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.

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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.

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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 Notes:

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