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.

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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.