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.