muzzle, eye widening. “Princess Twilight Sparkle offered to help organise the retrieval, so please relay a message on my behalf.”

Rainbow then pushed through the door, her wings beating quicker and resulting in a shaky hover. The prospect of either redeeming herself or helping a knight seemed to be boosting her mood.

“Lay it on me!” she said.

He stepped outside to stand close by, looking up just enough to let the sun light stop before the eyes of the mask.

“Ser Vincent requests a small retrieval team to collect four crates of standard arms and armour from the town hall of Ponyville, south of the Canterlot Gate barracks. He is currently searching for a fifth and will report within the next twenty four hours to verify its location or otherwise.” Vincent cocked his head. “Can you recall that for me?”

“Vincent wants some guys from Canterlot to pick up the goods whilst he looks for more. He’ll get back to you in a day,” she replied instantaneously.

“…Close enough. Perhaps you should let Princess Twilight word it herself.” Rainbow shrugged before giving a casual salute, which earned a huff of amusement.

“You got it. When I get back I wanna hear a couple of stories, ‘kay?” Before he could point out he wouldn’t have time for pleasant conversation, she took off with enough speed to kick up a fierce breeze. She bolted around a corner, the wind vainly trying to peel off his half opened coat by the base. It rode the blast as he stared bewildered at the pace she shot off.

“Wow.”

“She’s dependable, you know,” Mayor Mare said from behind him with pride, “Wonderful pony, reckless and lazy but the best weather pony this town seen in years.”

“No kidding?” he whispered, craning his head over his undamaged shoulder. “Goodbye, Miss Mayor. Have a pleasant evening.”

Slowly he descended the step whilst Mayor Mare returned to work, admiration still gripping him. He barely made it far before another oddity floated past.

A yellow, frilly summer umbrella caught in Rainbow’s wake.

Instinctively he snatched the lost fashion accessory by the handle, his mind temporally taking him to the high society functions Prince Blue Blood attended, in turn meaning Vincent had accompanied him to. If he recalled correctly, these were to be in fashion based on the trivial gossip of nobles.

“Oh, Rainbow Dash!”

Her voice was like the finest of crystal bells. So finely cut it would fit perfectly, and had, in the capital. He recognised that refined, country belle’s cadence, even if it was wailing in dismay. It triggered a memory of His Highness grinding his teeth as he growled out a name.

“Rarity.”

The name of the mare who assaulted the Prince Blueblood whilst Vincent was off-duty.

“Oh… it’s you.”

He turned to face her.