Ser Vincent stepped out of the forest just as the sun rose over the horizon, the rays of light kissing his freshly scorched mask. He wore both gauntlets; his forearms were embalmed with rosy crystals, less so on his right. The diamond thread embroidery on his right shoulder glowed, appearing like ghostly emerald veins upon moss green stone. Smoke drifted off his form as he brought his left fist to his muzzle a yawned. There was a faint sparkle of gold in the eyes of his mask, a dying light.

Walking further out, he looked down to the writhing remainder of another lesser shade. All that was left was the charred skull of a unicorn and its spine, flaming tendrils squirming for its lower jaw and necrotic mists of yellow and red falling from the bone. He held it by the spine before hoisting it up and then pressing both his palms against its temples. With fatigued strain and looking into its purple eyes the knight crushed the skull.

Lights of magic danced. Bone fragments turned to dust. Darkness fell, a slice of harmony was returned to the world. He’d done this another five times since he left the spa.

Jubilant features, soft like cotton candy and warm like a welcomed hug, fell hard at his admission. Shock and pain struck innocent blue eyes, Laughter ceasing before him and regret tainting his heart.

He sighed out loud and through the mask. Ser Vincent didn’t stop himself from bringing a crystallised palm to his snout, the metal squeaking as he rubbed the bridge with his sharp gauntlet fingertips. ‘I should not have said that whilst in that frame of mind.’

It was a strange scenario for the knight: never would he have ever thought he’d be upset about getting his powers back, furthermore, never would he have thought that he’d be the reason. Then again he never made the best decision when he wasn’t in control. His strength, how close he allowed others to be… his emotions…

“I wonder if the bakery is open?” he asked himself, clapping away the dust of the dead. He’d finished here and the guards were still about. He walked down the path to until he found where the sergeant of a squad of twelve guardsmen composed the typical three pony races. By this point the light of his eyes had vanished and felt further exhausted.

All were identical save for the species type of pony and the leading stallion; unlike the others he was thundercloud silver, contrasted by golden armour. All these guardsmen wore smaller, compact gauntlets similar to the knight, resulting in only the knuckles and palms sprouting spiked crystals. Vincent’s were more robust, heavily durable and with five digits instead of three. The leading sergeant held his guard helm under his arm as he spoke sternly, but admirably to the guardsmen.

“Gentlecolts, I believe we’ve done well for ourselves – six lesser shades have been put to rest.” He spun around as Vincent approached, hoof boots clanking as he gave a formal salute. Those under his orders followed suit. “Ser Vincent!”

The knight returned a fist-on-heart bow.

“I hope the hunt was as bountiful as ours, ser,” the sergeant added with a proud smile.

Vincent tilted his head and abruptly halted in his tracks. “What a horrible thing to say, sergeant.” He gazed to Ponyville but kept his concealed eyes on the off-guard stallion from behind his mask. “Bested five aggressive monsters hunting near a town full of civilians today, eight if you count the other three I destroyed in town yesterday.” He tutted and shook his head whilst patting down the still smouldering floral design on his shoulder. He’d need to pay Rarity to fix the slash in his shoulder.

“Eight?” asked one of the privates, his raised brows seen through the open faced helm.

Ser Vincent recalled the night with a slight fondness in the sense, and only sense, of one being reunited with an old friend. Having his powers back, the strength to launch these vampyric monsters into one and other, the speed and agility to hunt them down, the sight of a grey-scaled world bursting into colour as anything moved… it was wonderful to be back in working order.

“On another note, I found myself going deeper and deeper into the forest as the night went on, and they appeared further and further south, and further between encounters.” Vincent then swung his hands behind his back, inclining his head. “I appreciate your response time last night gentlecolts and I believe were are done here.”

He turned to leave but caught sight of the sergeant lost in his thoughts. With a mental eye roll he patted the sergeant on the shoulder. “It was a simple jest, sergeant. You did well.” He saw the sergeant’s ears perk up and tail lash harshly as he grinned.

“Aye ser, we all did.”

“Then I wish you all luck in your future endeavours.” With that, Ser Vincent walked off glad to no longer be exhausted by talking. He’d need to save his strength for Pinkie Pie he bet.

Through empty streets of an early morning the knight strolled, pain lingering in his chest and his limbs weary but alive. He had shed the last of the anti-magic crystal growth on his arms and sported on the gauntlets. He had a lot to think about as he migrated towards his new destination, a place he heard about but never went himself in the couple of weeks he’d been here. He only paused his thoughts to check for signs and landmarks, visual signs he been told to look out for as he journeyed along the cobblestone roads.

Then he found it…

…simply looking at the place hurt his sweet tooth.

An atypical cottage where the lower floor was smaller than the upper floor, leading to an oversized roof resembling gingerbread and skirted by thick, creamy white frosting. The sugary theme was crowned by a central tower, capped by a pink-frosted cupcake-esque roof. Chocolate-like external beams streaked across the pale, cream walls and even the windows had a strawberry tint to them. The entrance had candy-cane pillars to support the gingerbread stairway and overhead arch. He tried the front door. It was open and he slid his hand up to reach for the doorbell inside before it could ring. Most shops had them. He’d… take a quick quiet look.

The inside certainly smelled like a bakery, though scents were more of various loafs of breads as opposed to confectionary. Vincent quickly scanned the room out of bodyguard habit. Between him and the glass counter the front of the shop was incredibly spacious, a set of stair blocked off by a baby-gate were took into the corner. Only three tables for four were present and they were by the windows.

Glancing to the floor he could see hoof marks leading to the counter, polished but worn into the wood. Obviously, though ponies frequented the place, they queued and left more than they stayed. Though he’d heard a few parties were hosted here regularly.

He heard Pinkie Pie humming merrily to herself as she worked in the back, her rump and tail swaying to her own merry tune. He approached the half-filled counter, silently at first before taking a deep breath and then making his steps heard.

She stole a peek, muzzle lightly dusted with sugar powder or flour before looking back down to whatever she was doing. “Hey Vinny!”

He tilted his head, mirth putting an odd pressure on his face as she took a double take.

“Vinny!” she chimed with smile. One that slowly crumbled before him, stealing the warmth he had been feeling with it. “Oh… hey.”

He straightened up and kept his voice level – calm and lukewarm, but as softly spoken as ever. “Greetings Pinkie Pie.”

She brought out a tray of butterfly cakes, the frosting ranging from white, blue, and yellow. He watched her set them beside the éclairs, took note of the ivory apron being the only thing he’d ever seen her wear beside the cheerleader’s outfit, and berated himself for not looking her in the eye as he spoke. Not that she could tell with the mask and shadowing hood but if he was going to do this then he’d do it properly.

“I’m here to inform you that the town is safe for today, but you should keep away from the forest for a while,” he began with tensing hands and head lowering. He turned his masked gaze to the side, feeling himself clench his eyes shut as he struggled for words.

“Well, thanks,” she replied with a weak smile. “I’m glad these treats won’t go to waste, be a real shame if all this yummy food had to be thrown out 'cuz nopony was about.” She laughed awkwardly but Vincent’s responding chuckle sounded more authentic. Yet, at the same time, maybe that was why it blatantly wasn’t. It died down and silence polluted the air between them. She finished laying out the cakes and rubbed her arm. “So what happens now?”

“I’ll probably go tell the girls and the rest of the town to avoid the forest for a while.” Ser Vincent took another loud deep breath and sighed. He shook his head and tried to speak but was cut off by the deep blue eyed stare of Pinkie.

“I’m sorry I laughed at you yesterday.” Her apologetic stare was married to the meek way she fiddled with her apron. “I guess it was silly of me not realise how badly you don’t like to be seen without your clothes on.” Her once bubbly demeanour had burst and even the frizz to her mane was de-frizzing as she apologised for what was essentially a reflexing response. She shouldn’t have to apologise for his lack of control. He raised a hand to cut her off.

“You did not deserve what I said to you.” His words were blunt, his tone self-assured and warming. “I wasn’t in my best state of mind yet, lacking control of my emotions and thoughts and—“ He stopped when he realised he was making excuses, diluting his own apology, mixing in shared-responsibilities so that something else could take the blame and he’d salvage more of his pride. In the end he slumped his shoulder and pulled his hood back.

Pinkie watched as he unfastened the gauntlets and left their metallic form on the glass before he undid the straps on the back of his head. In the light of the new day she caught his features as the mask was slowly lowered; dark chocolate hair, messy and reaching his brow and in need of a good combing; his strong jaw and soft, rounded chin was shaded by the short cinnamon beard, his face sapped of energy as fatigue made rings under his eyes.

He was looking down at first, seemingly both morose and… angry. With ears lying flat she reached out to him with a kind smile. Then he looked her in the eye and she was as still as stone under his empowered malachite stare.

“I am so sorry for what I said.” She saw those features soften, cheeks sinking and pain stinging his eyes. “I don’t… It’s not like that—“ A spark of rage took hold as he clenched his jaw and looked away. With a quite huff to make his nostrils flare, he set the mask onto the county, facing him. And gave up, her heart sinking when his face did.

He was startled when she laid a hand on his and the shocked look and tense clenching made her giggle. “Hey, it’s okay, big guy. I know you didn’t mean it!” She beamed a smile up to him and it seemed to straighten him up a bit. She’d learnt to look for subtle bits of body language to gauge the mood of the knight but without his mask he was easy to read like a cook book! “I mean, I bet you were worked really hard, being sick and all.”

She then leant back and brought her pony-finger to her chin, “Though I don’t think you said you were ill, more that you couldn’t use your magic thing where you become a super-mega-knight and beat everything up—“

“Pinkie,” Vincent said with an amused brow.

“—So was it more that it was, like, default Ser Vincent versus the monsters—“ she babbled on.

“Pinkie?” Vincent pressed with sterner look.

“—Which begs the question, if Vanilla Vincent can beat two little magic monsters and one big magic monster, then can Super Vincent beat four times as many?—“

“Miss Pie,” the knight said through grit teeth and petrifying scowl.

She saw the sharp canines in his maw. Pinkie immediately clamped her maw shut with her hands, offering a sheepish smile as he returned a wry grin of his own. “Sorry, sorry.”

He huffed in amusement before speaking, though his tone was level and neutral. “And to answer your question: easily, but let’s try to keep on topic.” Then his voice and face fell sombre as he recollected his thoughts and chose what to admit. “I’m… not comfortable around... I don’t do well being so exposed around those I’m not that familiar with.”

He looked away, grimacing at the use of the ‘half-truth’ method before continuing. Distain was still on his features due to both his escape from an honest apology and from explaining his weakness. ‘Pride is fickle; you try to be humble so that you are never humbled. Because it feels awfully like indegastion.’

“It’s my own issue, for me alone, and I appreciate it if you didn’t tell a soul.” He looked back up to her with a sad smile, emerald eyes lukewarm in the shadow of the hood. “But, if I don’t get to the other girls before you do, I’d appreciate it if you told them how sorry I am if they heard. And once again I am deeply sorry.”

“D’aawww, it’s okay Vinny!” She beamed wide smile and her tail waggled with joy. Then to his concern, she offered a coy look, leaning onto the glass. Her predatory manner were emphasised by her furred digits slithering onto the metallic mask. “It’ll be completely fine with a hug though.”

He grimaced at the suggestion, visibly flinching and scrunching his face. He stole a glance at Pinkie and recoiled further. Her eyes had grown large and sparkled like shimmering lakes catching the summer light; her lip quivered like jelly in an earthquake, her pout as potent as any child denied a birthday present.

With great reluctance and with arms lifting like a rusted mechanical wine de-corker, largely due to the previous day and night of physical exertion, Ser Vincent offered a hug. He had barely finished opening his arms before he felt her crash into his side.

Of course he was mountainous in stance so she might as well have attempted to move a building support pillar. She wasn’t though, instead she was trying to feel the warmth of a ‘let’s-be-friends-again’ hug. It was difficult through the scaly armour of his and she was only shoulder high. Still! She had managed to get a little hug out of the stallion. Or the human equivalent.

Well, half of one. He was still lowering his arms.

He… wasn’t sure what to make of the scenario he was in. So few every hugged him like this. The closest thing in recent memory was one of the shades; the last pony to do so was a cocky earth pony attempting to grapple him but soon found his jaw malfunctioning; the last truly friendly hug of affection came from his mother a while back after the opera.

‘Why is it so much easier to lay my hand on those that have done wrong?’ He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her before berating himself and actually hugging the mare. Vincent decided to share in the embrace, catching the strawberry aroma and feeling her cotton candy mane tickle his cheek. He patted her shoulder as she held him tight and felt her plush fur. It felt nice.

Was it the sense of partial redemption? Having his pride almost restored? Simple friendly contact from somepony new in his life? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but quickly pondered on it for the moment.

He had spent the night with his powers restored, going from being sapped and disorientated to powerful as he hunted down dangerous shades. He had a power that made him feel unstoppable as he stormed the forest as swiftly as he did, rocketing from a weakened soldier to the true powerhouse of force that Ser Vincent was capable of being. Nothing that dared challenged him survived.

It felt good to be back to being that powerful again.

But he couldn’t say it compared to the moment Pinkie Pie looked up to him with a goofy smile. Maybe there was something to knowing just a little bit about who and what he was protecting daily.

“You smell spicy,” she said through a giggle-snort. She back out of the hug whilst scrunching her muzzle cutely, still laughing. He gave a half smile as he reached for his mask.

“It’s the coat. The odour masks my scent against most animals that don’t have the nose of a dragon. So, you know, half of what wades through the forest and is the size of a house.” He began to refit the mask, noting her wilting ears.

She kept the smile though. “So what are you gonna do now?” She tilted her head and returned to behind the counter.

Vincent dusted off whatever powder and frosting that had lingered behind the departure of Pinkie and her apron. His words were only slightly muffled by the scratched mask. “Check around town and with the girls, seek atonement, and then rest at home before noon.” He paused and rolled his free hand as he picked up a gauntlet, “Or so I hope.”

‘Hmmm, I’ll make him a nice surprise.’ she thought. She watched him refit his gauntlets before he tossed up his hood. “I’m sure they will. I mean, to everypony else you might have been a bit of a grumpy pants. But it was probably stress.”

Ding!

With a wide eyed gasp, Pinkie looked back to the kitchen. “The gingerbread ponies!” She regarded Vincent once more but found him halfway to the door.

“Take care, Pinkie Pie. You have no idea how much I appreciate your understanding and secrecy.” He sounded happy but she knew he could change his voice just as easily as she could rework the iced lettering of cake. Yet, she felt he was sincere this time.

“Hey, Vinnie!” She called, stopping him as he was stepping out the door. The overhead bell rang as he gazed back. “You should smile more,” she said with a cheeky wink before zipping into the kitchen.

Ser Vincent brought a gauntleted hand to the cheek of his mask as he tilted his head. “I was smiling during that ordeal?” With a brief further pondering, then a conceding shrug, Ser Vincent left Sugar Cube corner.

He walked further along the road, a tad merrier than normal given that the mood was much lighter than earlier in the morning. The street was full of more ponies as well, all drifting this way and that as an easy morning began to roll into full swing.

“Good morning, Ser Vincent.”

Caught off guard, the knight spun around to almost stare down the passing mare. She recoiled shrunk slightly but kept her gentle smile as she passed by.

“Do you require my assistance, Miss?” he asked kindly, soft as to seem approachable but with reserved strength so that she knew he could get the job done. Especially with himself back to working order.

“Oh, no, I’m just saying hello, silly.” She passed by and waved. “Thanks for yesterday, but I have to go. Bye-bye!”

He waved back out of automation as he processed what had happened. Other than the girls, nearly nopony greeted him. Strange. He walked on, heading home and for wine and classic opera. Along the way he was greeted and thanked by many he had personally rescued. It was the ones he had never seen before that struck him as odd.

“Good morning, Ser Knight!” He was pretty sure that stallion used to dart across the street at his passing.

“Greetings,” he replied cordially. Genuinely. “Oh, and I need to inform you to stay away from the forest.”

“Gotchya!” With that the stallion moved on, humming a pleasant tune.

“Hello, Ser Knight!”

“Here’s some free carrots, Ser Knight.”

“It’s Vincent, right? S-ser Vincent, I mean, um, ser. Um, Thanks for yesterday.”

He continued his walk and found that not everypony greeted him. However, those that didn’t either didn’t see him, smiled as they passed, or were too busy to stop. He was glancing around as he passed the park.

“Ser Vincent!” Butterscotch called from amidst her gaggle of friends near the small pond. She waved at him from her picnic and he returned the gesture.

“Pleasant morning, Miss Butterscotch.” He allowed a bit more cheer to creep into his voice than usual. Another name in this town he had to remember. He already had more pleasant acquaintances than he expected and one more certainly wouldn’t hurt.

The town seemed warmer, in a communal sense. Autumn was fast approaching. On the outskirts of town, before the road leading to his house, Ser Vincent turned to look back. Ponyville seemed to be warming to his presence and all it took was a small shade invasion whilst drained of his magical prowess. Who would have thought? A strange place for stranger folk. He had regarded the town with his head atilt before yawning loudly once again. He had the others ex-elements to check upon, and if they heard what he had said, then apologise to.

And he’d do so without feeling as if he was being watched for.

Pinkie Pie would later check on the knight at his home, finding the front door slightly open. It was late into the evening and she would peek inside to inform Vincent of her presence and that he had left the front door open.

She would also find him fast asleep by the coffee table, the faintest of curl to his lip subtly indicating a pleasant rest. A small journal was open before him, the slits of light through partly open blinds falling on both page and the metal mask on the coffee table. A small plate of peeled and sliced carrots joined them.

With a wince and a chewed lip she would set a carefully wrapped slice of banoffee pie beside the pencils and make to tip-toe back out of the room. But she would pause to notice the basic template of pony standing, jovially throwing their hands into the air. It was an empty sketch, yet to be filled in with any discernible detail or even a cutie mark.

But she had a good idea as she left, smiling as she quietly closed the door.

Author's Notes:

Again I profusely apoligse for the terrible update schedule this story had. Been busy.

Still enjoyed writing this one and I hope you you had stuck by had enjoyed it too. Please comment, like if you favourite and favourite if you like. Until next time, Ser Vincent can have some rest. See you soon.