Ser Vincent migrated towards town hall with the entire class of school foals in tow. With the eyes of the young upon him, he put more effort in being the iconic image of a knight in an aftermath; his back was perfectly straight, making him as tall as a mountain; his head only turned to catch a questioning filly out the corner of his eye, for he was always focused on the road ahead; his steps were swift and heavy like a rolling stone.

He had moments where he failed this. The mountain of will he had was built upon the crumbling stone of his body, beaten, bruised and sapped of energy in his weakened state. He could only turn his head so far because to face the foals properly made him hiss in pain, to stop mid explanation. The knight was reduced to a steady stroll, his gait occasionally falling to a limp. He had even become numbed to the twitch from his brown mop tail that poked out the back of his coat.

He did his best to push on, escorting the children and their teacher to the town hall, what he designated as a safe place. They were in awe and it was uplifting to see positive expressions beaming up to him in contrast to what could have been devastation instead. If he had one issue it was that they were curious about his hands.

He had removed his the pony glove and the gauntlet in the brief moment he was rid of poison joke, alas, upon the return of its effects, the sleeves of his coat had melded to his wrists. For now it felt good to air both hands out, the cuts on his knuckles from where he punched the shade earlier in the morning had stopped bleeding whilst under the gauntlet.

Still, he clenched his fingers tightly as the children gawked. It was hard not to feel their scrutiny. It got to the point where he handed his gauntlet and glove to the class to share and inspect, a diversion to ease his self-consciousness.

Fortunately, he had three little helpers that kept the focus on more… comfortable topics.

“That was a totally amazing punch!” Scootaloo cheered, jumping with her wings abuzz. She led the march through the ruined street, swinging fists wildly. She turned to look up to him, blowing her purple tussle of mane out the way. “You gotta teach us how to do that!” She spun around to face Miss Cheerilee at the back, whose twitching ears had caught wind of the conversation. “Miss Cheerilee, can we get Ser Vincent in to teach us how to fight—what were they called?”

“Shades,” Ser Vincent said stiffly.

“Yeah, that!”

“Ohoho…” The earthpony smiled as she held the gauntlet in her hands, a pony finger prodding the sharp tip of the gauntlet’s finger. “Absolutely not.” There was a collective groan, mostly from the colts, which caught the teacher off guard for a moment. She rolled her eyes before passing the gauntlet off to another foal eager to spin the spinney thing on the metal wrist. “I’m sure he’d be much too busy.”

“Awww, c'mon!” Scootaloo pulled at the knight’s coat.

His immediate response was to snap his focus to where her hand gripped him, his reflexive desire not to be touched kicking in. He ignored the spike of pain across his shoulders and neck as she pleaded up to him-- withheld the urge to swipe the small palm away.

“You can take over a gym lesson! It would be so awesome!” she added.

Apple Bloom stepped in from his other side, bright eyed and tail swishing. “You could teach us about army training and stuff.”

“I’m not crawling through dirt!” Sweetie said up from behind him. Her disgust was palpable, her shrill objection mimicking her sister in his mind. Only this one was the micro version.

Apple Bloom side stepped a fallen barrel before glancing back with a confused expression. “But the other day we were practically rolling in the mud for our cutie marks. You seemed fine with that.”

“I wasn’t fine. Rarity nearly used the hose pipe to clean me last time, and it was because it was for our cutie marks that I did it in the first place.” Sweetie shuddered at the memory of cold water streams jetting out nearly drenching her.

“Hypothetically I’d do only fitness and endurance training,” Ser Vincent said, mechanically raising a hand and finger. He quickly let it fall after realising he was drawing attention to his exposed limbs. He tried to warm his voice, to be friendly as he spoke, “Nothing too severe to warrant a dust bathing.”

“Oh, good!” Sweetie chirped.

“But I wanna learn how to punch holes in the walls!”

“Me too!”

“Me three!”

Ser Vincent stopped to turn around as they reached the end of the street. Through natural habit he tilted his head as he shook it, but what was new was how his once false tail flickered as he addressed the class. “How did you lot even see that?”

“From the outside window,” they said unanimously.

He scanned the foals once more, from left to right before speaking. “I don’t believe your parents will approve of me teaching you how to destroy public property.”

“So is that a no on the gym lesson?” he was asked by rather skinny colt, trying to put on his pony glove. It was far too big for him and the forearm straps hardly helped.

“Ask your teacher. I’m only going to say that my work, my actual job comes first.” He gave Miss Cheerilee a respectful bow of the head, despite the aching pain, and continued with his voice hiding his discomfort. “I’m sure you understand what I’m saying. That I wouldn’t be able to give you consistent lessons as I’d be away most of the time.”

She waved him off. “It’s fine, we understand, right class?”

Upon hearing the collective murmur of disheartened acceptance, Ser Vincent reached behind to rub the back of his hood (or head given that he felt his hand touch it thanks to the poison joke), as if to brush away that annoying ember of guilt. It was a small voice, as if spoken from a very disappointed grandmother breezy that told him to at least try.

“Although I would be happy to attempt to make arrangements if your teacher would like to.” He offered a shrug and turned around, noting the number of ponies steadily leaving their homes. “I could assist with geography… just a thought.”

There, he felt it, beneath the pain and ache, beyond the strange effects of poison joke, there it was: a small smirk under the mask as the class cheered.

He led them into town hall, a majority of the class welcomed by worried parents. The cutie mark crusaders had charged off on their own as well. His previous estimates for town hall was that it could house a hundred, and a swift head count honed through years of standing guard gave a fairly accurate guess of forty-seven ponies hunkering down. Disheveled, frantic, scared – they needed good news.

“Ser Vincent!” Mayor Mare stepped forward with a lash of her tail. “What’s going on?”

“You are all safe. A few shades had wandered into town and, as far as I’m aware, they’ve been dealt with,” Ser Vincent said with bold conviction. They needed to hear it in his voice as standing with his arms folded, imposing as it was, was not enough. “For now, I’m ordering everypony to return home and stay there for the night.”

“I thought you said it was safe?!” a stallion interjected, rudely in Vincent’s mind despite acknowledging the appropriate nature. More and more ponies voiced their concerns and confusions to which Vincent silenced with a stiff raise of a human hand.

He wasn’t sure if it was his authority as a knight or the unusual nature of the appendage that quietened them. Given the murmurs, it may have been the latter.

“You are, so long as you follow my instructions accordingly,” he stated firmly, “Collect your family or friends, spend the next hour and a half or so ensuring your neighbours have enough food and water, and then hunker down in your homes.” He stepped aside and gestured towards the door. A few hesitant ponies stepped forward, preparing to brave the streets. “You’re all fine, this is purely a standard procedure. Chances are these shades came from the Everfree and if any remain, they are in there. If they were still in town I’m guessing somepony would have found me.” His assurance bolstered the resolve of a few.

“Pegasi are the safest from shades,” Ser Vincent added. “Although some can hover, none could possibly levitate to reach the level of clouds. If you have a cloud home, you should be safe.” He rolled his shoulder, the one with the gash. “Alternatively, if you can fly, I need you to spread the word.”

He then swung his hands behind his back. “Who here is a pegasi and is in flying condition? Raise your hand.”

Several hesitant hands rose into the air and Ser Vincent whipped his hand around and pointed to numerous members of the crowd. “You. You. You. You. You. All of you are now going to inform the rest of town to stay indoors.” Ser Vincent ignored the bewilderment as he walked towards the door he spoke to Mayor Mare in passing. “I need everypony indoors tonight. I’ll leave it to you to smooth things over and I apologise that my charm left the burden to you.”

“It's fine, Ser Vincent.”

Ser Vincent came to rest against the wall by the door. He watched Mayor Mare take charge of her town, appreciating the cold wall cooling his back. It was a shame his tail kept slamming into it. With a moment of peace he could wade through his sluggish mind and attempt to think of a solution to his magic problem. He held a hand upon the cuts on his chest. Well, given the possibilities right now, he’d rather have the feeling of cotton than blood.

“Ser Vincent!” Apple Bloom burst forth from the crowd, dragging a tall, burly stallion in hand. “Can you help us?”

“If I’m capable.”

“We need to get home to my Granny Smith!” she cried, worry in her eye.

“Eyup,” said the earthpony stallion she dragged in tow.

“I assume you’re a relative?” Vincent questioned him.

“Eyup,” he replied with a curt nod.

“He’s my big bro, Big Macintosh!” Apple Bloom chirped, releasing his hand. “But everypony calls him Big Mac.”

Ser Vincent got a good look at him. One of the few stallions on equal height to the knight in the town. A powerhouse of a farmhand by the looks of things with muscle not toned but clearly evident. Vincent, as built as he was, had shared traits with pegasi which made him more lithe compared to this pony. Very masculine: squared muzzle, defined jaw, coarse fur thinning on his fingertips, and fetlocks exposing his hooves. A ginger mane and tail, windswept, ragged and married to the red delicious fur coat, a green apple sliced in half to show its seeded core for a cutie mark. He wore a chest harness, fairly thick too. There was a lot that could be done with earth pony strength on a farm, and given the agricultural heritage of earth ponies, they made efficient use of it.

It was easy to see through his tranquil demeanour given the ear twitch, worried scowl, and the way he kept shifting a stalk of wheat from one side of his mouth the other. He held a hand out and his expression softened to a warmer, welcoming grin.

“Howdy,” Big Mac greeted with a deeper baritone, far deeper than Vincent’s.

The knight once again felt his hands twitch and curl for comfort, for sanctuary away from these ponies. It never got easier. Not in this town. Steadily his human hand reached for the stallion’s. He gave a firm hand shake, noting the fur was as coarse a Mr Macintosh’s sister, Applejack. He also spotted his pony ears shoot up, likely from how his human hand felt compared to a pony’s.

“Greetings,” Vincent replied in kind, “I must apologise before we go any further though.”

“Why?” Apple Bloom inquired.

“As I understand it, I was supposed to be assisting Mr Macintosh this morning, or so Miss Applejack told me.” Ser Vincent looked back to Big Mac, “I do hope you can forgive me. I was side tracked by a bit of poison joke infliction and three shades running about. Contractually, I’m obligated to sort little things like that out before anything else. Sorry, I hope you hold no ill will on the matter.”

Big Mac chuckled as he fondly tussled Apple Blooms mane, knocking her pink bow askew much to her protest. “Nope!”

“Wait, poison joke?” the youngest Apple sibling said as she fixed her bow. She looked up to the knight, “You got sick?”

“I still am.”

“Really? But you beat up all those monsters!” she remarked, tail wriggling.

“Only because I didn’t know what the cure was,” Ser Vincent admitted. He felt it was a blow to his pride but acknowledged it as an unreasonable, illogical one. Yes, he was good in his field but he could hardly know every potion and cure under the sun. Not yet anyhow.

“My sister knows the cure.” Apple Bloom’s abrupt, blunt statement actually made the knight stop all forms of thought.

“What?”

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Apple Bloom had informed him that her sister, and the Elements of Harmony, had a run in with the plant in the past and that they had cured themselves of its cursed influence on their bodies. So after escorting them to their farm, and after peeling Little Miss Apple Bloom from his shin after she begged him to visit for a dinner, he waited for the girls to return from their trip. He explained his situation at the station, withstood the initial giggles at his expense, and gladly walked with them to the cure. Otherwise he was none too happy about going to the spa.

Ser Vincent Costello found it to be a tad grandiose amongst the regular cottage homes of the town. Another rounded building with two spires on the roof. The walls were cream but gilded with golden swirls and the tiling for the roof flowed like fuchsia fabric, pouring over the front to smoothly border the front entrance. He could smell the aromatherapy herbs from the open windows and spot the hanging sign of a mare flowing of her glittery, flowing mane from down the road.

“So… you’ve been stuck like that all day?” Applejack asked with a small smirk.

“Yes. Made things only slightly more difficult,” Ser Vincent admitted with a hand across his torn chest. By this point, he’d opted to button his coat up, feeling the pinch of every button he pushed into the button holes. It didn’t hide the puncture in his shoulder, above Rarity’s embroidery.

“And you can feel this like skin?” Princess Twilight asked him, leaning in to gently prod the scratched tail of his viridian coat. Upon contact, she spotted the shocked whip of his mop tail. It amused Pinkie greatly, and the knight’s mechanical turn of the head in indignation brought a smirk to her lips. She offered a toothy grin and quickly removed her hand. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just a little fascinated by it.”

“As am I,” Ser Vincent said with an exaggerated nod of the head. “It will definitely make for an interesting article to publish for the Royal Alchemist Society; poison joke is such a unique plant, an oddity that’s difficult to record any form of concrete explanation for, but I believe my encounter with the last shade could reveal a bit of its inner workings.”

He found the talks with the girls to be pleasant -- a desperately needed distraction.

“And what’s that?” Princess Twilight asked him.

“And does it explain why you have cotton pouring out of you?” Rarity had asked. In the early evening sun caught her summer pink dress, the hem cutting off at her thigh and revealing more of her ivory leg than Ser Vincent had seen to date. She tried to peer into his shoulder wound and he was oddly surprised to find she had been scrutinizing her embroidery work mostly. Of course when he turned his mask to face her she backed off, her twitching ear tapping the snout of his mask and jingling a diamond earring. She still wore lilac perfume.

Before he could explain, Rainbow drifted by on a cloud bed. “It’s because the guy’s a big, mushy softy on the inside,” she said through a baby voice. For once he saw the lithe mare in her own sporting get up, making her and Rarity the only two dressed ponies in his company; a navy flying top for her small bust and short, sleek bottoms, featuring rainbow stripes on the side and completely covering her cutie mark. He supposed if he could breach the sound barrier he’d also want covering for certain assets.

Looking up to Rainbow he found her mushing her cheeks together and cooing at him. Ignoring that, and the group tittering, he found a rainbow medal hanging from her neck. Another victory for her, and one for Fluttershy who drifted not far behind him. She also had her own sporting get up, one designed by Rarity as they were away.

He put on airs of offence but it was easily seen through as him humouring her. “Why, Dash, was there ever belief that I was so stone cold to the core?” He placed a hand on his heart, an exposed human hand he realised all too late. “You wound me.”

“Your hand!” Fluttershy was quick to pounce into action, cradling his palm as if it were composed of fragile bone. She studded the scabbed knuckle as she saw freshly wet spots of crimson seeping through. He tensed at her touch, her soft feathery touch, stiffening his fingers like the last curling moments of a dying spider.

She retreated and he pocketed his hand, lowering his gaze and offering a friendly tone. “There was a short moment where I had to make do without my gloves. It’s fine.” He waved her off.

“Here we are!” Pinkie decreed, cartwheeling into view in her cheerleaders outfit. “Give me a ‘C’ for cure!” she cheered whilst shaking her pompoms.

Vincent heard a small, quiet cheer from Fluttershy behind him before he was escorted in the deceptively large building. He met the spa twins, clearly of North-Eastern origin given their accent. Their colour palettes were of powdered rose and soothing blue, for mane and tail, alternating between the two. He believed Lotus, whom he assumed was the blue furred masseuse, was the most apprehensive at first glance. Her sister was busy conversing with Rarity.

“Ah, good evening Madam Rarity!” she welcomed warmly, bowing her head upon spotting the royalty that had entered the spa. “And of course, greetings to Princess Twilight.”

“Lotus, darling!” Rarity greeted with a small smile and a deft hand settled on her heart. “Oh, you won’t believe how relieved I am that you’re okay.”

‘Well it was a fifty-fifty chance.’ Ser Vincent thought as he slipped between the Ex-Elements and made his way to the front desk Rarity now leant upon. If this was Lotus, then the pink furred twin had to be Aloe.

“I do hope today’s events haven’t been too overwhelming,” he said in a formally friendly tone. His masked gaze glanced to Aloe, the pink mare, as he observed her tidy her headband. He brought his hands behind his back, hiding them from her stare.

“N-non…” she stammered having been caught by the knight. The masseuse coughed into her three-digited hand before offering a bashful, strained smile. “We just recently heard the commotion, right Lotus?” She quickly turned to her sister to avoid the knight’s gaze.

He took note of her new shifting features; her body turned away slightly so that she could politely escape beyond the door behind them if need be, her smile was less strained but her sky-blue eyes were still wide. Though her ears perked up and tail wasn’t tucked so she was comfortable enough with her twin around that she wasn’t afraid. ‘Whatever helps.’

“Oh, yes, and we were fortunate enough to not have the monster find their way over here.” Lotus seemed much more comfortable with his presence, or at the very least hid her concern well enough. “Are you checking up on us?”

“Actually, Vinny needs a little help with something,” Dash said as she came to lean into the knight.

Vincent wasn’t sure what he was offended by more, being so informally introduced or the fact she felt chummy enough to rest against him on one hoof. He slowly craned his stoic masked glare down towards her.

She fired a defiant, cheeky grin up to the knight despite the standing-fur-on-neck feeling his hidden scowl produced. Given that she knew what was beneath the mask before, she could often catch glimpses of malachite if she looked hard enough into the shadowy eye sockets of the mask. Now? It was an almost abyss-like, soulless stare. Still imposing enough to warrant her to back off him, shifting her weight to her other hip.

“And what would that be?” Aloe asked with a tilt of the head and perk of the pony ears.

“It would seem our master alchemist had an unfortunate run in with some poison joke,” quipped Princess Twilight. He turned around to face her, shoulders intentionally drooped. It earned a giggle or two before he returned to proper posture.

“Ah, well, we shall prepare a bath,” Aloe said, turning to grab her sister by her arm. They both parted, one more eager than the other as Vincent jerked upright having been caught off guard.

‘Nopony said anything about a bath.’

He was told to wait, and rather than receive further cracks at his pride he chose to inform Rainbow about the day’s events, apologising profusely to Applejack for not being able to help with the farm as he had agreed to.

“Shucks, Ser Vinny,” she said, slugging him in his arm. Hard. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.” She flicked up her steston and gave a cute freckled smile. “It’ll be hard work catching up but we’ll manage. You can help out one of the days.”

Only momentarily curious as to whether his arms would be bruised or broken after reverting back to normal, he lowered his gaze to the floor as he leant back against a wall. “I could have better handled this.”

“Well, I think you did really well,” Fluttershy chirped with surprising conviction. Well, to him it was. “Even whilst sick you saved a lot of ponies today.”

“Speaking of which,” Rainbow added with an impatient tap of her hoof, “What happened when you found the second monster?”

“I’m surprised you girls knew the cure to poison joke whilst I didn’t,” he admitted, facing Princess Twilight and shrugging. “I have a fairly in depth library on the subject of magical herbs and their effects, but poison joke eluded me.”

Twilight nodded along. “The girls originally thought it was a curse,” she said, “I was looking for the symptoms in my books at the library. It wasn’t until after the whole fiasco that I learnt that everypony to suffer from poison joke’s magic has a unique experience.”

“My theory as to why is because poison joke searches for ways to render anything that would attack it harmless,” Vincent began, “It’s capable of searching the victim’s subconscious for something it depends on or has value in and twists it a way to make it ineffective. There have been cases of herbivores becoming unable to withstand the taste of plants or move completely.” He tapped his mask. “My hypothesis is that creatures of greater intelligence confuse this aspect of poison joke that it ends up mistaking personality traits or talents as vital aspects of what they assume is their next predator.”

“Interesting,” Twilight admitted with a hand to her chin. She turned her slowly, curling lips away from an exasperated Rainbow Dash to hide her smirk.

“May I ask what the name of the book was?” Ser Vincent asked as Dash gave a very Equine huff.

“Sure: Supernaturals: Natural Remedies and Cure-alls That Are Simply Super,” she recited from memory.

“Sounds less of an encyclopedia and more of a collection of old wives tales.” He felt ashamed of himself for overlooking such a book, especially as an alchemist. He reached up to massage the bridge of his nose, finding it thicker than usual due to being the pony mask’s snout. “My only defence is that healing remedies are not my specialty.”

Twilight shrugged with a wan grin, reminiscing about her own moments of ignorance years ago. “It’s also better suited for the cooking section if that any consolation.”

“A little.”

“Gah!” Rainbow finally cried out. She stepped in front of Ser Vincent, who crossed his arms as she approached. “Finish the story already!”

“Ser Vincent?” Aloe said from where she peeped around a door, “Your bath is ready.”

“Oh come on!”

He was lead into the back room, a grand affair lightly scented with refreshing herbs and dotted with lush ivory on the walls here and there. It was fairly humid due to the saunas on his far right opposite the five mud baths on the other side. There were separate stations for what he assumed were touch ups in the name of vanity, horn filing, hoof polishing and the like. In the centre were three wooden baths, perfect for six ponies at a time.

Throughout it all, as he took in the sights, he felt every moisture drop on his coat, between the crevices and the creases. It made the small strain his buttons felt all the more apparent as they kept his long coat closed, hiding his clawed shirt, or chest from the girls. He felt the sleek surface of the tiles beneath the sole of his boots, and the patches of water yet the dry up. It made him itchy.

“Here you go. For the knight that helped save the town!” Lotus said with a gratuitous voice, smiling as she poured seeds into the large bath.

The mere sight of the cure made his leathery coat skin writhe, although he may have become aware of a new sensation birthed by the poison joke. It did only occur when he shook the baggier aspects of his attire, the sleeves and coat tail. It was with an excited wriggle of his tail that finally set him on a straight march towards the bath.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” His mind was clouding again, his focus waning on all but one thing. One thing he was clinging onto. That bath.

Without ceremony or grace he rolled over the edge and into the bath in order to soak his entire body. The water enveloped his senses; he felt its warmth upon every inch of his attire, feeling it upon his mask and boots as if it were touching his skin; the air in his lungs pushed against his chest, the cotton wounds starting to soak and sting.

Abruptly, he felt the workings of the cure on his inner body. As if strips of his skin were slipping off like loose leather, Vincent felt the warm surge of water seep up his sleeves, as sign that he was once again separating from his guise. The very definitions of what was his skin was blurring with an every second and with a building bout of bubbly magic in his cotton gut.

He felt water on his eyelashes, his shirt soaking and clinging to his chest, and a relieved grin form as his flesh cheeks diffused from beneath the mask. Then, as his lungs burned for breath, he planted his boots to the ground, relishing in no longer feeling the wooden bottom of the bath beneath his feet.

With a gasp and a splash he breached the surface, standing on his two feet. He could feel his breath against the inside of his mask again, the chill of the air permeating through his coat. Vincent wasted no time removing his coat, his mind still focus on one thing: getting out of his clothes.

Vincent cast his coat to the side without ceremony and began to quickly unbuckle the straps holding his mask in place. That fell onto the tiled floor with a clatter, but before he could relish in herbal infused air against his coppery stubble, he fought to strip himself of the soggy shirt. In the frantic rush and with his mind clearing he simply opted to grab his collar and rip it half.

As the discarded shirt landed with a slop, Ser Vincent immediately began to scan his built form for any sign of bleeding on his slightly haired chest. Nothing. No deep gash in his shoulder and no strips of red ribbons trailing across his abs or pectorals.

‘The shade must have only harvested a portion of the poison joke’s magic, leaving me in limbo between my state prior to infection and after being nearly gutted.’ With a chuckle he brought a hand over his eyes and lifted his head, basking in the freedom of being half naked. ‘I would have likely bled to death had I remained only half cured.’ He felt his hair between his fingertips as he smooth it over. He then immediately began to fiddle with his alchemy belt after noticing his wet fake tail hang limp and dead against the back of his leg.

Then he heard a feminine giggle.

Shock and morbid fear struck him like lightning to his gut as he lowered his hand, a rock falling into the pit of his stomach passing his quickening heart. His malachite eyes fell upon the girls that were looking at his dripping form with varying smiles and quirked brows.

Princess Twilight and Pinkie seemed relieved for him, the latter jubilantly so. Fluttershy being the meekest kept her eyes elsewhere, but smiled none the less with teal eyes over blossoming cheeks. Applejack kept her grin even as she lowered her hat, but both Rarity and Rainbow stared back, the former with a hand against her cheek in appraisal, the latter guffawing.

Ser Vincent felt his blood run cold, his mind clearing once again but remaining silent as he was studied by these mares. His stone jade eyes slowly shifted to gold tint seeped in. It seemed to prompt further interest in Twilight, especially when she caught onto the glowing lines emerging around Vincent’s neck and heart.

“Heck, Vinny, ease up.” Dash chuckled as she rump-bumped a now-frozen Applejack. “I mean he isn’t ripped like Bulk is.”

‘They can see me.’ He backed into the edge of the bath and fell out. He hit the ground hard and heard Dash and Pinkie burst into fits of laughter. The hard tiled floor chilled his spine as he let their mocking giggles ring in his ears. With a low growl he rolled onto his front, eyes almost alight. Vincent ground his fist into the floor, splitting a tile as his veins glowed. He crawled over to his coat and put in on as he stood tall.

He snapped his gaze to the side when he was approached by Lotus, who immediately faltered at his gaze. He interpreted her jarring shift from concern to terror as a sign that he was wearing a harsh scowl. Her ears fell flat, tail tucking as her shrinking eyes gazed up to the burning glare of the knight. She held his mask in her hands until he swiped it from her with flinch-inducing speed.

With it in hand he stalked around the bath, not facing the still tittering girls.

“Princess Twilight, I’m heading to your library to instruct Spike to send a letter requesting support for a shade hunt.” His voice was curt, the edge of spoken command before barking orders. He had to rein in his anger, his humiliation. It was his problem, not theirs. “Then you’re all going to return home and spend tomorrow inside until I say it’s safe to leave.”

“Wait, what?” Princess Twilight asked. Ser Vincent didn’t respond and strolled on, past a giggling Pinkie.

Then, much to everypony’s surprise, she stopped. Abruptly, suddenly, wilting as a small whisper stripped her of joy. Her ears fell as she brought her hand to her mouth in a gasp, turning to face the knight who cast a harsh, burning glare back at her over his shoulder. Her shoulders slumped as he bared his teeth, exposing those sharp canines inside that vicious sneer.

He then shook his head, glancing back one final time with a much more apologetic, remorseful look. Shame softened his features and returned some traces of green to his eyes. But Pinkie was still frozen in place as he turned to migrate on, Vincent’s head now hanging low as he fixed his mask to his head.

She just heard that little whisper in her head, over and over again: I hate mares.

Author's Notes:

Pardon the slow updates, between real life and bad internet I've had terrible time updating this story. Alas, I have returned and shall be posting a final chapter soon. I appreciate everyone that has stuck with this story so far.