Knight to B4.

by Account No Longer Active

First published 5th of May, 2015

Ser Vincent, the masked knight, known to diamond dogs of Ponyville as 'The Nopony', returns after having been unmasked.

Less than ten days after the ordeal of Ser Vincent being exposed to the small town of Ponyville and he was already heading back. He's not pleased in the slightest, but it is just for bodyguard duty as Prince Blueblood confers with Princess Twilight about official business. The stallion mask helps but he can see in the eyes of a few that they're aware of what's beneath. Regardless, as a knight he's sworn to duty and can handle a few fretful glances his way. Of course, it just a question of what to do about the other Elements of Harmony.

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The second story of The Changing States of Knight series.

Chapter One

Author's Notes:

So here is the sequel of 'To See Both Faces', and I cannot stress how important it is to read the first in order to understand the world this is set in. In short: Anthro ponies are tastefully nudists. No rude or explicit material will be described in this story. If you wish to see how this works, again, read the previous one.

As always, please comment and like if you favourite. Feedback is always welcomed. And now back to the story...

The Canterlot Gardens were alive with both flora and fauna. Such a thing was common.

Stone paths lead the way like pebbled streams passing through rich green embankments, flowing under vine-entwined arches. Trees lined the way, shrubs blossoming with fragrant flowers, and in between, all manners of creatures roamed this animal sanctuary. It was where pony and nature connected; aged and tended statues were scattered, depicting historic beings of great importance; flowers from distant lands, of bizarre shapes, of unique magical potential, flooded the hills and mazes that was Princess Celestia’s back yard.

In a small corner, not too far from the rear entrance that the guards used to the castle, stood a newer garden within this public domain. It wasn’t official, nothing here was, but ponies knew the maze portion, ponies knew of the garden party sector, and ponies knew of the alchemy patches.

Yes, ponies with permission could grow mystical plants in certain areas of this patch of land. One would need to see Her Majesty of course, as not just any plant could be plotted here. A large portion of the land had been bestowed to the alchemists of Canterlot, and the castle managed to make a hefty profit on either renting the land out or selling such rare plants.

It was in here, inside a gazebo shaded from the sun by the tall hedge and over hanging trees, that Ser Vincent was sat without his mask.

He was in his usual garb; viridian long coat, earthly pants, freshly cleaned boots. A new pair of gloves sat on the table next to him as worked, as did the metal stallion mask that stared down the long path. Both were in pristine condition. Beneath the coat was a darker woodland shirt, a simple white waist coat brightening his chest. He seemed to have fully recovered, his bruises and cuts nearly all vanished, his jaw and chin freshly shaven. The green eyed human combed his timber locks to sweep to the side, his silvered finger tips returning to mar the white table. A shortened pencil was laid to rest as he regarded the book before him with small smile.

He had finished recuperating from his month long slog of various death defying missions. He had little time to fulfil his little hobby of drawing his missions. Vincent usually took three days to get his pictures to an ideal standard, and quite frankly, they were very decent. He had just finished the background, composed of a farm, for a forest-minx of insectoid appearance. Now he’d try to recall what stood out the most.

It slinked with a feline grace but growled and hissed with a chitin tongue. Blue? Yes, the two pairs of beady eyes filled with hunger were definitely one of the first things that came to mind when he reminisced about the attack and his victory. Aqua saliva, slick and seeping from small mandibles were what came next. The body? Well, the plates moved as one, but were not teal or of similar shade. They would be coloured graphite.

Ser Vincent reached for the large art case with his multitude of colours, and found them to have been slid towards him.

“Eurgh… I hate cats.” He gave an amused huff as his mother turned away to sip from her tea cup.

She had a scholarly air, scented with a fragrant perfume. Golden locks fell to shoulder length, curling upon a scarlet dress. It was silver trimmed and buttoned, befitting the diamond studded earrings. With a wry smile on her ageless features, the elder women looked to him with jade eyes behind thin glasses. Her accent was strange, or English as it actually was, but it was gentle and catching the Canterlot cadence. It was more off-key Trottingham and he’d been told he had something similar himself.

“It’s not just a cat, mother.” His mirth spurned her to lean back.

“God, don’t tell me it can fly as well.” She placed her tea upon its saucer, her tailored pearl-white gloves falling to her lap. They were made for humans with five digits, not ponies with three. “Allergies and arachnophobia… I guess Satan couldn’t settle with putting raisins in cookies.”

“No, it’s still more cat-like than anything else.”

“Cats are evil things, Vinnie. I bet it lays eggs in its victims.”

“Just the one.”

“I knew it.” She then belched into her palm, something that seemed to take her by surprise. “Oh, pardon me.” She giggled, an aged and fine laughter brought about like wine. He smiled with an arched brow. “Roman military, renaissance landscape, and Victorian styles, and the one thing that’s constant throughout history are manners.”

Roaman… Similar to the small Equestrian county where traveling ships docked in the country of Gryphonia, but spelt with the one ‘A’. Victorian England. His parents were English, and so was his heritage, but the Victorian aspect was a historical period. Ancient Eegipt, British Rarj, Common Wealth… all names of time references belonging to him that he won’t ever understand.

Names of the fantastic marvels his people have created, names of harsh times his people pushed through, and names of machines operating at such an extent that if not for his mother and father he’d believed to be of a different magic altogether. But that’s what they were to the boy growing up in another world. Just sounded syllables and streaks of ink he could read. Still, it was nice.

“Don’t ever change, mother.”

Honestly, he couldn’t imagine her any other way. Nor did he want to. She was already good with etiquette and in love with living in Canterlot. Again, the ‘Victorian charm but late twentieth century society’ was her favourite description of his everyday world.

“So which job was that?” For someone who hated cats her eyes could narrow like an irked one. “Out of the fifty or so that left you paralysed in your bed for nine days.”

‘I could talk and eat and… bite that tongue Vincent, bite that tongue.’

“Well since you asked, it was the third of eleven. A pack of mantis cats had found refuge in the farming fields of Hoofendover. All fifteen of them.” He sighed, already knowing where this was going. He reached for his own brew: tea, two sugars, milk, and a hint of ginger.

“Eleven…” She shook her head in dismay, raising a gloved hand to her forehead. “What on earth were you thinking?” One eye, as sharp as a malachite dagger, bore into him. A mother’s sorrow could plunge deep into the hearts of their children, and Vincent was no different. He loved his mother, and he understood that it scared her at times to hear how he lay sieged to villainous beings, pony or otherwise, who could just as easily strike him with lightning or a sword.

But he was content where he worked to the best of his ability, and everypony knew about it. Here he was well respected, here ponies knew of him and his monumental accomplishments. He was carving his own history for humanity here in Equestria.

“Looking back I can see that I pushed myself a bit too far.” She huffed with frustration. He still continued. “But I proved I was capable of doing it all till the last.”

“Speaking of which…” his mother began, changing topic as smoothly as a cat slinks around its prey. He winced, eyes clenching as he realised the pitfall trap he had managed to avoid all week had finally caught him.

“Oh no you don’t!” She stood up, her chair grinded out from under her as she leant over the table. With a deft hand, she hooked her fingers over the neck obscuring cloth and under the shirt. She brought her son closer over the table, meeting his frown. “You’ve been dodging this long enough, so now out with it!”

She wasn’t strong by any means. Heck, she was chest height. But he couldn’t help but obey and not resist.

“Or else you’re grounded.”

“I’m almost twenty five.” He replied flatly.

“And I’m not getting any younger!” He kept silent, his honest face almost stoic save for the glint of smug indifference in his eye. She could squawk all she wanted, she could channel her maternal rage all day, but such things wore out as he aged.

“Mother—mo—mum, please calm down.” Her thin-lipped glare remained as her fingers slipped out. “I’d rather not talk about the details.” He sat back in his seat, glancing to the mask with discomfort.

Ponyville. He had mixed feeling about that town and it showed upon his face with every feature-shifting thought. On the one hand it was an easy success, paling against the gryphon mercenaries pestering caravans. To him, however, it was another reminder of how varied ponies could be.

Like all the other rare instances of being exposed, there was screaming, there was fighting. Save for the accusations it was very typical. He’d once escorted a group of nobles through a mountain path, the detour being rushed due to the pursuing tribe of sasquatch. A harsh enough butt of the head against their rock-like forehead broke off the muzzle. Being suspected of luring those he had been protecting of preparing to dine on their flesh was rather disheartening to say the least.

They did thank him but it was half-hearted and mostly in fear of him as well as looking ungrateful to their peers and Celestia. He’s only ever seen them at functions when he was guarding the prince.

Before all that, before the mask? Surge of melancholy and spite boiled within him as he recalled days, weeks, and months on end where nopony took him seriously. He was either another problem posing as a knight or something to be feared. There was always one pony who cooperated. They told him what needed to be done. Then Vincent was gone, walking between the curious ponies that bombarded him with questions of his people, and those that questioned his authority.

But… Ponyville had something happen that had never happened before. Miss Rarity’s shrill scream rung in his ears the following morning he awoke, hers and the other Element’s frightful stares floating adrift in his mind. Not the best of mornings, to be certain.

Yet, he found an odd warmth to the cake Pinkie Pie had given, long after the delicious treat had gone cold on the train ride home. The sweet scent of Miss Fluttershy’s shampoo was uplifting as he recalled her kindly tending to his wounds, his mind now drawn to the fresh plaster spanning the bridge of his nose. It was an odd sensation, akin to how one becomes aware of the weight of their chest whilst breathing. Miss Rarity’s silken touch on his bare face as she apologised within the hour, seemingly more hurt than he. Then again he tried not to take such things to heart, he was more angry than upset about losing his mask. He recalled the small fillies that disregarded his appearance and welcomed him, the little white one inquiring if he was okay.

It felt so wrong. He doubted he would draw anything for that little town, haven forgotten a reason to return in the first place. He could draw the blasted ogres that he put a stop to, but without a reason to head back to Ponyville it wouldn’t be the same. All he could remember was how the locals looked at him.

“Hey!” A click of the fingers brought him back to his mother standing with her arms folded across her chest. “Given that you spaced out there, you must have been thinking real hard about that little town.” He waved her off.

“It’s just a small town. If it wasn’t for the apple farm and Princess Twilight then it wouldn’t have any other worth of mention.” He said diplomatically as she reached down to her ivory tea cup. “The locals were probably wonderful ponies, and I regret dragging the ogres towards them.” He sighed as she shook her head, a tired and saddened expression taking her features. “If I had known that it would put the Elements of Harmony in harm’s way then—“

“Then you would have confronted the ogres back at the dog den and potentially clawed back in a worse state than you already were in.” Entering from a path to the right came Prince Blueblood. If memory served Ser Vincent correctly, then he had returned the evening before from Baltimare after a decisive meeting in regards to further establishing guards into the south. He fired a merry grin towards Vincent’s mother.

“Good afternoon, Lady Costello, I—“

“Abubub!” She cut off with something she would call a Cheshire cat smile. Whether those cats could grin in such a predatory manner was something Vincent was glad he’d never find out. To this the prince chuckled, shaking his head.

“Forgive me— ahem-- good evening, Emily.” She beamed her own smile, eyes closed as she migrated round to Vincent’s side, her gloved hand trailing the table edge for guidance.

“Good afternoon to you too, Little Blueykins.” Ser Vincent hid a small smirk behind his cup. His jade sight glanced to the splayed-eared, eye-shrunk, grin-strained, mask His Majesty wore and he chuckled into his beverage.

Given how his parents were quarantined to the castle upon arrival, both Ser Vincent’s father and mother wound up getting to know Celestia, and after eight months, other members of royalty. His parents, it is said, got along swimmingly, despite his father’s small town charm. Or rather, because of it. Especially with Princess Celestia and Prince Blueblood’s parents.

Even after the year of being kept to the castle, the two made it a point to keep in touch with both Celestia and Blueblood’s parents, though the latter met up with their human friends once a year. It was said to a joyous occasion too. Vincent didn’t really see much of Prince Blueblood growing up.

So when Blueblood came to be, Emily Costello was quick to give him a nickname that stuck. It wasn’t even as if he could convince her to stop given that his own mother also endorsed the name… his own mother has foal photos of him with a bib bearing that title in gold embroidery.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to tell my son to play safely now?” She asked, resting a hand on Ser Vincent’s shoulder. Any other time she’d simply let him be, but whenever Vincent returned more beaten, bruised, and burnt than usual, she always confronted Prince Blueblood at the earliest.

“He isn’t the one to delegate missions to the board, mother,” Ser Vincent piped up. He rested a hand on top of hers, looking up to her. “The threats go through the knight captain before being passed to the knight commanders and then they’re posted for us to pick from.” With a soothing plight in his eyes, Vincent continued with small smile. “What His Grace had ordered me to do was below my usual threat band and rank, easy recruit work for even the royal guard.”

With a flat stare his mother spoke.

“You mean to say you would have chosen a tougher job?”

“Absolutely.” Vincent visibly flinched under Emily’s fearsome glare. It was at this point Prince Blueblood stepped in with platinum horseshoes.

“He’s correct,” he said whilst drawing attention to an expensive looking briefcase. “I assure you, Emily that I had no idea that the mission to Ponyville would turn out the way it did.” Prince Blueblood then moved to plant his briefcase on the table top, mindful of his knight’s personal effects.

“I don’t suppose this means he’s back to business?” She inquired with bitterness lightly lacing her voice. Vincent for his part leant forward, sitting up straight and placing his hands on his knees. His attention was solely on the prince.

“I’m afraid so,” Blueblood replied with faint smile, “Fret not, its guard duty with a small matter. It should be brief.” It was then that Blueblood glanced down towards Vincent, regarding him with an apprehensive look. With an arched brow and a habitual tilt of the head, he witnessed His Majesty regard his mother with wilted ears and a contrasting hopeful smile. “I think it’s finally time for outpostings, Lady Costello.”

Vincent felt his mother’s hand slip off his shoulder, and when he looked up to her he found a studious mask had taken her. Yes, though she looked as curious as he, his mother had tell-tale signs; she gripped her scarlet skirt with her clenched hand, swallowed a dry throat, and bit her lip when looked away in deep thought. Something had her nervous.

“It’s time to get you back to work.” Clarity took Vincent’s features at the prince’s words.

‘Ah, so that’s what it was.’ She always treated his departures as if they were the last. Nothing new with any guard that’s sent out, but given that Vincent was still recuperating he could see why she’d still be worried. Still, the prince knew he was only nine-tenths of the way to prime condition so he doubted he’d be doing anything strenuous.

“Then I’ll leave you to it, Bluey.” Blueblood’s tail lashed as the rest of him jerked and froze with a toothy smile. She laughed as she leant down and lovingly hugged her son across his broad shoulders. His mother was short, something that she’d whine about in jest as he grew up. “Stay safe and… try not to be so stubborn.”

He grimaced with embarrassment when she planted a kiss atop his head, his body instinctively leaning away. She chuckled as her grip slipped as she walked away.

“Make sure you visit! Your dad wants to make dinner for us all. Feel free to drop by as well, Your Highness. The more the merrier for him.” Vincent’s mother kept the pet names to private corners and low volumes, out of earshot to preserve some dignity.

“I may just do that. Farewell.” Prince Blueblood waved back alongside Ser Vincent, and as she turned a corner, he took a seat. With an exasperated sigh the prince shook his head. “I swear, anypony else but her.”

“So what’s the problem?” Ser Vincent was quick to ask, his eyes locked onto the briefcase.

“No problem as such,” Prince Blueblood dismissed with a flick of his hand, “Simply a bit of bodyguard work as I continue my meeting with the mare who is helping me set up a few outposts. Nice and easy for you.” Ser Vincent heard the briefcase unlock as His Majesty horns sparkled to life. The knight also cocked a brow.

“Outposts but no barracks?”

“I have plans for a forward barracks in Appleloosa, Equestria’s forerunner in its expansion to the south. Trouble is, it doesn’t have a direct line to Canterlot, only having the one railroad to Tailington. Even that only branches off to two other towns. Transportation is key here. For now I’m planning to post sentries in most towns, perhaps members of the reserve guards mixed in to bulk numbers. It would help a few I know of who are unhappy with living in Canterlot and also make room for less incompetent fools.”

Blueblood seemed to magic out some papers to shuffle but his eyes wandered to the open book depicting the bug-cat. He grimaced before shaking away the expression, looking the Ser Vincent with a curious stare.

“You know, I’m rather interested in what you drew for the last mission, Ser Knight.” Vincent folded his arms and tilted his head.

“Really? Well then.” He closed the book before folding his arms once more. “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’ve not yet drawn anything of Ponyville.” He offered a shrug and his voice shifted to one that would suggest dismay at missing a once in a lifetime opportunity, “I found the dangerous element but no matching half, no place I want to go back to see.” Ser Vincent’s face betrayed him. It was clear he didn’t wish to return to Ponyville, and it wasn’t difficult to recall why.

Prince Blueblood simply smiled.

“Well then, the Fates are certainly kind to the both of us.” Ser Vincent tilted his head, apprehension written across his face. “The mare I’m meeting is Princess Twilight Sparkle, at her home in Golden Oaks library.”

Blueblood regarded the knight coolly as a small glare sprouted forth, the jaw also clenching. Vincent swallowed and took a deep breathe, never losing eye contact but slowly releasing the shock and fear that rattled his heart. Malachite eyes fell upon the mask and he steadily reached for it before regarding his prince in an icy manner. The Prince had no worries in how Vincent looked to him and bluntly ignored it.

“I’ll be sure to allow you some time to yourself—you know how these things go time wise—so feel free to… find the thing worth returning to Ponyville for, just keep in mind I would like to return on time, so don’t get lost.”

With jade eyes as cold as the very stone, Vincent replied.

“So when do we leave?”

Chapter Two

Twilight had to admit, she’d never thought that Prince Blueblood’s fourth villa would be so humble.

She was in Baltimare, a small town thriving through trade and voyages with distant lands. Sea salt practically permeated every house and room, and this hillside vista overlooking a busy port, fully docked with large business vessels, was no exception. The train was too early for Spike and would eat into most of his day off so she left him sleeping back at the library. Twilight sat within a relatively small office, one desk, two chairs, three liquor cabinets, four self-portraits, five business cabinets, and a lot of simple naval decorations. Other than that, she found the lack of gold and jewellery made the place seem undeveloped. As in, not yet… Blueblood-ish.

Okay, so it was humble for him.

She had been kindly escorted to her seat in front of a messy desk by the ever gentle Platinum Service. She remembered him from when she was younger, back when that gold fur hadn’t lost its lustre. For now she eyed the door behind her as she straightened up the desk top, a habit everypony told her to break but she saw no logic behind it. Where was the sense in leaving things messy? It wasn’t like this had the ‘artistic’ value that Rarity placed in her inspiration room.

She worked away with lavender magic shuffling the desk top, neatening quills and papers and drawers opened and shut. All the while she thought about the oddity that was meeting with the prince itself.

‘Why couldn’t this happen back in Canterlot?’ A light frown creased her features as she worked to remove the dog-ear ruining a blank parchment with her fingers, her tongue poking out. A thought re-entered her mind, slowing her and her magic as it took her focus. ‘Maybe it’s about the letter and Vincent.’

As she leant back into her cushioned seat, the table now neat and tidy, her eyes rose to the ceiling as memories resurfaced. Her first time encountering him back at the library, a vision of him standing there vigilant, professional, and masked. Words sprung to her mind: statuesque, puzzling, polite, and most prominently, distant.

The second time was as he stood amongst quivering wrecks of his spared enemies: the diamond dogs. He was the same, but he showed consideration. He was offering them a safe haven rather than a dungeon. Was he always like that when he worked? She could believe so. Then when the mask came off…

Those golden eyes were potent, and along with the wisps of magic flowing out she saw the brutal strength in his emotions as he looked at each and every ogre. With breath-taking speed he struck, blocked blows, and with indifference he first regarded the brutes before a fanged sneer became the last thing they saw. He was raw beneath that mask. It made sense when Rarity claimed he had no idea he was making such expressions. They were terrifyingly honest. With that in mind, the image of him looking to the diamond dogs in the aftermath surfaced.

It was brief but… he looked slightly hurt before a stoicism seemed to take him.

The door opened and she turned to face Blueblood. Handsome smile, ivory tuxedo, brushed tail, cutie mark groomed, charming saunter; yep, the pinnacle of Canterlot deception. He strolled over to her whilst bowing his head, a well-cared for alabaster horn catching the light of morning.

“Good morning, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” he said with an elegant tone, “I apologise for keeping you waiting. I had to deal with a local lord attempting to swing his weight of influence. Naturally I sunk him with it.” He chortled whilst Twilight bore a polite smile. Same old, same old. He took his seat opposite her, a brow steadily rising.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” She replied, half sincere. It was nice to travel; she’d spotted some pearls that Spike would love. Of course, such things were pointed out to her by the locals in reverence to her alicorn-slash-princess hood, but she was still adjusting and expected as much.

“No crown?” She was taken back briefly, blinking before answering.

“I don’t usually wear it.”

“Ah.” It was all he said.

A simple retort for a simple response. His smile grew wider as she regarded him with polite eyes. She wasn’t dressed as most royals were, something she took from her baby sitter. Cadence had a nifty little crown, and so did Twilight, but neither of the two had frocks and dresses like Princess Celestia and Luna. Well, save for the special occasions.

It was at this that Prince Blueblood leant back.

“I suppose somepony thrust into royal duties wouldn’t know of proper etiquette and protocol,” he remarked. He also must have ignored her deadpanned expression. “Regardless, I’m not here to judge your appearance.”

“Is there something to be judged?” Twilight fired back, folding her arms. He immediately raised his hands, eyes wide.

“No-no no no, not at all.” He back pedalled, slipping on his slick voice.

“Really, because it sound like you’ve brought me all the way down so you could criticise me.”

“I meant that as a princess you can start to expect certain changes,” he explained with an eye roll. He pulled open a draw, his horn sparking with white magic. “Attire and appearance is an important aspect of a royal; you must look the part.” Twilight scoffed.

“As the Princess of Friendship I kind of have to look approachable.” She glared at him. “I don’t spend my days bickering amongst the wealthy bigots.” His stare turned icy, befitting those eyes.

“And nor do I, Twilight Sparkle, nor do I.” She quirked a doubtful brow for a second before several small books piled onto the table. They lost their ethereal glimmer.

“Now as for why I called you I—“ Prince Blueblood glanced down at the desk for the first time, eyes darting across the surface. “Oh…”

“You’re welcome,” Twilight replied with slight aggression, leaning further back into her chair.

“You did this?” Blueblood asked, earning a gentle nod in response.

“Yes. I tidied up a few things.” She could have made a comment about keeping up appearances, and how they extended to a clean work surface but she was better than that.

“Well, thank you.” Now that surprised her, and it showed in her startled-eyed expression. “I’m sorry, there’s been a lot that’s demanded my attention in recent days. I should have made better efforts to keep things presentable.”

“Oh.” This certainly caught her off guard. She sat back up, arms folded on her lap, wings twitching. “Well it was hardly problem. I should probably apologise for meddling.” He shook his head.

“You thought so enough to fix it, so obviously it was. Anyhow…” He used his magic to spread five of the books-- well, journals really—across the desk. They were typically slim, save for the far right which was twice as thick as the bulkiest of its siblings. It was even colour coded; six stripes of pale coloured pages bound between card covers, the bottom section being black and the thinnest. Her amethyst eyes lingered before she looked back to Blueblood.

“As a princess, you will be expected to perform certain duties, which involves travel.” The journal furthest left slid towards her, encased in a snowy glow. “Delegate meetings, diplomat conferences, royal councils, annual balls, town festivities, etc, and one thing will be common throughout it all.”

“A dress code?” she interrupted, cutting him off. He pursed his lips, nodding with his head bobbing side to side.

“Yes, but that changes depending on the event. What’s fashionable versus what is traditional are the reoccurring factors, but what is worn that year changes like the seasons.” He opened the cover with his magic, the eyes of both royals looking to the contents beneath.

“This, however, is something you cannot afford to be without at such events. I’d suggest reading through before coming to your conclusion. There are duplicate copies. All outstanding, but the last journal’s my favourite.”

Princess Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes to find herself holding the thickest of the dossiers between her fingers, but rather than a small office, she was home.

She was to host a small meeting in regards to the southern area, what the prince had eluded to being her domain. She scoffed at the notion; all of Equestria belonged to her tutor, Princess Celestia. With the diarchy being established, Princess Luna was starting to take up her royal duties. Even Twilight was given an important job or two. She still had no idea what Blueblood did and he acted as if he owned the country.

A low munching took her immediate focus. She sat in the middle of the library at the centre table, the stack of books Prince Blueblood gave her to her left, and a happily chewing drake beside her. Spike held the bag of pearls in one claw and a handful of pink iridescent orbs in the other.

“Could you please try to keep it down,” she asked with a good-natured smile and sisterly scowl, “You gonna make me not want to buy you more next time.”

“Sorry, Twi.” Spike’s garbled words brought forth a cascade of pearl fragments. After wiping his maw he sat the pearls down beside him. “So what time does Prince Snooty walk in?” Despite her look of disapprovement, Twilight didn’t bother to correct him. For the sake of the formality she suspected Blueblood would make fuss over, she had brought out her small crown.

A lovely piece of glistening peaks, each tipped with amethyst. As for the gilded hoofboots and royal mantle chest piece, well they could stay right where they belonged, in the closet until somepony can resize them to fit. She sure as hay wasn’t bringing them out for Blueblood’s sake.

“Blueblood said he was going to arrive in an hours’ time so I want to quintuple check our triple check list before we head out.” She had long been accustomed to Spike eye roll that they were a part of her own checklist. And changeling imposter plan. He held out the scroll and picked up an inked quill.

“Did we ensure that the floor had been thoroughly swept, books freshly shelved and cleaned, and tables polished?” Whilst Twilight eyed her perfectly organised collection of literature, Spike took a moment to appreciate his handsome scaled features in the reflection of the table surface.

“Check!”

“Do we have snacks-slash-hors d’oeuvres?” Glancing to the right, standing beside the kitchen entrance was a white clothed table. Upon its surface were plates of local treats mixed in with some finer recommendations Princess Celestia had put forward. A rainbow of cupcakes lined the back, several of Sugarcube Corner’s best dishes mingling amongst plates of cheese-stuffed piquillo peppers, diamond shaped mushroom-polenta, and various other tasty nibbles. Spike smiled with pride at the enriching aroma of his own handiwork.

“Check!”

“Did we—“

“Twilight don’t you think we should go wait for the prince?” Spike interrupted, automatically ticking off everything else from the list as he looked up to her. “You know by the quintuple check of the triple check list we’re set and ready.”

He was met with a small groan.

“I know but… I don’t want to wait for him.” Is this how Princess Celestia feels before her own meeting with ponies she didn’t want to be with? How daunting. “I suppose if Princess Celestia is expecting me to take up more responsibilities then it’s only inevitable that I run into a few ponies that are gonna be a pain in the flank.” She glanced down to her number one assistant, her little surrogate brother, and smiled. “Come on Spike, let’s go.”

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Ser Vincent was the first off the train, closely followed by Prince Blueblood. He bore his full attire, the lack-lustre viridian coat matching the glossless-scaled armour beneath. His mask shifted left and right, his hidden gaze searching the platform. The masks he wore were always dulled, as to prevent reflection of light giving him away whilst slinking through the undergrowth.

He spied Princess Twilight and her draconic assistant looking to him, the knight taking a moment to keep his stare lingering on the princess. She seemed… genuinely happy to see him, or so her eyes said. The smile was rather placated, and fell when Blueblood moved towards her.

“Ah, I see you do wear that crown,” were his first words to the princess as he bowed low. “It’s lovely to meet you again, Princess Twilight.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Prince Blueblood,” she said with a little curtsy. As the prince glanced to the drake she looked to see Ser Vincent had followed behind Blueblood silently. For someone his size that was disconcerting. “Welcome back Ser Vincent. I wasn’t sure if you’d be accompanying the prince today," she greeted warmly.

He tilted his head out of interest but kept that train of thought to himself. He instead spoke with a pleasant tone, “I go where I’m needed, Princess Twilight.” He inclined his head, fist on heart, before bowing. He remembered how he last left this train station. He was fairly certain that he had said something similar. It was all a murky haze the first three days bedridden with mana burnout. Upon returning to full height he caught sight of Blueblood refusing a handshake from Spike.

“I’m not going to shake hands with somedrake that just stuffed his face with snacks.” Spike didn’t hold back the irate stare, instead opting to glance to Vincent.

He extended his claw to him, completely ignoring Blueblood much to his chagrin. Ser Vincent took with a polite incline of the head. “Welcome back, Vinnie!” he chirped, visibly brightening. “Thanks for helping my friends a while back.”

Dropping the shake, Ser Vincent craned his head to face Blueblood briefly before settling on the town down the road. The Prince merely huffed before magicking a different, but equally stylish, briefcase from his gilded carriage. “It’s a pleasure to see you too, Master Spike,” Vincent said, taking a moment to take a deep breathe. His fingers twitched and phantom pains returned, but all in all, he was ready to face Ponyville once again.”

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Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash huddled close to the windows of Sugarcube Corner. They used the seats of the small booths in order to get the height advantage over the small crowed lining the pavements, hence why they didn’t join in the fruitless task of nabbing a good enough spot to see the royal walk by.

Of course when the crowd bowed low all was revealed. There Princess Twilight was escorting the regal Blueblood, flanked by four shimmering guards and a miffed looking Spike. Each unicorn guardsmen sported a tabard over their armour, each depicting a six pointed sun in the center of their chest. They marched spears in hand and short swords sheathed upon their battle skirts.

Naturally, Rarity avoided embellishing Blueblood and simply sat in a booth close to the counter with a magazine in her grasp. She was dressed well, naturally; the beauty wore a modest dress, a sapphire ensemble that cut off by the knee and remained short sleeved. It was, sadly, to be the last day that it was fashionable to wear, and as such, she’d pay her respects. Once again, she was the only one of her friends to be wearing anything, fashionable or otherwise.

“—No good, frou-frou, diamond spooned—“

“Yeesh AJ, let it go already,” Rainbow said with exasperation. Still, the farmer, wringing the brim of her hat between her hands, continued.

“—Snake biting, vermin lovin’, weed munching—“

“Oh, Applejack, was it really that bad when he said he didn’t like your food?” Fluttershy’s sweet voice was calming for most, but not for the tail-lashing apple farmer that could only glare out the window and nod.

“Come now, Applejack,” Rarity chipped in from over her magazine. “If anypony here has a right to pout then it’s me.” The farmer ignored her and continued her frustrated muttering, her peachy fur and blonde mane catching the light. Rarity, though as inclined to smear the name of Blueblood as Applejack, had agreed to be at least civil with him when she was in Canterlot. Still no apology.

“Well hey, look who came back.” Rainbow remarked with a nod of the head, her rainbow mane flicking over her ear as she tilted her head. “Dude’s still wearing the mask, huh?” Applejack came back to the world blinking and leaning back from the glass she had been fogging up with subdued rage.

“Huh?” She planted Stetson back upon her head, resting her free hand on her bare hip, above her triple apple cutie mark. “Well, shoot. Figured we’d get gold out of pea pods before he came back.” With an arched brow and piqued interest, Rarity glanced back over.

“Who’s back?”

“Ser Vincent!” Fluttershy said with a smile and twitch of the wing. Rarity tightened her grip on her magazine as the buttery pegasus looked back. “I hope he’s all better now, I wonder if he’d like to know that Mr Yig Jr. is healthy again.”

The knight in question played rear guard, his mask rotating from side to side as he scanned the crowd. Both Fluttershy and Dash noted how some of the crowd fixed him with a nervous stare, completely avoiding eye contact when he looked their way. He continued the steady walk, hands neatly behind his back and head held high.

A door behind the counter burst open, the scent of baked goods thickening in the air to evoke a light cough from Rarity. Then again, perhaps it was mist of flour rolling out like thick chalky smoke. And there, with a pink silhouette was the prized baker of the establishment: Miss Pinkamenia Diane Pie.

Emerging from the fog of cooking to the sounds of a mysterious tribal beat, set to daunting rhythm, she bore a heavily stained apron and the fur of her arms had dabbings of frosting. Two war streaks of flour marked her cheeks, her curly tail tipped with snowy powder, and in her mitten-clad hands was a plate of creamy confectionery. With a thousand yard stare, she eyed the passing knight with deep blue eyes.

“Are you here to see His Greatness pass by as well?” Rarity remarked with obvious disdain, finishing with an indignant sniff and fixing a lock of mane. She took another dainty whiff of air, pleasantly surprised by sweet scent coming from whatever Pinkie had baked. “My, what is that delightful treat?”

“Pie.” Pinkie said gruffly.

The drumbeat still rang on.

“What kind of pie?” Dash inquired from wear she peered out the window, pointed ears swivelling to face behind her.

“Banoffee.” Again, Pinkie was gruff and curt. Her stern stare lasted a whole minute before she turned to face behind her with an innocent, sweet smile.

“Okay, Pound Cake, stop playing with the pots and pans now!” she yelled with a sweet sugary voice.

Chapter Three

By the second book, or record to be more precise, Princess Twilight had a vague idea of what was going on.

The first record was of a Private Apollo, a skilled archer and talented musician. The thin record revealed few missions, mostly how the earth pony had made skilled shots and won various trophies, even pointing out that at a young age he was a future candidate for the Equestrian Games. The Prince pointed out that for what he’d be doing if chosen, it would be best to choose someone with more than two years of experience in service overall.

“Is it that important? He seems talented.” Twilight inquired moments before flipping the cover page. Her eyes were drawn up by his amused huff.

“All of them are talented, Princess Twilight.” He tidied the rose in his front pocket, maintaining an air of grace whilst doing so. “I wouldn’t stifle talent; the natural capability of a pony is not restricted by class, race, or experience – those aspects merely help, some more than others.” He looked to her with a neutral glance, though she saw his cold eyes studying her. “If he’s the one you believe is best, then by all means, choose him.”

She glanced down to the newer dossier, still in her hands but with the cover open. This time a lieutenant Burner looked back. He was cute, she gave him that, despite the mug shot styled identification photo. This one was a unicorn of scarlet and blue, rugged and a few years older. Naturally his file was a little bit thicker. But not the thickest.

Upon arriving at a familiar library, Ser Vincent silently slipped to the front. The guards were generally stone faced even whilst on the move, but as the false-stallion brushed past one of the golden unicorns he heard a sharp intake of air. Every guard knew of Ser Vincent, but nopony knew who he was, or what he actually was beneath all that clothing and armour. These guards were no different. He left the two royals to the care of the four guardsmen and stood before the door, looking back to them.

“I’ll just perform a quick sweep.” His gaze shifted between the two forward guards. “I want you two positioned at the rear of the building, watch the upper branches.” After a swift nod they marched on, splitting to move around the treehouse on both sides. “You two remaining will guard the front.”

“There’s really no need,” Princess Twilight insisted, stepping forward. When the guards didn’t stop Twilight pressed on, walking towards Ser Vincent with a shaky smile. She was met not only with his stoic masked stare but also Blueblood walking briskly to keep up.

“Princess Twilight, please, this is merely formality.” He said with an airy wave of his hand before he lowered it to gesture to Golden Oaks Library. “Shall we?” he asked with a small smile beneath calm diamond blue eyes. He was now holding his expensive briefcase with his other hand.

“I…suppose its fine,” she replied with slight apprehension. “Forgive me, but I’ve only really seen Celestia have guards surround her, kind of weird being the one surrounded.” She stepped forward, her smile smaller but still warm.

“I suspected as much.” He released a terse sniff. That earned an arched brow and a skewed glance from Vincent. “Have you really not been conferring with my aunt about what to expect?”

“She has helped but this is… not something she was actually aware of until late.” She replied, eyeing Vincent with uncertainty. “I’ve been talking with her since you know.”

His Majesty sighed as they walked past the knight, stopping by the door. He rubbed his temple before opting to comb his mane with a finger. “I’m sure you have, but this is something you don’t need her advice with, Princess Twilight.”

She eyed him with scepticism, folding her arms under her bust but maintaining a polite, kind look. Really? Was he really suggesting not to talk to her old mentor about something like this? What next, telling academic to abandon peer review methods? “Consider this where I’m the faucet of wisdom.”

“You know, you can call me Twilight, the other princesses do, including Cadence.” He rolled his eyes in response, an act that made Ser Vincent move to rub the bridge of his nose. He stopped himself before touching his mask, thankfully.

“That’s fine for them, Princess Twilight.” The prince nodded towards the door but never took his eyes off her. “So if we can, shall we start this meeting?” Twilight glanced to Ser Vincent, more so to redirect the small frown from its source, and found him staring out to the curious crowd.

One merely had to look for long enough and those that recall the knight without his mask were painstakingly obvious. Other gawked and peered at the two royals whereas they would whisper and point just past her. At the knight. He was once again unreadable behind that mask, heck, she was certain he was catching her in the corner of his eye but paid her no heed. If he was scowling with righteous rage or maintaining a statuesque stoicism she doubted she’d ever know looking to his second face.

“…You’re right, we should probably address the issue before anything else.” She turned to look to Spike, who was already holding the door open for them. He inclined his head, bowing low and grandly.

“Welcome to Golden Oaks Library.” His announcement was in reverence and it brought a slight grin to royal bachelor’s maw. “There are snacks and nibbles beyond the centre table, Prince Blueblood.” He lost his newly founded optimism for the drake.

“Servants refer to the royals as ‘Your Grace, Majesty, or Lordship. Those closer refer to me as Prince Blueblood.” It was at this that Twilight stepped forward, the fiery glare she bore born from a protective elder sibling. She entered and confronted the prince head on.

“Spike is my personal assistant. He is not my butler.” In response to the edge in her words the prince paused, eyes though widening seeming coolly indifferent. He regarded Spike with an over-the-nose stare, the drake firing back a defiant glare of his own, before lowering his muzzle and conceding a nod.

“Granted then, I’ll let it slide. He is not your servant,” he said stepping further in and taking a seat at the table, “But he will still address me as such.” Peering in, Vincent saw Princess Twilight burning a glare into the back of His Majesty’s head. He reached for one of the many stuffed, square pockets along his belt.

‘I’d rather not face down an alicorn, especially a prodigy of magic. As last stands go at least I’ll be remembered.’ When she snapped her attention to him he offered a silent and weary shake of the head in the form of an apology. ‘For dying for another stallion’s pride… Fates I hope they rewrite my tragic demise altogether.’

“Oh, and Ser Vincent?” His attention switched to His Majesty, Twilight’s ears twitching as she turned to look back as well. The Prince didn’t fully look over his shoulder as he spoke, instead opting to open his briefcase. “You have my permission to take time for yourself. It should only be an hour and half or so.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ser Vincent’s reply didn’t earn His Grace’s attention. Instead, Prince Blueblood reclined further into his seat, turning to overlook him and regard the princess with an oddly smug smirk. She in turn rubbed the back of her head before walking to meet him at the table.

“Fine.” Was all she said before she took her seat opposite the prince, a thought creasing her brow. “Shall we begin?” Ser Vincent easily found her reply strange but without context he knew he’d be in the dark about that.

Ser Vincent turned away as the door closed on him. He stood close to the door, his mask moving as he scanned the slowly dissipating crowd. The regular guards were a few paces ahead of him. They would serve as a basic front-line defence, ensuring that anypony wouldn't be disturbing the royals as they worked. Vincent only had to intervene if it was anything too much for them to handle. In most cases, guards had their stations to attend to and Vincent followed the Prince. He was usually in the same room but the Prince had asked to give him privacy as he talked to Princess Twilight on some matters. He didn’t like, nor did he dislike the addition of two more guards. Even at somepony else’s villa there were only two other guards on hand. Not that they were needed with him there.

“So hey, don’t I recognise you two?” The familiar raspy voice made his hand curl, a chill running through his spine. It was silly really. He shouldn’t be so shaken. He made to move around the side of the library, his body twisting but his mask locked between the back of the front guards’ helmets.

“You two please remain vigilant here. I’m going to see who’s pestering our rear guards. Understood?” His voice was polite and warm, his default natural tone really.

“Aye, Ser Knight,” came the simultaneous reply of both guardsmen. With that the knight migrated to the back of the library.

“Yeah, those guys didn’t talk either.” As soon as he was close enough, the lounging form of a hovering pegasus floated lazily into view. She was level with the lowest branch, likely why she was beyond the reach of the tree’s green crown. Her wings gently beat as she drifted upside down, her rainbow mane and tail hanging limply as she stared at the rear guards with a bored expression. “Kinda killed the conversation, you know?”

The silent guards stood proud as the undeterred sentinels they were. Statues of fine marble brought from Canterlot itself, clad with golden boots and armour, bearing their weapons vigilantly, but most of all, wearing Princess Celestia’s mark with pride. A curious cyan mare was not worthy of distraction.

Even if she did groan.

“Miss Dash?” His voice alarmed the mare, her form shaking as she self-righted to find him approaching her. A pleasantly surprised smile reached her amethyst eyes.

“Hey, Vinnie! Back so soon?” Before speaking up to the mare, Vincent caught the flicker in the ears of the guards. Could have been reflex but the fact that they didn’t move to face forward again revealed otherwise. How unprofessional.

“Well, we do as the job instructs, right?” He offered a friendly voice despite his reservations. He’s not here for chit-chat, he’s here to kindly tell her to stop bothering the guards. “And it’s Ser Vincent.” She arched and brow and raised her hands as she drifted towards him.

“Okay, Ser Vincent, I get it, you’re on the clock.” She touched down with a clop and her wings closed behind her back. She shifted her weight to one side, resting her hand above her cutie mark on the other hip. “I’m guessing you can tell me when Twi’s gonna be done.”

“His Majesty informed me that it shouldn’t take too long.” His statement came with him holding his gloved hands behind his back, his coat opening up a little as he stood broad chested and tall. He did so out of natural habit; he was being open yet stating he didn’t have much else to say through body language. It helped make up for the blank stare courtesy of the mask.

“And how longs that?” She folded her arms under her small bust and began tapping the toe of her hoof against the stone floor. She then thumbed over her shoulder. “It’s just ‘cause me and the girls are gonna go on a picnic so we’re waiting on Twilight.”

“I suppose it will feel as long as an hour and a half does to you, Miss Dash.”

She groaned louder, wings rustling as her tail whipped. She then scrunched her muzzle as she took on a contemplative look, her eyes eventually falling onto him. She regarded him with a grin. He met her with a tilted stare. “Say, you never did get around to telling me any awesome stories.”

He still kept his head askew, a face of confusion hidden behind the mask. When, exactly, did he agree to that? He recalled that she had asked that of him during his previous time in Ponyville. Or rather she had insinuated it was going to happen. ‘Let’s nip this one in the bud.’ Whatever next? Was she going to ask him to speak without the mask? He had a job to do and he was going to do it without scaring somepony else.

“And I’m likely not to, I’m afraid,” he commented with disheartened deception, his mask leveling as he shook his head. “I’m on duty so I’m afraid there’s no time for pleasantries.” He gestured past her, his tone taking on a polite sincerity. “So I’m afraid I need to ask you to vacate the premise if you have no further business, Miss Dash. I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect.” She scoffed but smirked.

“Dude, I get it. Blueblood’s watching his back because he’s got Rarity and AJ miffed.” Miss Applejack harboured a grudge against the Prince? That was new, and more of a reason to stand guard. He stepped forward, closing the distance between the two but keeping her at arm’s length. She wilted in form but still stood her ground.

“They’re not threats are they?” His tone was cold like an overhanging icicle as he peered down to the shoulder high mare. Immediately she burst out laughing, clutching her gut as she chuckled. He glanced to the other guards, both of which were looking past her but had their ears still locked onto their conversation. Again, how unprofessional.

“S-sure, Applejack’s just waiting to apple pie the guy and Rarity’s just waiting throw a hissy fit.” She sniffed between huffs of amused breathes, an amused smile on her maw. “AJ’s not gonna risk being taken off the farm and Rarity, well, she made it pret-ty clear she wanted nothing to do with the guy.”

‘Makes sense. Miss Apple Bloom made it clear that her sister and her brother pulled the most weights on their farm. So losing a good worker could be detrimental.’ He nodded his head in absent thought, glancing towards the curious passers-by across the street. Miss Rarity seemed to have made peace with His Majesty, but it’s just an uneasy truce. Same thing, just with a few more cracks in the works.’

“So about those stories, do you guys take breaks or…”

“No, I don’t get breaks—“

“Liar!” A sugary voice startled the knight, especially since it came from above. Miss Dash, the guards, and himself looked up to find Miss Pinkie Pie sitting in the branches. Her legs swung out, her smile beaming down as her eyes narrowed playfully. “Somepony’s pants are on fire~” she sung, her tail swinging side to side as she looked up through the canopy with a thoughtful expression.

“Which is a weird thing to say since ponies don’t normally wear pants, but maybe it’s because they catch fire that we don’t wear any.” Whilst Dash smiled and shook her head, Ser Vincent peered up and regarded her silently. He heard the guards rustling beside him. A stunned quiet soon thickened the atmosphere as Vincent slowly lowered his gaze.

‘They missed this?’

“Miss Pie… get down.” His voice was soft but absolute.

“Hey!” She pushed herself off the branch and landed before him, springing back up to come uncomfortably close the knight. “What did I say about that? Hmmmm?” She emphasised her offended nature by tilting her head to the side in order to glare him down with one wide eye. “Hmmmmm?!”

He chose not to believe that the curl of her mane also prodded him between the eyes of the mask. Instead, swiftly but gently, he clamped his hands on her upper arms. The act didn’t deter her but her resistance in standing her ground was for nought when she was slid back with little effort.

“…Pinkie Pie,” he began as he released her, his voice lukewarm, “It would be best not to linger too close, the guards might mistake you for trying to break into the meeting.” Mechanically, Ser Vincent looked over his shoulder and looked to the guard with the ear turned to his little talk.

‘I’ll best have a few quiet words about his awareness.’

“I know that Prince Blueblood just said that you can take a break,” Pinkie said whilst patting his shoulder. He looked back to her, lowering his head as a dog looks down to a pup. She smiled innocently. “So I was thinking we could go to Sugarcube corner and you can tell stories, then I can bring food out to everypony, and then we come back here, and we get to take Twilight on a picnic and you get to take the Prince home! Win Win!”

Eating with others? That meant removing his mask. Eating with strangers in a town where some shy away for knowing what lies beneath the mask, whilst leaving the Prince alone? Was he to abandon his duties to simply for R&R? He was recovering and a simple job like this was basically a pre-warm-up warm-up. Sure, his legs did ache and his left hand still stung with every micro-movement; a bit more rest would be nice. He also had back up.

‘Then again… this is one of the few times that regular guards would be enough. Princess Twilight can fend for herself and others.’

He shook those thoughts out of his head before looking down to the hopefully smiling Miss Pie—Pinkie Pie… he meant Pinkie Pie.

“I’m sorry, I’m on duty.” He stepped to the side and glanced between both of them before his vacant stare looked towards where he gestured out and away from the library. “For the time being these premises are strictly off-limits for civilians. I’m afraid I need to ask you to leave.” With wilted ears and less poof to her mane, Miss Pie pursed her lips and nodded. Her sad blue eyes looked to Dash who offered a shrug.

“Fine.” Miss Dash frowned as she moved to pull Pinkie along by the hand. “If you do wanna take a break, you can find us at Sugarcube corner.” The fuchsia mare turned to look to the cyan pegasus as she took to the air, hand still gripped.

“But Dashie, he won’t know where it is!” Pinkie’s comment earned a pink eye roll moments before Rainbow shot the knight a look.

“I don’t think he minds.”

Ser Vincent remained quiet as he watched the two leave, half out of protocol to ensure they didn’t make any attempts to return as he back was turned. He remembered that he sent the guards ahead of him to secure the back, and that they overlooked this mishap was troubling. As he spun around and migrated towards the guard that still had an ear pointed to him-- instead of using it to survey the surroundings-- he could still hear Miss Pie shouting.

“It’s near the town hall, Vinnie! Third street from to the left and then a right when you find Fridges and Pianos! Okay Dash, take us away! Wheee!”

“PINKIE!”

“Maybe if I bring something, that might change his mind!”

‘If that shop name is literal then what a bizarre choice of goods to sell.’ Silently, he crept upon the gold clad guard, his hidden gaze locked onto the flickering ear. He glanced to the guard partner, finding him focusing ahead and upon the surrounding area, rather than Vincent and his little talk.

As he slipped his mask’s muzzle between the spear and the guards head, his gloved hand fell hard upon the shoulder. He felt the guard shudder and freeze, as if he had fallen victim to paralytic poison. Ser Vincent wasn’t cruel, but the guard was supposed to have swept the area before taking his position here. He’d need a little… reminder.

He spoke with warm words into the guard’s ear.

“Excuse me, but my curiosity has the best of me.” The guard, stoic in face but fearful in the eye, looked to his side and found Vincent’s mask mere inches from the corner of his sight. “I’m having difficulty in processing just how a Canterlot royal guard manages to miss a pink earthpony in a tree.” The knight gave the guard a squeeze, hardly felt through the armour he was sure. “Care to explain?”

He dropped his grip and moved ahead to stand before the guard, moving to reachable distance with the sun on his back. It highlighted the quick-fix patch on his shoulder, the shadow of the knight reaching waist high on the guard.

“Ser, I cannot. She was not there when I walked by.” His voice was strong, rich, but monotone as he avoided eye contact with the masked knight. “My apologies.”

“It’s not my record you tarnish,” Vincent replied with a voice like course rock, folding his arms and leaning in. “But Blueblood’s life you might risk.” He kept the stance, akin to how a vulture peers down upon prey drawing its last breathe. Finally, after a solid minute, the guard met him in the eye. Then, with a voice like a passing winter breeze, he spoke. “Please act your best. I won’t mention it but… if something had gone wrong you’d answer to command, Princess Celestia, and then…”

Vincent stepped forward, bringing his muzzle merely centimetres from the guards. With the shadow of the mask thickening under the hood, the bright sun behind it, it made what glimmer of sharp malachite all the dangerous.

“…Me.” That was all he said as he stepped back, quickly averting his gaze. Ser Vincent hoped he wasn’t too harsh, but the stallion should know what guard duty meant, and the degree of professionalism and performance to be expected. He’d await the same thing if he missed Miss Pie in the tree. He saw the muscle of the unicorn’s neck move as he silently gulped before offering a stern nod in response.

“Th-thank you, ser. I will be on my best from here on out.”

“Take it to heart but don’t take it personally,” Ser Vincent responded coolly with an exaggerated bow of the head. “I’m sure it may have been a mistake, but as guards we shouldn’t make the easy ones. I trust you can manage not letting ponies through the back?” He glanced between both guards, earning a curt nods.

“Excellent… then I’m off.” Ser Vincent then clapped his hands together and turned on his heel. Both guards blinked, glancing to one and other before the second guard called out.

“Ser Knight? What do you mean?”

“There’s no way you missed Miss Pie, sorry, Pinkie Pie announcing that she was coming back. If I’m not here then she will quickly leave you alone and it will make your work easier. Remain alert.” They heard him sigh, his steps slowing as if pensive. “She’s the type to follow through on promises.”

“And what do we tell the Prince?” The first called out, making the knight stop in his tracks. They saw him quickly scan his surroundings, his mask glancing to the more open areas to the right rather than the urban parts of town. The wind passed by, stroking that short tail and flicking his coat as he looked to the sky. With a slowly clenching fist, Ser Vincent gazed back over his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be too long to warrant worry nor for you to have to tell him in the first place.” He glanced down, his blank face pausing before he looked forward and set off.

“But just in case, inform him that I’m off to find a reason to visit this strange town.”

Chapter Four

She held the final dossier in her hands, a finger resting beneath the cover.

It was the thickest, and given the contents of those before, there would be more than a simple profile. As she progressed through, she found that summarised reports of any tasks these guards had been given made up the bulk of a dossier. One had a stallion who had helped with a couple of evacuations when time was short, another had a mare that froze an entire lake. She found that coloured pages referred to directions across Equestria, North being an icy blue for example.

She glanced up to Blueblood and found him reclining with an inquisitive look to his cool eyes, and his third crystal glass of fine wine being tasted. To be fair, she hadn’t touched her first due to her studying each profile.

Amethyst eyes glanced down and she flipped the cover.

The smiling face of Ser Vincent stared back. Inside the library she held the dossier open for a second time in front of Prince Blueblood, and was just as surprised by the smile as she always had been whenever she glanced at this copy.

It wasn’t a cocky grin beneath those bright eyes, warm like grass beneath the summer sun. He generally looked to have his strong features smoothed over, intimidation foiled by the sparkle to his bloody smile. For whatever reason, the photographer of this mug shot managed not only to capture the merry mirth to that genuine smirk, but also the slit of crimson on his lip. Ser Vincent didn’t care, however, if anything he looked to be cooling off from laughing.

Compared to the older version with a stoic glare, this Vincent was certainly easier on the nerves.

She read the profile. A master offensive alchemist with a performance enhancing ability, five and a half dedicated years of service to the Solaris Knights, two of which were abroad in two different continents. Officially an unarmed and pole-arm specialist as of two years ago, well, she certainly saw that aspect ten days ago. There was a reference from Prince Blueblood slipped in underneath the basic description, just before the numerous coloured pages began.

“I take you have read the reports of each of these fine stallions and mares?”

She glanced up to the stallion, who had been sorting through numerous papers, eyeing them greatly. She had spotted the contents of a few: trade agreements and land ownership disputes. “I’ve looked through, yes, and they’re all amazing, but I’m curious, can you name any beside Vincent?”

Her inquiry drew his gaze, and as one would speak over the top of their morning newspaper, he replied coolly. “No.”

“Why?” she asked, closing the dossier and placing on the table before her, mindful of her bitten cupcake. She frowned as he glanced back to his…work, she guessed.

“These were recommended service-stallions that fit the parameters of working in Southern Equestria. The Captain of the guard’s finest pickings.” He lowered a page with his magic, his hand reaching for a tea cup as a different page fluttered out of his briefcase before him. The snowy magic glistened as he took a regal sip. “I take his word to heart and wouldn’t offer less than the best for a Princess.”

“How do you know? You’ve been quiet whenever I haven’t inquired about something in regards to the regulations behind this.” She sat back and drank some peach juice, poured into a cup. Her eyes fell onto a few papers she had already signed. “You’ve just been sitting there reading—actually, what have you been doing?”

Without looking away, and only lowering his cup down to the table, he replied. “Seeing where I can free up either funding or resources for what I have planned.” He shook his head and filled that paper away, bringing forth another in its place. Her scowl deepened as his scrutiny of the pages intensified. “Which reminds me, how would the Apple family feel about a private buyer taking a portion of their crops?”

“That depends…” Twilight stared, ears standing tall and words sharp, “Who is it and how much land are they taking off them? Applejack isn’t one to do exclusives.”

“Me,” he began with hand on heart, “and for a small guard barracks.” His face was neutral before her owlish blinks, his indifference barely faltering as her ears flickered.

“I… guess she’d be okay with it.” This was certainly unexpected. She half expected him to demand half the orchard for his own devices, the other half being that he was going to buy the farm in order to replace it with a mansion. His fifth villa built right at the birthing place of Ponyville.

“Of course this is all hypothetical,” he continued, glaring to the page before him, “There’s a new orphanage in Baltimare that I want to add teaching facilities to, so as you can imagine that’s taking priority. I’m looking to pool resources from the richer nobles without doing charities—they only end up offering time in their private resorts anyhow.” He shook his head with distain. “Should I ask for money only, it would only serve to dissuade the wolves of Canterlot and force nobles to pay the lowest amount to appear charitable. Nothing is free after all, including what is given from the charitable.”

His ears picked up, and he glanced at the startled mare, who stared at him as if he had grown two heads.

“Forgive my mutterings, Princess. You can tell the Element of Honesty that she will be rewarded for her efforts, but I’d prefer we don’t officially talk about it until the matters at hand are dealt with.”

“S-sure.” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t a pompous—

“But she must send just her apples, not her cooking. Our troops are properly armed and there’s little need for overkill.”

Never mind.

“Back to more important matters,” she segued with exasperation, “Why are you trying to offload Vincent. Isn’t he your best knight?” There was a genuine interest in this topic. Ser Vincent was easily the best candidate for his job; the human had years of experience that others simply did not have, a blend of situational assessment that spanned resource ingenuity, combat flexibility, threat apprehension, and cultural understanding formulated from years of moving around. He was a concoction of traits that made him a mobile powerhouse, a fortress or a hunter.

So why would Blueblood no longer want his services?

“He isn’t my best knight, he is the best knight.” Blueblood’s reply was calm with the emphasise coming out sharp. “That’s his problem.” A mute tilt of the head accompanied Princess Twilight’s curious eyes. He continued with a weary tone, his voice trailing into reminiscent whisper, “He’s not yet the greatest.”

Before Twilight could string out the first word of her irked and confused mind he leant forward after having lain the papers upon the table.

“Have you ever met Henry Costello?” He inquired bluntly.

“Not for a long time,” she replied with a shake of the head.

“A bizarre stallion, or man; a creature that lurks in kitchens with a good book in one hand and a sailor’s tongue bound by polite company. Say what you will, he definitely wears the roguish label like a crown. I don’t think he ever got over being ‘misplaced’, he’s only eighteen carat amongst us twenty-four if you get my meaning. Gold hearted, for sure, and wise.”

Twilight saw him glance to the dossier before her. “He said something to me when I was young: Some are born great, others achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” Blueblood shifted his head, as if to let his right eye get a better view of her. “Easily, I recognised myself as the first, I know which Vincent is too. His is what worries me, Princess Twilight.”

For the first time in Ser Vincent’s career, he stood in an exact spot of great significance that he’ return to. He wasn’t near it, he wasn’t walking past it, and he didn’t glance to the sight he’d see in the right position, nor did hear the same sounds from where he first heard them.

His wall had sights of beautiful red forests, that all could see if they travelled, but he had a favourite memory of looking down from mountain cave entrance as the wyvern flew. He had view of the mountains from atop an abandoned ruin, wherein the rocky landscape scape lined up for an actual face, ripe with a luscious green beard of a jungle. They were warming.

This was chilling.

It was before town hall where he stood. He’d waded past the wary ponies, strolled by the pedestrians, and came to a halt just off the curb. Exactly where the diamond dogs had seen him without his mask for a second time. He saw their faces, their bruised and beaten faces, wrapped in his bandages and quivering at his sight. He felt his features contort under the mask, a grimace as he lowered his gaze down to the floor.

It was not the first time that he’d retrieved a criminal of circumstance and he tried to minimise the damage. After all, no good pony wanted to be a crook and neither did they wish to cause harm. Still, he had to stop them, and it was good to be able to help those he could. Putting the dogs in a safer environment was a good cause of action, something he did outside the mission. When Ser Vincent wore this mask and they saw him as a pony they… had an odd look of acceptance to what was going to happen. They knew of jails, they knew of dungeons.

They forgot when the mask came off.

He’d seen enough of the looks they gave him when he first started out in order to become numbed to it. Shock, anger, fear, terror, rage, caution, etc. etc. In the end he was simply exasperated and accepted that these ponies weren’t exactly keen when they saw him exposed no matter his intentions. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t hurt, but it was more that he felt he had betrayed them in some way than an emotional ache of sorts. Maybe one bare faced lie was all it took to make him flinch after all. With his attire and mask, he had no real reason to mope about that now, did he?

He was nearly as good as new; a patched shoulder covered the bite marks and made for a cleaner coat, gloves of fresh earthly-tones flexed, and his mask was in fairly good condition. He probably should thank Miss Rarity—

Wide-eye horror strikes her features, the shriek of a damned banshee erupts. Alarm, for her and the ogres. Not safe. Get up.

With another masked wince he turned to leave. Mana burnout was a rare occurrence but that meant he remembered the advice for recovery all too easily. Work out the stiffness and for the tightness in his knees and thighs a good walk did the trick.

‘I am on break, after all.’ The very notion was both absurd and faint-smile inducing.

Of course, with the other ponies about it soon became evident that the illusion was broken. He never tried to be some mysterious stallion but merely one dressed to obscure. The goal wasn’t to seem normal, but to seem like a pony in general. So the few fretful glances that past him were of some concern.

He passed a flower shop where one of the three mares arranging flowers squeaked and fled inside. He pretended to not see the mother steer her child away when they passed one and other, but with his gaze locked onto the other side of the street, he spotted two earth ponies that peering over his way. There was no threatening mannerisms to their body so he overlooked them.

‘Let’s… try somewhere less crowded.’ He unleashed an agitated huff, startling another pony that seemed curious.

“Terribly sorry about that,” he reflexively responded, stopping to look back. The pale blue stallion hardly seemed bothered by the act but his eyes gave way his caution.

“It’s cool, bro.”

“I-I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble, pal! H-honest.”

“Sir, please calm down it’s okay, I’m here to help.”

“O-okay, I’ll do whatever ya say… jus’ d-d-don’t hurt me or whatever.”

“Could we please not go there?”

“Where?! Here?! I’m gone, don’t worry!”

“Wait!”

When was that? The second month, wasn’t it? With that the knight carried on not really sure of where to go. It was productive to work out the rigid aches he had so this break started to seem all the more positive. So long as he kept this thought on his mind at least.

He wandered towards the outskirts, where the houses quickly diminished in number. Cobble paths gave way to dirt roads before him whilst the chocolate peak of town hall was visible with every glance behind. Always good to keep reference points in unknown towns.

His mind was drawn to his orders. He was to take a break, something he chose to do in order to bait Pinkie Pie away, then when it was over he was to return to his station. He was not informed off how long he had for a break but if he was to opt for half an hour then he’d still have twenty-five minutes left. Seems fair if he wanted to really boot his mana burnout to the curb.

Naturally, the reason for why the Prince suggested the break came to the forefront of his mind. He was supposed to find a reason to return to Ponyville. There was a charm to the large village but he could pick any town he’d been to and tell a pony what gave it character. The hushed words that passed his ears like whispering flies came from ponies that heard a rumour; gossip had festered in this town about the knight, and what he was beneath the mask. The town was not a place worth revisiting, sadly.

A five minute trek brought him along a splitting path, the left leading to the bridge he crossed with Miss Rarity on the way to the Element of Kindness. An idle thought merged as he turned away from the bridge and towards an emptier hillside.

“I wonder if that snake is in better health,” he muttered to himself, barely focussing on the trivial matter. His curiosity pulled out the end of his last visit from his memory, images and events flashing like pages of an adventure caught in a breeze.

‘Studious teal pools search the wounds, a maternal and medical calculation shining in her eyes. Ever dab of disinfectant that made him wince hurt her too, every plaster set on his face brightened her smile.’

With a shake of the head, he easily concluded that the large snake was indeed in good care. A nice thought, warm like the sun on his coated back as he ascended a tall hill. At the apex was a spindly tree, large enough to cast a shadow for one, and therefore perfect. With his back to the bark, the knight slid down to sit between the legs of the trunk, his armour and pocketed potions rustling as his mask pointed to the town of Ponyville.

“So what makes you so special?” he asked out loud, as if the town would boldly reply. At least that would make finding a reason to come back easier. As of right now little sprung to mind. It was serene, as picturesque as it had been when he first lay eyes upon it, and yet, the sight of this congregation of buildings and shops had him on edge.

There was only one exception to his draw-the-mission hobby and that was if it was a terrible on a personal level. A bad mission, professionally speaking, would involve mistakes he’d prefer to remember and learn from. This… this town glared at him with distain in every window. He walked those streets and some of its ponies simply knew the lie he hid behind.

Still, he was doing this for his own sake and wanted to have a complimentary picture to the ogre page hanging on the wall back home. Such was how things went; he drew the reason he was needed and the reason he wished to return.

…

…

Nothing. The town was too plain and without character. Well, that and the fact that the entire village was filled with ponies that gave him a wide birt-

A dull moan drawled from his side, instantly making Ser Vincent jump. The surprise became evident as he twisted to face the source, the eyes of the mask faintly glowing gold. His state of alert faded in mere seconds, the light of his magic receding as his tightly held breath escaped with a sigh.

The white antelope from before was cantering over, a heart shaped eye patch fastened between his golden horns and over his left eye. The young buck moaned again, shifting to higher pitches as it slowed in its approach.

’Well… this might be something.’ An amused chuckle escaped the knight, hearty and muffled by the mask.

The ivory beast migrated closer, lowering its head.

“Nice to see you too- ah…” The antelope lacked depth perception if he recalled, hence why he had to raise a gloved hand to stop its head colliding with his. It bounced back, landing on its haunches with a wince and a low whine. “Well, be a bit more careful then,” he lightly berated as he stroked its strong neck.

In true peace antelope fashion, the animal registered the gesture as soothing and friendly. Before Ser Vincent could object, Stan, as he recalled, decided to rest upper body across the knight’s lap. After a momentary pause in which he blankly stared at the antelope with a masked gaze, Vincent could be heard grumbling as he rested his head against the tree. His mask dinged the long horns of his resting friend as he looked to the canopy, his gloved hand idly stroking its swan like neck.

He’d done this a few times in their native forest, usually after a dangerous feat of exhausting endurance or fearsome combat. They were incredibly friendly, their insane speed faster than anything wicked that tried to harm them. With every stroke his world would slow, sleepy and lethargic but only to seem forever beautiful from his view. Looking to Ponyville he easily recognised it as tranquil from afar. Petting the content antelope was oddly relaxing, strangely therapeutic if done with his bare hands.

The thought crossed his mind. He glanced around with uncertainty, triple checking until he was sure there was no pony close enough. A few minutes would be fine, right?

‘I’m practically outside of town; save for the odd shops further along the road, there’s nothing here. A few pegasi clearing the sky above, from what little is seen through the canopy. A few foals and their parents closer to town, families in the park area… I should be fine for a minute or so.

Everything needed to be checked, every sight was worth staring at, every sniff worth investigating. Ignoring the scent of a clean beast, nought but summer rode the breeze and nopony was close enough to see him directly. Heck, he’d likely be mistaken for moss the antelope was leaning against beneath the shade of a tree.

Carefully he pulled back the sleeve of his right arm, finding a strap that merely existed to keep his glove from sliding off. It was clamped snug on the upper end of his forearm, where the lip of his gloves overlapped the scaly armour beneath. A quick fiddle and the strap came undone, the glove following shortly after.

The wind’s cool fingers interlocked with Vincent’s pale ones. He kept his hand low so that if anypony with good enough eyesight, or a telescope, glanced over then they would not see a five fingered hand. Merely a strange stallion with a peace antelope lounging like dog does across his legs.

It was stiff to stroke against the fur, but smooth otherwise. He could feel the resistance of the fur, the point of each hair, and it was a fantastic sensation. He hardly used his bare hands outside of Canterlot, the time for privacy being a variable he refused to rely on… but moments like this were part of the reason he enjoyed being a knight.

He could travel like this. Him and his mask could go anywhere that he was needed and beyond. He’d fallen in love with so many sights that a part of him, a small childish part from his boy hood that had clung on since he was young, was ecstatic with every completed mission. He got what he wished as ponies took notice of him picking the toughest missions and handing in his reports.

He was content.

His mind drifted with every passing stroke of the fur, circling around to before Stan had arrived. And how the ponies reacted to him. Yet, whereas before flashes of fear and fright occupied his mind his train of thought had literally stopped back in Ponyville train-station.

He felt Rainbow’s fur as he shook hands with her in order to show he held no hard feeling against her. A subtle curiosity took her features but he was fine with subtle. She was sincere enough that he had no reason to doubt her like those before that offered hallow apologies. Miss Applejack had a warm smile, like the country sun rising over an orchard and shining through the tree tops. With a voice of sugary fizz, the jubilant Pinkie Pie handed him his napkin-wrapped slice of his cake, bubble gum and strawberry wafting in the breeze.

The memories were the embers of a fire, glowing with warmth at the ends of a charred mess.

It was with another stroke that he remembered the silken furred hand that avoided the wounds of his cheeks. Miss Rarity, the Element of Generosity, taking the time to try and make him feel better. He believed she was guilty, if not downright ashamed of her natural reaction. He didn’t hold it against her, it was practically textbook, and he did have a higher opinion of her after her apology.

However she did cradle his cheek. He wasn’t really fond of the gesture, or rather, wasn’t used too much skin to fur contact outside of Canterlot, and even that was rare.

He felt the crippling anxiety that pumped his heart, icy slush passing through his veins with every squeeze. Her dainty hand was like the stroke of the feather in landing but its presence was weighted, like a cart of jewels suspended by a thin glass sheet. All in the name of making him a bit happier before he left.

He absentmindedly stroked against the fur. It was cute, really, that ponies assumed he hid because he was scared in some way. Of what? Bad opinions? Mean words?

No. He didn’t need cheering up, he didn’t need a special-snowflake pep talk to get by. Ser Vincent didn’t mope over issues. He solved that problem ages ago, finding fulfilment through service, and respect through duty. He didn’t need to be happy.

He was content.

A shrill bark escaped Stan, his rapid attempts to stand forcing Ser Vincent to press himself into the tree, his mask turned to the side to avoid collision with the golden horns. The buck scuttled off him, seemingly alarmed as it eyed him warily. A soft whine left it as it back away, Vincent regarding it with a habitual tilted head. It stopped a few steps away and regarded the knight with a low hanging head.

“Is something the matter?” His inquiry was met a snort and another weak whine. With grunt the knight concluded that he may have brushed over a healing wound. “I’m sorry if I did anything to hurt you.” That earned him a snort, one he decided was in refutation give how the peace antelope also shook his head. Vincent sighed as Stan began to migrate away, head low and with a lethargic walk, so the knight with nothing better to do put his glove back on.

He raised his right hand after refitting its garb, feeling his four fingers divide into pairs to fit a pony’s glove. The thumb was snug. He gave it a few clenches and wriggled the fingers; years of practice made the imitation flawless. Looking past his hand he looked to Ponyville, and yet, after a quiet break of petting the buck he no longer felt… troubled by the town. His mind was still on the memories of leaving the train station that day.

‘Freckled cheeks blossomed as a gratuitous smile emerged, “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.” Her country cadence was strong, her words sincere.’

This town… was strange, wasn’t it? He’d be certain that he would walk those streets again and not be bothered by the stares anymore, as if they never knew at all. Of course, they did but it was going to be easier to ignore.

‘A first for when “Vincent” was thanked.’ He leant his head back, breathing that thought in and out. It was laced heavily with refreshing rural air, the cleansing scent oddly invigorating. Still, he had his job to do and he was going to do it well.

After deciding it was time to end his little break, he eased himself up to full height. A quick once over confirmed he wasn’t exposed anywhere and made his own tracks back to Ponyville. He could see the white of the antelope cantering along the green hill some distance away as Vincent descended.

Then he remembered why he was supposed to be out here in the first place.

With an exasperated sigh, the knight brought his hand down on the muzzle of his mask, his mood not improving when he realised how fruitless the act of face-palming was to one with a mask.

His hand slid from the mask and he shook his head, turning to glance back to the distant tree he took refuge under. He must have been staring longer than he thought because he was back to the dirt paths leading into town soon enough. And he was still without something for the wall, something to remember Ponyville by. Time was running short and, mercifully, he’d be back home in Canterlot soon enough, perhaps for a relaxing evening of music and potion crafting.

“Howdy, Ser Vincent!”

Shooting his stare to the front he found Miss Applejack accompanying Miss Fluttershy. The apricot furred mare bore two hand baskets and a pleasant smile, larger than the demure but equally pleased beam that the pegasus held.

“Good afternoon, Ser Vincent,” Fluttershy added with a meek wave. His mind had paused but his body played on reflex. With an exaggerated bow of the head the knight’s thoughts managed to be drawn into a single statement.

“Miss Applejack, Miss Fluttershy, always a pleasure.” His words were friendly but his mind was reserved. He decided it would be for the best to move on as quickly as he could. As politely as possible, of course. Raising his head he took measured steps to keep a steady pace.

“Thought you would be hanging around the prince.” Applejack arched a brow, her tail swaying as she cocked her head. “Somethin’ around town caught your eye?” Vincent huffed in amusement—she was nearly right. He was coming up close, but slowed to keep a respectable distance.

“Thought I might have something, but it turned out to be a dead end,” he replied with a light shrug. He caught Miss Fluttershy, a new sight given how she was completely bare this time, looking to him with great interest.

“Oh? What was it, if you don’t mind me asking?” He noted an odd shift to her stance, subtle but he noticed; her right hoof shifted to stand on the toe, her tail whipped before hanging limp, but she raised her head. Fighting some form of nervousness? Well, Miss Rarity previously confirmed she was the meekest Element of Harmony, not that it lowered his opinion of her.

“I… was on a break, thought I’d get out of town.” He admitted as he strolled past, keeping his tone warm as he looked back. “I met your pet antelope wandering the hills, Stan if I recall his name correctly.” Rather than walking off without a proper goodbye, he stopped to turn to face them, standing on the cobble road into town. He was beaten by the beaming butterscotch mare.

“He always enjoys his walks,” she said, “He’s not really fond of staying still for too long.”

“I see I found myself with a kindred spirit then.” There was a smile to his voice that nopony saw, literally. “And what of the snake that fell from your roof?” She winced but he noted how she had become more sure footed.

“He’s doing very well, that sleeping potion works wonders! Thank you so much.” She then, adorably, fiddled with her hands as the long rosy lock of mane fell over her eyes. “It also helps with Angel Bunny when he has trouble sleeping too.”

‘Guilt?’ Vincent smirked under the mask.

Applejack then interjected, her ears flicking. “Sounds like a bug is going around if your critters are suddenly finding it hard to rest, Shy. You sure he’s having a hard time sleeping?”

“… One of us is.”

“Well, I do hope for the best, and it is wonderful to hear the good news,” Vincent replied, clapping his gloves together to garner their attention. “It’s been a pleasure, but I’m afraid I have to depart. Break time’s over.”

“You know,” Applejack perked up moments before he turned back into town, “us two and the girls are gonna be having a picnic soon, like, as soon as Twi’s done with her little meeting.” She raised her hand to display a basket. “We got more than enough for one more. It ain’t exactly Apple family table dinner like I offered the other week, but it’s darn tootin’ close I promise that. Plus, Dash is still kind of hoping for a few stories, so whatcha say?”

He was quick to reply, perhaps a little too quickly.

“It’s kind of you to offer, but I’m here to escort and protect the Prince. In fact taking a break is rare in and of itself.” He once again bowed his head, stepping back and speaking in a tone akin to light disappointment. “I’m terribly sorry to have to decline the invitation.” Her smile lessened and her tail lashed. She spoke for herself in regards to what that meant.

“Darn shame but I understand. Have a good day then, Ser knight, we’ll not be too far out of town. Should you decide to stay a while you’ll find us just past the park.” He turned to Miss Fluttershy, whose ears wilted a tad.

“Bye, Ser Vincent. It was nice meeting you.” Silently he waved them off, quickly marching away as soon as they weren’t looking.

Pigs would fly, His Majesty, Prince Blueblood would order a burger, and Ser Vincent would grow a real tail long before he dared eat in public, let alone in the company of six mares. Sure, he’d take Applejack up on her offer to eat at her household if he was desperate enough, he had no qualms about that. But in the open? Without his mask and hood? Absurd. What was the alternative? Arrive but don’t eat anything? He’d broken one rule in regards to being a body guard, granted he had thinly veiled reasoning, but he wouldn’t be doing it again anytime soon.

‘Yet… neither of them seemed bothered by my presence.’ Any other ponies he could chalk down to the mask calming their nerves, but not these two. After the initial shock of seeing his face they were actually courteous, almost amiable.

He snorted beneath the mask, easily blocking out the stares of those around him as he returned to his duties.

‘If it’s not Ponyville that’ worth remembering, then it’s the ponies.’ That was his one constant, unsettling thought that accompanied him all the way back the library.

Chapter Five

“Thank you, Spike.”

Twilight took the quill offered to her from her number one assistant. The young drake smiled up to her before returning to his room. He had opted to isolate himself in his room with his comics, away from Blueblood. She signed the bottom of page, noting the large space below her signature more than the sound of Spike shutting the bedroom door.

“Right then,” Blueblood said, exchanging another page for the one she just signed, “That’s the last of it, after that, I shall return to Canterlot.”

“This is a lot of paper work.” Twilight Sparkle was never one to complain about writing, ever. She was honestly surprised that the act of putting one pon—ugh, human – somewhere else needed her signature a total number of sixty-eight times. She was practically sick of her own name by now.

Whereas Blueblood was a different story altogether.

He suspended the freshly signed sheet before him in an ivory glow, running his eyes along the written decree once again. His chiselled horn then took on another shimmering aura, a second layer of brilliant yellow. Then, below Twilight’s name, a line of sparkling gold flowed upon the page and twisted into beautiful cursive.

Twilight didn’t know one could be pretentiously grandiose with signing their name, and yet, Blueblood managed.

“Oh, and Princess Twilight Sparkle?” Blueblood ignored how he she glanced to him with a quirked brow. “I’ll be simple about this, it’s only fair to a new royal, but I require a small favour of you.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ser Vincent had returned.

He left with a blank canvas awaiting to be filled, some small spark of inspiration to strike him, an image that would draw him back to town. Alas, his thoughts were not solely on his personal hobby, his mind not soaking up the surroundings for a return. No colour struck him in the environment, urban or rural, and so, the page beneath the ogres back home would remain empty once more.

‘That’s actually rather disappointing.’ Perhaps it was harsh of him to decide the town was a bland as they came, distinguishing features surfaced quickly enough on the way back to the library; by the time he arrived he could point out several reasons as to why Ponyville looked different to its neighbouring cousins.

But not one resonated with him. Not one gave him a reason to come back. Maybe he was biased—it was hardly a good day for him in the end ten days ago. Perhaps he couldn’t remember a good reason because there wasn’t one for that mission?

So what of this?

He had stood vigilantly at the front of the library and the two gilded guards, their tabards fluttering on a passing breeze. Vincent’s false tail and the ends of his coat were more behaved. It had been this way for fifteen minutes now. With a twist of the hooded head he could spot both royals talking. Without knowing the topic he returned to his duty, his hidden gaze sharp on the surroundings, his mind returning to his previous train of thought.

Maybe he would draw about this mission? That was an idea. A very good idea. Hell, the thought of not having paired pictures was starting to burn into his mind, a caustic itch now soothing over. Flub it all, this was sheer brilliant.

He’d sketch the tree-library, encompassing the silhouette of the princess in the window. Purple, no, lavender would be the colour he’d use; flowers of such hues bloomed amidst the branches and green leaves. Of course, save for these bits of flora and Her Majesty’s fur and mane, everything else-- from the outer bark to the books inside-- would be shaded pencil lead.

He actually sighed, quietly though. As satisfying as it was to finally have this issue solved it was only minor. The ogre picture he could tack onto the wall later, a mission rather than the mission wherein he found a reason to return. He would pair something with the Golden Oaks picture, he’d have to, but he wouldn’t be cursed with thinking about what happened a short time ago anymore.

So… after a day like today, where things went right, what would he come back for?

He couldn’t afford to ponder on the subject for much longer as his sharp eyes fell upon somepony migrating towards the library. Well, sauntering; the lady was well dressed once again, a lovely royal navy dress ending at the knees, almost shimmering like a night sky. It enhanced her snowy fur’s complexion and coupled well with her regal violet mane and tail. He was on duty and so didn’t respond immediately to her elegant wave.

“Good afternoon, Ser Vincent!” She was certainly cheery as he inclined his head in polite acknowledgement. “I thought I had heard you were back in town.”

“As required, Miss Rarity.” He kept a warm voice whilst thanking the presence of the mask, and then coupled his hands behind his back. The knight then tilted his mask ever so slightly. “May I ask what business you have? It’s simply one of my responsibilities as a guard is all.”

She waved him off, “Oh it is fine, I understand.” He doubted it was fine; she moved with confidence but the way she rested her elbow in her palm, whilst using her left hand to cup her cheek, betrayed only a small ripple upon her visage of courage. “I’m simply waiting on Twilight to finish with her duties and then we’ll be heading off to join our friends for a relaxing get together.” An amiable smile appeared on her muzzle.

“I had the fortune of bumping into Miss Applejack and Miss Fluttershy a while ago” He noted her renewed interest by the way she blinked and raise her chin. He turned his mask to look the way he came upon returning, “Their invitation was sadly wasted on me, but I believe they may have already set up the picnic beyond the park.” He hoped that this might dissuade her from inviting him to tag along.

“I assume that means you briefly toured Ponyville, then?” He looked back to her as she continued, her eyes alight with a subdued sparkle.

“His Majesty’s orders.” Though friendly, Vincent’s inflection conveyed that it was not something he did willingly. “I suspect he thinks I still need to walk off my collection of bruises and scratches off from the past month, and for the most part, he’s probably right.” The sparkle left and her smile waned, her arms shifting to fold under her endowed chest. He considered the concern in her wilted features, the ears, the shoulders, the slow shift of the tail, but before he could reassure her she spoke.

“I hope that means you’re doing fine under all that,” she said eying him up and down. That was… bold of her. Normally, when referenced to beneath the attire he had no shadow of a doubt the pony thought he was a stallion. It chilled him when it shouldn’t have that she was concerned for the human beneath, and he was fully aware of how absurd the notion actually was. Still, it was more reflexive discomfort than anything else.

“It’s my first task since the other day: nice and easy guard work.” He shrugged, rolling his shoulder, an act that completely drew her attention. “But to answer your question, I am on a speedy road to recovery, thank you for asking Miss Rarity.”

A relieved smile sprouted on her lips, a quite sigh leaving her. Ser Vincent then met her eyes as she shifted her gaze back up to his, hers shimmering sapphire that searched for hidden malachite. Few ponies knew what to look for in his masked stare, Blueblood perhaps being the one who did so the most.

“Please, call me Rarity.” It was simple and ended with a delighted giggle at his expense. “As much as I adore the formality I’m afraid that it will lose its charm all too quickly.”

He had shifted his voice so she’d hear a smirk to his tone, an audio illusion given that he was fairly certain of his neutral stare beneath the mask. “I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.” She must have fallen for it given the ghost of a playful grin that appeared. Then again, it came as quick as it went so perhaps she was on to him. That would be a first.

“Well, whatever keeps you comfortable. I’m sure Fluttershy will be thrilled to hear that you’re in better health.” Ser Vincent recalled the brief exchange of pleasantries minutes ago, growing faintly curious to whether the topic would have been brought up at all.

‘More than likely.’ He concluded. He also realised that he hadn’t returned her concern for another’s well-being.

“Incidentally, are you okay with what happened?” There was genuine concern to his soft baritone, subdued but none the less present. Reflexively his shoulders sagged when she looked away quickly, pressing her folded arms further into her. Had the ogres perhaps terrified her? She was almost pummeled after all. “Rarity, it’s—“

“It was. And still is.” She said sternly, her voice chilled and ashamed. “Though I’d like to, though I want to, I won’t justify… bah, I shouldn’t even use that word—I will not excuse my reaction after you saved me, Ser Knight.” She looked back up, ears wilted and shame tainting her graceful features.

It left him stunned to say the least.

“To think, one such as I would have such a shallow reaction.” She sighed deeply, her sight falling to his patched shoulder.

“I was actually worried about how you were taking being attacked by an ogre,” he explained flatly, rubbing the back of his hood. She then blinked owlishly as he continued after straightening up. “Though you did appear fine, along with the others and Princess Twilight, I’m more concerned about any after effects. I wasn’t exactly in my best condition, and perhaps should have remained to check the rest of you.”

“Oh.” Her simple reply summarised the state of Rarity’s mind at that moment, her off-guard look lasting for a few slow swings of her tail before she cleared her throat and brought her three-digited hand the base of her neck. She beamed a sheepish smile, a warm sight. “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

A second later she bore a dazzling, confident grin. “I’ve actually been through worse, you know.”

He cocked his head; though already aware of a few exploits of the Elements of Harmony, they were reports reserved for Her Highness, Princess Celestia, which trickled down throughout the castle staff. This would be a first, from the horse’s mouth so to speak.

“I’ve heard. Numerous confrontations with a few beasts and even a few dragons if I’m not mistaken. Very impressive, highly commendable.” As a knight he had to be polite, respectful, such was their image he would uphold. Regardless of this, Vincent would likely have made some small effort to improve her mood, anyone else’s really. His father did his best to raise a decent man. In a way, maybe it was a part of his job, albeit a small part.

“Kind of you to say, Ser Vincent.” She offered an amused hum, her ivory hand reaching up to pamper her mane. The smile was still there along with a scent of calming violets. Barring the moment of concern for her welfare, he had held a neutral indifference beneath the mask throughout. This was merely pleasantries that were for once pleasant. “It’s strange, we’re not famous but we’re a household name in some parts.”

“I certainly don’t recall it being that way in Canterlot. Rubbed a few high elbows if I recall correctly, rightly so if you don’t mind me saying.”

He paused, not to avoid her intrigued expression but to turn his head in order to glance at the library. Surely enough, the meeting continued and Princess Twilight was looking as uneasy as ever. It would only be a matter of time before this all ended and he’d be escorting His Grace back to Canterlot where he’d recuperate until next time. Quickly he looked back to the well-dressed unicorn.

“I did enjoy my time but… it wound up interfering with more important aspects of my life.” A wistful look took her, a sigh leaving alongside the flicker of her ear. He cocked his head to which she nodded towards the library. “I neglected my friends, my real friends, pursuing a life in Canterlot.”

He offered a slow, mechanical nod in understanding. Not empathy but sympathy. “Missing home?” His inquiry was met with a bobbing of her head; he wasn’t wrong nor right.

“Less home, more the ponies that made it home. I imagine you must feel the same from time to time.” She continued, eyes flickering to the off-green patch that ‘mended’ his shoulder, “You must spend countless weeks away from those you hold dear, friends, family, brothers in arms and the like.” She noticed how the time before his response seemed to last longer than it should, the seconds of mute nodding as slow as he carried out the motion.

“Of course,” he replied and tilted his head the other way, “Though I suppose it depends how much one enjoys the solitude.” It was now that she was doubtful to how warm his tone was. She watched him shrug, his arms folding across his chest and stance setting firm. “I enjoy both company and some alone time with my thoughts,” he finished.

Why was it that she had a hard time believing that? She didn’t wonder about it for long.

“I don’t suppose you have given any thought to my previous offer.” She made to reach for the glaringly off colour square of material that arced over the bitten shoulder. Rarity withdrew though, her eyes then drawn to the muzzle of the mask that shifted ever so slightly to follow her furred finger. “Pardon me for that. Still, I dare say you need my expertise now more than ever, Ser knight.”

His mask swerved so that he could look down on his shoulder, a low hum escaping.

“I fail to see what is wrong with it.” It was simply a square a toughened faux-leather, perhaps a shade noticeably lighter, heavily stitched over the multiple bite marks. It had been soaked in the same formula that made his coat fire retardant, as had the thread.

“Well, no offence dear, but I’d hazard a guess that you were the one behind the stitching, no?” Her eyes glimmered playfully, his stoic masked stare fallen onto her.

His reply was wary, “Yes.”

“And, pray tell, which stitching method did you use?” she pressed.

“Um… in and out?” He winced under his facial shield at her wide eyed gawk—an ever present advantage to wearing the mask being that no-one saw how he truly felt. It quickly became a blessing when she giggled into her palm.

“I suppose between potions and crooks there is little time for learning to sew, properly anyhow.” She tsked and tutted, looking up to search for his hidden eyes. He wished she'd stop doing that. “I can tell it’s hindering you shoulder a little, trust me, I can spot faulty tailoring a mile away, and for somepony in your field a small hindrance can go a long way.”

“I doubt you have the materials needed, such as the resins I use to protect against the elements.” He reply was met with an understanding nod.

“True, but if you bring them to me then I can fix you in a jiffy, free of charge.”

“Though I decline your offer, please know your generosity is something I very thankful for.” Maybe he was stubborn, maybe he didn’t wish to be a hassle, or maybe he had better things to do than worry about such a trivial thing. Ser Vincent could tell she was going to continue, but the door to the library opened.

“Excuse me, I must return to my work.” It was bad that he’d given away this much time from his work to talk, completely unprofessional. ‘Well, time to end that.’ He gave an exaggerated bow of the head, stepping back slightly. “It was nice to see you again, Rarity, I’m glad you are doing well.”

“Likewise, Ser Vincent, likewise.”

“I’ll inform Her Majesty of your presence.”

He swiftly returned to his post as both royals exited the building. Prince Blueblood was as bold and proud as he had always been, noble in his steps out; snout raised slightly, hands locked behind his back, chest forward. Princess Sparkle was easily distinguished as humble, walking out as any other customer to her library might. Her amethyst eyes honed onto Vincent’s form, as did Blueblood’s calculating stare.

“Your Majesties,” the knight said with a fist-on-heart bow, “Does this mean the meeting has concluded? Shall we prepare to leave for the train station, milord?” Upon self-righting he was met with a stern nod from the prince. Vincent then looked to the guard to the right of the door. “Retrieve the guards at the rear of the library.” He was met with a crisp, silent salute before the gilded guard departed.

“Did you enjoy your time around Ponyville?” He was surprised that Princess Twilight asked that, but perhaps Blueblood brought it up. He saw that she looked hopeful in a way only her eyes could say.

“I found the hills beyond the park provide an excellent vantage point for the town, a beautiful sight.” His earnest reply did not have the desired effect, her smiling weakening.

“Told you.” Prince Blueblood’s remark left the knight confused, but he didn’t pry into that. The guards returned moments later.

“I mean, did you find anything interesting around town?” Twilight pressed, waving her hand out towards the village. “Anything?”

“Well… your friends would certainly qualify as interesting.” He caught himself as the princess’s brows reached for her crown. “I mean that in the best of ways, of course. They were kind enough to offer a place at your picnic, but I declined seeing as I’m on duty. And, given certain circumstances, perhaps it would be best for me not to attend.”

“What circumstances?” came her confused reply.

“I can’t exactly eat with this mask on, Your Highness.” He reached up and flicked the muzzle of his mask.

Twilight then glanced to Blueblood, eyes wide and maw slightly agape. The prince merely inspected his fingers only craning his head to offer her a disinterested stare. He offered a shrug before extending his arm past her.

“His modus operandi does entail a lot of privacy and did you honestly expect him to drop his attire because he’s hungry?” He snorted, a proud smile pointed to the knight. “For a while now, he’s been the best thing to happen the Solaris Knights, so I’ve had little reason to worry about how he actually is in the field. His record speaks for itself.”

“Thank you, Prince Blueblood.” At the end of the day, Ser Vincent was content in knowing that he was still highly respected by those that met him, including members of royalty. To hear praise from his friend, a prince renowned for his high standards and critical eye, was certainly nothing to be scoffed at. He felt himself stand taller. “Returning to Her Majesty’s personal affairs, Rarity awaits you.”

Ser Vincent turned to reveal the fashionista not too far away, maintaining a short distance close enough to be heard as she greeted and waved. Twilight waved back, a merry smile gracing her maw. Blueblood’s natural aloofness faltered as his eyes turned icy at the sight of Rarity.

Twilight called out. “I’ll be with you shortly, there’s just one last thing I need to deal with, Rare’s!”

“In that case, we will make the announcement now,” Prince Blueblood was quick to say. “Ser Vincent.” The knight stood to full attention, hands locking behind his back and stances setting shoulder’s width apart. “You are aware of my intentions for more guards in the south?”

“Aye, sir.” Vincent replied with facing to the front, past both royals. “In light of recent events you wish for more guards than local militias to respond to threats in the south.”

“Then keep that in mind when Princess Twilight informs you of your new role.” Prince Blueblood’s response momentarily confused the knight, his shoulders slumping as he tilted his head. Vincent switched his masked stare to the shoulder high princess, becoming distracted as the prince slowly moved past him.

“Ma’am?”

“You know, Ponyville has the most connected train line to the southern areas, right?” she began, a strained smile betrayed by her hands comforting one and other. “More so than Canterlot, and… I hear that you’re mostly going to be working in the south so…”

‘No… he wouldn’t…’

A chill erupted from his heart, freezing bolts shooting out and away, ice quickly forming in his veins. His arms slowly slipped from behind his back, hanging limp beside him as he simply stared back blank and silent.

“Through my understanding, you can have missions sent directly through me, and Spike’s messaging abilities, so this cuts out a lot of time. And, well, in keeping with regulations, whilst maintaining my current lifestyle, a compromise was made.” She looked up to him with a beaming smile. “Rather than having tens of guards protecting me, I can have something of equal value, being one knight as my new bodyguard!”

He barely heard her words through the blood rushing through his ears, the restrained breaths of his bordering quietened snorts and snarls. His right hand twitched and coiled, sheathed fingers writhing until a trembling fist shook in a volatile manner. This did not go unnoticed.

“Ser Vincent.” At His Lord’s words the knight snapped around to find the prince looking back with a faltering façade. A ghost of worry stained the stare of Vincent’s good friend. “You know it makes sense. Time is always of the essence, so shaving off switching trains can only be a merit.”

‘True, that much I’ll concede… you utter snake.’

Oh, he was not beyond comprehension and rational. Many times he wished to act on his emotions, and in those instances nothing good would come of it. Sure, acting out of common decency was nice, be that's why he chose to do so: it was the right thing to do. Telling the prince, his best friend, exactly how he felt right now was irrelevant to his duty to protecting those in need. And would probably raise an awkward scene for the princess. Did that mean he was incapable of becoming an infuriated storm of emotions? No. For all the control of his body that Vincent sought, rage and anger could always bubble just over the surface. Being able to understand sometimes made him even more furious. Made him feel helpless, useless even.

After all, sometimes things were simply what they were.

“You’re right.” It was hard to keep the sharp, betrayed edge out of his words, and Vincent wasn’t even sure he managed. “But pray tell, how am I to restock my supplies if they’re in Canterlot and I’m here.”

To that the Prince turned away, golden mane and tail shimmering in the light of day. “The exact same way you coped in Zebrica and Saddle Arabia… minus the property damage.” With that the Prince snapped his fingers and the four guards formed a neat square around him as he moved on.

Princess Twilight rested a hand on the knight’s elbow, an action that startled him. She looked up and spotted the faintest glimmer of gold vanish a quickly as it came.

“Hey, are you alright?” she inquired, earning a nod of the head immediately.

“Of course,” came his reply. It was stilted, a restrained calm. Her ears wilted.

“You know, I can help, just tell me what you need and I’ll see about making your transfer easier.” The pregnant pause almost killed her with the tension alone. Then he hummed and looked away, giving her time to rub down the hairs standing on the make of her neck.

“Hmmm, well, I only have one thing in mind. Right off the bat.” He tone was friendly again, his words befitting talk between good acquaintances. That’s why, given his reactions so far, it boldly pointed out how out of place and fake it was. Which is why she preferred it when he settled on a neutral, stoic voice.

He raised a finger, “First and foremost, Princess, I decide when the mask comes off.” He then brought his fist to his heart and bowed quickly. “I’m content with anything else so long as you respect that one rule.”

“Very well,” she replied, giving a small curtsy. “I look forward to your services, Ser Vincent. I hope you come to enjoy you time here in Ponyville.”

“I doubt it,” he let slip, her ears perking up, “I travel more than I stay in Canterlot, and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. I won’t stay long.”

She sighed and rubbed her temple. Twilight then regarded him with an exasperated and yet almost pleading stare. “Maybe you should actually try,” she said, watching his hand clench. “You obviously can get along with ponies, so why try to put so much distance between us?”

He tilted his head, his fingers unwinding and releasing tension.

“Because ponies try to put distance between me and them without the mask, and now that half of this town knows I’m not a stallion, I’m going to be spending days under their stares. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, I won’t be seen as anything more than pony-like, and never truly treated as a pony.” His stare fell to the ground, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t even have to do anything; I could be handing out aid and it would be reluctantly accepted. That’s why, Princess, I prefer to be like this.” He gave a vague gesture to himself. “Now if you excuse me, I have one last job to finish. After all, I have no reason to let such tripe hinder my work.”

She wanted to object but found it hard too. In the end all she could offer was a nod and a few warm words and she had no idea whether they would work.

“I’ll see you around, then. I look forward to it, Ser Vincent.”

He departed shortly after, finding the prince was waiting not far ahead. Prince Blueblood it seemed had just reached Rarity by the time he caught up, the atmosphere thick between them.

“Your Majesty,” she said, pinching her dress as she curtsied.

“Miss Rarity, a... pleasure.” The Prince sniffed as they passed, blue eyes studying her form.

“Likewise,” she replied with all the forced charm she could muster. Joy, more work for him. Well, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to do this smoothly. Before the prince could somehow cause a headache, Ser Vincent slipped past the guard and bumped his shoulder into the royal. He was not impressed.

“Your Majesty, the train shall be departing shortly.” The knight was met by an indignant glare.

“It will leave when I tell it to.”

“An impossible feat if it had already departed, Blueblood.” That stopped the prince in his tracks, not what was said but rather Vincent’s omission of the prince’s regal status. The handsome stallion paused to tidy himself up, mainly brush his tail and pat his fur, all the while avoiding eye contact.

“Very well, let’s depart with it then.” Prince Blueblood soon returned to walking ahead, leaving Vincent behind to face Rarity.

“You best attend that picnic, by now I imagine most of the food is gone,” he said to her. His mind was still abuzz with what was going on, his emotions not quite settled. The key was to feel content, he had to reach an equilibrium of all emotions. That kept him calm and as happy as one in his position could possibly be. He was still a highly respected knight, regardless of where he was stationed. Yes, tonight would definitely be a good night for undisturbed potion crafting. Relief washed over Rarity’s features, her hand resting on her heart.

“We do try to keep things civil, you understand. That stallion has too much pride,” she explained. He nodded and looked to his friend, the prince that was steadily storming off.

“Pride, arrogance, at times vanity.” Ser Vincent took in a deep breath before releasing it. “An unavoidable sickness a heart of gold contracts when born high up the social ladder in Canterlot. If it weren’t for that I doubt I’d dare call him my best friend.”

Rarity blinked in surprise, eyebrows disappearing.

“You’re close then?” Her inquiry was met with another nod. “I’m sorry, Ser Knight, but I’ve not seen anything to suggest such a thing.”

“You won’t. He’d lose a surprising amount of influence if he gave away as much as he’d like to, and many would find ways to avoid his causes if he doesn’t behave in a certain way. Not everypony in Canterlot wants what’s best for everypony else in Equestria. He has sway over any group or individual in Canterlot because of who they see him as, not as he really is. Politics is can be an ugly world to face.” He looked to her. “He confides in me as much as I confide in him, but this…”

He shook his head.

“Fates, he doesn’t half know how to push his luck. We’ve only ever helped one and other, this is something I’d never expect of him.”

“Forgive me,” Rarity chipped in over the knight’s mutterings, “What has he done exactly?” His masked stare looked to her, and malachite found sapphire.

“Let’s just say this is more of a ‘see you later’, rather than ‘goodbye’, Rarity. Good day.” With that he turned to leave.

“Then I look forward to seeing you again soon, Ser knight!” she called back, waving before turning to meet with Princess Twilight. He turned to spot the pair of ponies, very interesting ponies, conversing and looking to him.

It was then that a bitter, yet amusing thought struck him.

‘It would seem that I found my reason to return to this blasted town after all. Thanks, Blueblood, you flubbing swine.’

The two mature adults would later brood on opposite sides of the train during the ride home.

Author's Notes:

Thank you for choosing to read the second story in the Changing States of Knight series, and I hope you enjoyed it to read the third installment.

Link to the third story of the series: Big Fear, Small Curiosity

As always, like, favourite, and please comment.