To Break What's Brittle

by Account No Longer Active

First published 14th of November, 2016

Ser Vincent is tested by one of his greatest peeves: Sick leave.

After an explosive encounter, Ser Vincent is left confined to a wheel chair. Fortunately, Equestria's medicine has sped up his recovery, alas there is no miracle. Unable to stand for too long, the knight must face and endure the worst. Possible. Thing... Sick leave. Through a letter, however, the Knight must journey to Canterlot, accompanied by a few acquaintances in order to attend to a private matter.

At the same time, Princess Twilight learns more about what made Vincent Costello a knight in the first place.

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The Sixth story of the Changing States of Knight Series. Starting with To See Both Faces

Prologue

Author's Notes:

Behold! The sequel of Cloth Hearted, Armoured Skin. making it the sixth installment of the Changing States of Knight series! That's amazing! Even with this one having a long delay in being submitted the support has been simply mesmerising!

It starts with To See Both Faces. I cannot stress how important it is to read this in order to understand the world this is set in, but to summerise: anthro ponies are tastefully nudists unless specifically stated otherwise. No rude or explicit material will be described in this story.

I'd appreciate it that if you liked you also favourited and vice versa. It would bring further joy to see comments and critiques, to further my writing. I do hope you enjoy this story as you have enjoyed my past entries. If you are new and put off by this being the sixth installment, fret not, for these stories are relatively short.

Have a blast either way!

Ser Vincent’s body was pumped with medical anaesthetic and his magical adrenaline. It was strange, always was, to only vaguely remember the indescribable feeling. He could only ever experience it, and even then, there was differences each time. He supposed an outer body experience was close enough; he watched the ceiling tiles of the hospital zoom by as doctors and nurses pushed his rattling… trolley… bed? What was it called? He’d ask, as wide awake as he was, but in this dreamy state words thundered, echoed, went unheard, were warbled, or just never set in.

It was like viewing somepony else’s lucid dream. The detachment was immense. He neither cared for the passing phrases about immense blood loss or how another transfusion drip was needed. Did he ever get those transferred to Ponyville?

He sat up, much to the protests of the nurses and doctors. Mute as they were, the earthpony stallion in garb and blooded gloves pressed down on the knight’s chest. Ser Vincent didn’t feel it, and thanks to the magic coursing through his body he didn’t budge. Then again most had trouble making him budge. With foggy green eyes, and a habitual tilt of the head, he scanned his form.

He had been removed from his armour it seemed. Branches of gold coursed beneath his heavily bruised chest, his hip and groin exposed. The flesh around his thigh and hip looked tenderised, almost mangled as blood slowly oozed out a small wound. It shimmered unnaturally, undoubtedly thanks to his magic.

‘Wish I did have regenerative abilities. Would make my job easier.’

A nurse tried to wave for his attention but he only spared her a vapid, tilted stare before looking back to his wound. There were traces of stone around the wound, like dusty grey powder.

A fist slammed down on his abdomen, three fingers uncoiling slightly to work the syringe evidently embedded into him. Ser Vincent didn’t have a complete medical understanding of his own body – Princess Celestia had a team of doctors for him and his parents, who had learnt what they could through test and scans and… His thoughts were trailing. He didn’t think he should be injected through his muscular gut.

It didn’t seem to have any immediate effect. He felt his heart was racing, his body working against the dangers it was suffering from and yet his mind was asleep. To be half-awake, alert, yet numb… it was an experience he could never properly articulate and even his best similes were inaccurate.

A face he recognised pushed through: Blue Blood. That made him focus more. Words and labels sprung forth, shooting lines to tether themselves to features. Perked ears, half-filed horn, irate sneer, lightly-watered blue eyes, and an angry finger pointed at him.

‘I must have been injured at an inconvenient time for Blue. I should apologise.’

So Vincent did. Or at least he made the correct motions of doing so. He moved his mouth, used his vocal cords, and felt sincere. He assumed it showed on his face too. Not that he would know, after all; without his mask he was only just becoming aware of his facial expressions. Now he couldn’t feel his face due to drugs.

Blue Blood stared back, silent as he walked briskly. His cold eyes battled with rage and worry, a rarely seen sight publicly. Vincent noted how his white tuxedo was also crimson stained. He then noticed the charging horn.

“Sorry?! I’ll give you something to be sorry about!”

He had to give credit to Prince Blue Blood for being heard over the cocktail of unnatural magic and drugs flowing inside Vincent’s head. An ivory cone of mana surged around his horn, his mane shimmering like the finest honey the prince had on his toast every morning.

Prince Blue Blood then blasted his best friend in the face for his own good.

Ser Vincent stood in the dry dusty outskirts of the Macintosh Hills, North-side and with the desert sun scorching the back of his sandy coat. He’d changed from his typical forest coat for one that suited the surroundings. He still wore his hydra-esque body armour and it rattled after being struck by a stallion.

The thug in question was part of a gang tormenting Appleloosa, disrupting the bridges being built between buffalo tribe and pony settlers. He stood amongst his unconscious brethren cradling his fist as he backed off towards a large cave.

Ser Vincent took slow, methodical steps as his heart raced and magic blazed from the depths of the eyes from the mask. He flexed his gloved hands as a wolf-spider might ready its legs.

“Yer won’t get a lick from me on what’s going on ‘ere!” the stallion spat, “Nopony’s getting the rest of the boys.”

“So we’re in agreement that I’ll get to them shortly?” the knight said with a tilted head.

“What?!” the stallion barked back as he regained composure.

“Ah, pardon my ignorance. After years building a reputation in the North, West, and East, I forget how little the South knows of me.” Vincent prattled on, intentionally prolonging the moment he'd grip the stallion. It was a simple tactic for establishing how little a chance the thug had. Vincent did have to start making a name for himself in these parts after all. He'd go to jail with a story to tell.

The stallion launched himself at the knight with a wild, sloppy hook. He made it single step before Vincent's coat flared.

It was a like a flick, a swift uncoiling of muscle and power – there were python strikes that were slower. Both stopped as Vincnent's gloved hand fell back to his side. The thug froze. The air from his lungs being expelled through a wheeze and a jittery three-digited hand rest on his gut.

The knight prowled around his back as the stallion seemingly struggled for breath. With cruel ease he placed a boot gently upon the back of the stallion leg, buckling him and bringing down. Vincent wanted to scare not traumatise the stallion. He placed one hand on his shoulder before delivering a blow to his back with the other.

Immediately the thug gasped for air as Vincent got to worked fishing out something to bind the stallions wrists together, a thick spiel of diamond thread he used for patchwork jobs on his own coats. Well, before he could pay Rarity to do so. Although his blue goo capsules could be used for subjugation, the knight preferred to use them during combat.

“My name,” he growled into the thugs ear, “Is Ser Vincent. Be sure to tell your friends.”

And then, right before him, his world turned to ash and sand. Vincent stepped back, perplexed at how his environment was disintegrating, his mask crumbling from his face and dust slipping between his fingers. His world darkened as he shed his coat, literally, leaving him in naught but his pants. A blinding light erupted between the cracks of reality and he raised his exposed human hand to shield his eyes.

The light faded and he lowered his arms, his perplexed look falling to an irate glare at his surroundings. He didn't know where he was, he was half-naked, standing upon a glassy surface with mist floating around his ankles. He was beneath a night sky, many auras shifting and merging high above, streaks of green spilling into pools of phantom pink.

“Ah, greetings Ser Knight!”

He turned around to find the princess of the night, the alicorn of the moon, her Royal Highness, Princess Luna. She formed out of a shadowy ether, between constellations that seemed to follow her mane, as if they were threading into her very hair. Her long dress was a pearlescent shade of blue, exposing her shoulders and enough of her thigh for her cutie mark to be on display. A crescent moon against an inkblot sky.

Everything about her exhumed the grace of her role as the fabled dream guardian. Her small smile induced the wonder one had when seeing a friend grinning in their sleep. She wore few remnants of an armour, wrist bracers marked by a lunar symbol, a darker indigo breast piece clamped over her dress, and her hooves were gilded by glassy shoes that almost dared not disturb even the lightest of sleepers.

“Princess Luna?” He immediately fell to his knee, hand on heart.

She raised a brow a smirked. “Oh, 'tis now that you refer me by the title?” She stepped across the night-time floor, her mane and tail caught in a light breeze he couldn't feel. “Far different from our first encounter.”

He thought back to then when he first encountered her. Though perhaps, ambushed was a better term. Then the ethereal world of constellations and mist swirled and danced. He raised his head to see walls close in, a ceiling form and various appliances sprout forth said walls. It was a side-kitchen to the main one, where meals were separately cooked for the royals. With every cooker, spice rack, pantry and pan to form, Ser Vincent pieced together what was happening.

“Is this...” He trailed off upon spying another version of himself stalking his way, past a door with 'Tea Sets' engraved upon it. Vincent looked back to the princess. She regarded the scene with as much curiosity as he would upon looking back.

“I always did ponder how you found us... pardon, me.” She joined him behind the second Vincent. Lines and annotations sprouted out from various out-of-place stains and unusual sights. 'Dirty hooves leading from opened window' had a line leading to a trail of hooves that appeared from a nearby, closed window. 'Break in?' soon joined the note.

“In my defence I wasn't in the mood for being spotted by a single soul,” Luna told him as they followed the dressed Vincent. This was years ago, when Ser Vincent entertained the notion not buttoning up his long coat at all. He looked positively ridiculous.

'Opened bread bin', 'nibbled iced-bun', 'breads and cheeses upon platter', 'silver platter'. Lines and words lined the counter, establishing the scene of somepony making a late night snack.

“I...remember...” Ser Vincent winced and rubbed his exposed brow, recoiling at the contact. He looked to his hand, all five digits wriggling until tough cloth enveloped them. Then, as if embracing him for a hug, his desert sand coat covered him, fitting snugly over a scaly chest piece. His hood flew over but his mask, to his surprise, appeared in his other hand, hanging by the straps.

“Just remember the scene before you, Ser Vincent, nothing more for now. Trust me.”

He looked back up to the scene, finding the veridian knight paused as he reached for a bottle of wine.

“I recall that you had terrible taste in wine,” Vincent quipped, earning an equine huff of dismissal. The scene of past Vincent played out and another annotation appeared, stemming from the bottle in his hand. 'Hartlemane pommel, what blasphemous swine resorts to this? Why do we stock this?'

“Well, excuse me for being a few centuries out of touch.” Luna strode to the other side of the room, beside the corner where past Vincent was heading for.

“How did you find it?” Ser Vincent asked, following the tracks of his past self, who had picked up a small bag of opened flower, that had been left on the side.

“Tis horrendous but...” she trailed off, waiting for Vincent to look to her from beneath. With a grin she continued with, “I find it to be a guilty pleasure.” She chuckled at his grimace, rich like the finer wines that were stored in the cellar.

“Heathen,” Vincent muttered. He accompanied his memory self as he followed subtle clues, powdered hoof steps, a squeak, and finally, a clatter of a fallen broom in the corner. Beside Princess Luna.

Vincent almost wondered if he had stopped the scene once more, but recalled that he had decided to pause for dramatic effect. His past self then rounded the corner seemingly shaking off a silly thought.

“I hope it wasn't too difficult to get out.” Ser Vincent asked Princess Luna, past Vincent discretely pinching some flour in his gloves.

Princess Luna's expression grew mockingly harsh, night-blue eyes still looking back to him kindly, “It wasn't; getting Princess Celestia to stop laughing took longer.”

Past Vincent then spun around, casting a thick arc of white powder to cover the corner. Most struck the wall. A portion, however, struck something else.

Through spluttering and chiming magic a pale blue alicorn appeared forth in the corner. With a frame similar to Fluttershy's, the alicorn came only to chest high, as opposed to her current form that stood shoulder to shoulder with Vincent in the present day. She was mousey in appearance, her dress torn at the fringes and a crown that was lopsided as she wiped away the streak of flour.

“I'm rather interested in what your thought process was at this point,” Luna remarked, watching her old self charge up her horn and glare death up to the taller knight.

“Princess, please, what's going on?” Vincent's question stopped time once more as he simply gave up remembering what happened. The world began to warp and walls began to melt like crumbling sand. The annotations that were before him simply faded into mist.

“Please, Ser Vincent, continue, it will greater help my understanding of you in relation to your mind and dreams.” She joined his side as the wall behind her fell apart, revealing the expansive nothingness between them and a distant starry sky, similar to when she first arrived. “Your mind's been rather addled by anaesthesia, your own magic, and the magic Prince Blue Blood had blasted you with; being how you're not naturally supposed to handle magic, or so I hear, there have been complications.

“Wait, what?” He winced again, gritting his teeth as a piercing ringing erupted from his head. Princess Luna laid a soft, furred hand, cool like a night-time pillow, against the side of his face. The ringing stopped. “A hospital... a train, a tatzlwurm.” Words sprouted around him, more annotations tying themselves to him and orbiting madly, scrambled jargon buzzing angrily.

Luna's pointed horn glowed and her powers silenced and dispersed the words. “I cannot enter your parents dreams, for they were not of this world, were they? That trait has partially passed onto you; you're, let's say, camouflaged amongst the minds of the dreamscape. I wonder. Humans don't have magic, do they?”

“No, they're not supposed to, or not naturally,” he answered as she lowered her hand.

Her expression became stern, as one tends to when deeply explaining their craft. “And because of this, magic has hidden you from my sight for so long. I have been unable to guard you from night terrors or assist you as I may other soldiers.” She titled her head and stared into his malachite eyes. “For some time, your conscious and sub-conscious minds were out of sync and your brain had paid the price for it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Ser Vincent replied calmly, but horror was clearly evident on his face even beneath he hood.

“Simply put, for the past three days, the magic in your body had made it difficult to wake you. Physically you were fine, psychologically your subconscious and conscious were out of sync, drawing forth random memories of the week you were awake at alternating times.” She gave an assuring smile as she stood by his side. “Prince Blue Blood asked for my assistance and I've spent some time bringing you up to speed.”

She nodded back to the scene before them, where Little Luna was about to blast past Vincent.

“Little Luna?” the dream princess remarked with amusement, looking to an annotation that had spawned from the tip of her past's glowing horn. “As a side note, it seems some of your descriptions and mental notes appear in your memories, something I have never seen in other species.” She raised a royal hand and waved it toward the scene, “Now please, lets end this. Try to remember what happened next. It'll be interesting to see your thought process with your own narration.”

Ser Vincent, in his desert coat and with mask still in hand, titled his head before continuing. “How did you get in here then? How did you find me?”

Princess Luna levelled a mischievous glance his way. “Though I normally scour the dreamscape for restless minds, meditating in a hospital bed is a faster, if rather intimate method.” She looked back to the scene, “Difficult to perform for all my subject in one night, and normally results in the subject waking up and asking ludicrous things. Such as 'what are you doing in my home?' I find the comatosed are much more complacent.”

“Insolent fool!” Little Luna barked as her horn grew brighter, “How dare thou assault Our face with the white powder!”

Past Vincent swiftly nipped her horn as if he was nipping the flame of a candle, stunning her with the gall of the act. “Why are you sneaking around?” he asked coolly.

“Worm! You assault us with powder then lay hand upon the royal horn?!” Little Luna began a small tirade, as the present Ser Vincent remembered more and more of the past. The he focused more on the conversation.

“Indeed I did.”

“Who art thou, he who dares commit such crimes and hides behind a mask?”

“Ser Vincent, of the Solaris Knights.”

“Charlatan! Fraud! What sorry state would the knights have to be to accept such scoundrels?”

“A state wherein a pony responds to suspected break-ins reported by castle staff because alicorns keep sneaking around.” Ser Vincent opened his eyes and glanced to Luna before looking back his past self. “Is that a species trait because the princess does it too,” he and his former self both said in unison. The older Luna laughed; Little Luna scowled.

“Nay, we--” Little Luna's stomach gurgled and a blush fiercely broke out. She appeared smaller, pale blue tail tucking in, ears folding flat against her mane, her hands covering her stomach and head sinking. “Traitorous guts,” she hissed.

She seemed so-

“Humiliated? I'm so sorry?”

Ser Vincent looked to his side, finding Princess Luna staring back at him with a sad smile.

“Strange. I always thought you thought little of me by this point. Seems I was wrong.” She nodded back to the scene and Vincent followed her gaze. More words tied to Little Luna. 'Lost and confused'. 'Relying upon Celestia'. 'Doesn't know how to respond'. 'Scared'. 'Hungry'. 'She thinks I'm a threat'. 'Pretty and not a threat'.

“Thank you,” Luna purred. Vincent spared her a glance and she tidied up her ghostly night mane, correcting her tiara. She did so with her eyes closed so he looked back to the memory before him.

“I recall staff were supposed to be waiting on you hand and hoof,” past Vincent said, moving towards a tall fridge. The phrase 'share a slice' sprouted from its silver door. “Quite the introvert these past months.”

“Don't change the subject!” Little Luna yelled, curling her hands into fists by her side. She pointed her primary finger at him in an accusatory manner. “And wherein did We state that you could refer to me as if I was in a lower standing?”

Past Vincent rested a gloved hand on the handle before shooting her a titled stare. “Pardon?”

“No, you shall not be. When addressing Us, thine tongue will obey etiquette of what is to be expected of a knight – if you are such one, that is-- and will refer to us by our title. Yet, you dare prattle on for as long as you have without seeing me in the same eye as you do Princess Celestia.”

“I'm sorry, you've lost me,” Past Vincent answered, pulling open the fridge and becoming bathed in a white light.

“I am Princess Luna and you will treat me as such,” Little Luna stated, her horn glowing and summoning various utensils to her defense. She poised them as if they were hunting spears and Vincent, largely due to the emotionless blank mask, studied them indifferently before looking back to the fridge. “Thou shall cease your attempts to find more powders to smear my pelt with.”

The Luna beside current day Vincent, where they both stood off to the side watching, winced and offered a sheepish smile to the knight. “I am terribly sorry for this.”

Vincent simply returned an amused huff and a raised brow. “It's fine, I'm just wondering, why is half the fridge contents so blurry? I am concentrating.”

Luna looked towards past Vincent as he raided the fridge, finding his gloved hands pushed aside fuzzy objects. There was a small number of cakes and fine treats that were distinct, like the eclairs, but a vast majority were hazy things taking up space.

“In times like these, one fails note the unimportant details. And so, even though you recall moving things around, you cannot recall precisely what you moved out the way, save for one or two things,” she explained, eyeing Little Luna as she levitated a whisk.

“Cur, I am in no mood for such disrespect! I've had my fill of sorrow for so long I am in no need of this! Have at thee!”

She bopped past Vincent with the whisk.

“I want to tread these halls without answering to every maid too scared to approach.”

Thunk! Past Vincent barely flinched from the attack, pulling out a small card he used to save his leftovers in the fridge to finish later and placing it on the side. Little Luna didn't stop her angry onslaught, though at this point, because past Vincent couldn't see Little Luna, present day Vincent could see her either despite where he stood.

“I desire for the shadows of my past to not haunt my every step!”

Thunk!

“I yearn for the day where my sin can be forgotten by the public!”

Thunk.

“I wish not to feel shame for the night, and to cower during the day!”

Thunk...

“I wish...”

Ser Vincent stopped concentrating, wincing and turning back to present day Luna, the one that stood taller and with an understanding smile. Though those deep cerulean eyes of her were tinge with a little sadness she still rested a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “It's fine, Ser Knight. It was an emotional period for me.”

Ser Vincent remembered. He remembered closing the fridge door. He remembered freezing at the sight before him. He felt his gut knot and a shame wash over him as he stared back at the teary eyed mare.

He didn't need to look. Her magical grasp was slipping, numerous pans and loaves falling save the whisk. Past Princess Luna looked broken and defeated, a hot tear falling from her eye as her sombre gaze fell to the floor. Through a choked sob she spoke and it broke his heart, one that he'd convinced most was made of stone at the time.

“I wish I'd never returned,” she managed, slipping to the floor and bringing her knees to her chest.

“Princess Luna,” present Ser Vincent said to the mare by his side, “Are we nearly done here?”

“You're ashamed of this?” she asked with genuine surprise. “Why?”

“Not what's going to happen, just this part. When we start talking I guess I'll be fine.”

More annotations filled the air, none too flattering for the weeping mare he remembered. 'Broken', 'scared', 'guilt-ridden'. Past Vincent stared for a moment, blank faced before the mare thanks to the mask. He reached for a fallen spoon, one of the few that had fallen on the counter. He then sat down before her and waited. All but Little Luna was silent, even the onlookers recalling these events. Past Vincent was patient and he'd wait, not that he had to.

She raised her gaze to the knight, seeing him offering a slice of banoffee pie. She glared once anger, tears of sorrow turning to fiery anger.

“What? What mockery is-”

“Truce!” Past Vincent exclaimed, silencing her. “A momentary truce. You need it, Luna.” She sneered at him but he continued. “I'm sorry.” He placed the plate on the tiled floor and slid it over, Little Luna tucking her tail closer so that the cream couldn't stain it. It wasn't intangible anymore or yet. “This is my private piece of cake I keep in the royal fridge. I like a treat for myself from time to time.”

She wiped away a tear that had ran into some residual flour on her cheek.

“I can't imagine what your going through,” he said. He ignored her snort and continued, “I won't sugar coat it and say it will be easy returning, I won't tell you I will bow and scrape the floor because you asked for it.” He shifted around to sit with his back the counter but maintained eye contact. Another annotation: 'flat ears, hurt by words'.

“I will say that I'm not scared of you in the slightest, even before tonight.”

She perked up, raising her muzzle from her knees.

He continued. “I am not afraid of you because I can see that you so dreadfully hate what you were, so, so long ago. I can feel your regret. No, it won't be easy, returning to princess-hood, but you have time.”

He brought his hand before him, flexing his five digits confined beneath the three digited gloves. “Equestria... Today's Equestria will happily take you back, in time. Maybe a month, maybe a year, but if you listen to what your sister says and just be patient, you'll get everything you wished for.”

Past Vincent reached up his hood. “Well, maybe not that last one. Tell me, have you ever tried banoffee pie?” he asked her. She shook her head and he tapped the floor, beside the plate of pie. “You should. As good as argument to stay with us I've ever known.”

“Stranger, you talk as if I'm a child that needs to be coddled, who fails to understand the reality of the world.” She pushed the pie away. “You insult me even when trying to help me.”

Princess Luna rolled her eyes and patted present Ser Vincent on his desert coat's shoulder. “Ignore her, she was partly touched, I assure you.”

That made Vincent chuckle.

Past Vincent then pulled back the hood and revealing the back of his human head, and his ears, to Little Luna. She stared. “Believe me, I've had plenty of time to get adjust to the world I don't fit into.” He reached up to the straps on the back of his head.

“What... what are you?”

He stopped, turning to face her and spoke with a grin to his voice, “Why, I'm a knight, first and foremost.” He proceeded to undo the straps,

“And you were a princess. Now you're not, but in time, you'll earn it back. You have your sister's unconditional love, you'll gain the trust of castle staff, then piece by piece, you regain the love of Equestria.”

He removed the mask and flipped it around to stare back, but out of the corner of his eye he looked to a jaw-dropped Little Luna.

“Luna, I don't call you princess only because you haven't been reinstated as a co-ruler.” He fully turned to his head to face her. “I am deeply sorry for bringing forth such emotional trouble for you, I'm not used this sort of scenario, but that does not excuse my seemingly heartless nature. It was impolite, even by my standards, and unprofessional, something I often despise.”

“What are you?” Little Luna asked as half her mane fell over her eye.

Past Vincent simply smirked, raising a rueful brow above his warm green eyes. “I do recall stating I was a knight, a Solaris Knight.”

“That doesn't answer my question,” Little Luna pressed.

His smile grew. “Oh, it does.” He nodded his head, eyes growing distant as he looked back to the face of the mask. “It's what I choose to be but...” He thumbed the mask's face, his expression falling. “Well, I'm called a human for what its worth... which isn't much I assure you.” He then cast her a sideways look. “Are you Nightmare Moon?”

She shuddered but shook her head. “Not anymore.”

He gave her a soft smile. “I believe you. I just...” He trailed off, scrunching his face as he mentally hunted down the write words. “... I just hope that, even though you know it will be tough, I hope you believe that one day you and your sister will rule side by side, and be loved by all.” He steadily climbed to his boots, taking the plate of banoffee pie with him. He then extended a gloved hand down to her. “Welcome to Equestria, I hope to see that us misfits can finally fit right in, then I'll call you Princess Luna.”

She stared at him, and then the hand, a smile sprouting across her muzzle for a reasons she couldn't understand. She took his hand and he helped her up.

“Are there many of your kind in Equestria, Ser Knight?” Little Luna asked.

“Only three,” Vincent answered with a neutral tone. He began refitting the mask. “Mother, Father, and I. This is the world I was born into and I've been fighting to carve myself a bit of a content life.” Once he fitted his mask, he turned to her, leaning on the counter and pushing the slice of pie towards her. “Now? Well, nopony gets in my way of a happy life.”

Little Luna took a bite of the pie. Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her once tear-stained cheeks. Her hunger having returned, she began to ravenously demolish the pie. Past Vincent had paused to observed this, earning another blush when the princess noticed. She gulped and offered a sheepish smile.

“Please don't let me stop you,” he said raising his free hand. Once she returned to dining at a more refined paced, he asked, “So what do you think of modern day banoffee pie?”

With an excited glimmer in her eye, or perhaps with sugar rush setting in, she spoke... using the royal Canterlot voice. “We love it!” The entire room shook.

Past Ser Vincent and the onlooker grimaced at the volume, but past Vincent was nearly blown out of his boots by the sheer force. Loose pots and cutlery were launched behind him. His coat fluttered as Little Luna covered her mouth. There was a deafening ringing heard by the Vincents, one having just experienced it and the other just remembering it vividly.

“We're just about done, Ser Vincent,” Luna said, waving her hand and dispelling the world around the onlookers.

Ser Vincent once again found himself in a world of mist and constellations. He buttoned up his desert sand coat, letting his mask hang in the crook of his arm as he looked to Luna. “Why did I need to do this in the first place. I thought you were waking me up?” He grimaced as the ringing remained in his left ear.

“I had to make sure your memory was functioning properly,” she explained. “Magic, it makes you stronger in more ways than one... in terms of strength meaning it has influence on muscles and the like, correct?”

“Aye, amongst my nervous system too.” He pondered over fitting the mask but decided against it. “Faster reaction time, motion sensitive sight, improved healing in that as long as I have magic flowing in me I'll go through the clotting process faster.”

“And in terms of mental faculties... it tampers with your mind after prolonged exposure,” Princess Luna added. “Your mind was, well, healing by strengthening nerve connections and replacing what the doctor calls 'grey matter' with healthier matter... or something-- new age jargon-- after being exposed to your magic for hours.”

“Good thing I only get less than a few minutes worth during adrenaline rushes,” Vincent remarked, rubbing the back of his head with unease. This was the first time he'd heard of his unnatural magic tampering with his mind beyond making him perceive the world as slower for a moment. “So, at least I'll be fit as a fiddle when I awake.”

“Ah.” Was all she said a first before chewing her lip. “Not quite.”

“What happened?” he asked, a scowl quickly setting upon his brow.

“You've woken up numerous times but with memory problems, which was why my presence was desired here. I solved that issue it seems. As for your physical state... you're not going to walk away from this one, or for a while for that matter.” Princess Luna said with unease. She then let her horn glow and the world around them soon became too bright for him to handle.

A new world, the waking world; Vincent felt it as a throbbing in his hip and leg, and as a warmth of blanket up to his chest. A raspy breath burned his throat and lungs, the taste of anaesthetic heavy in the air. There was slight scent of blueberry, fleeting like a dream after awakening. Over a steady, electronic beeping, Vincent heard the rustle of sheets by his side.

“Gah!” He grimaced, sharp canines becoming exposed as tried to sit up. There was immense pain in his side that made him freeze. Moving his legs felt like sandpaper was being rubbed into his very bones, the gritty pieces chaffing against every sinew and muscle that wrapped around them.

“At ease, Ser Knight. “ Princess Luna was standing beside the hospital bed he lay upon, her voice barely above a whisper yet clear and distinct. She was as he saw her in his mind, elegant, graceful and with a mane and tail of the night-time sky. With a glow of her horn she tried to tuck him back in. “You must rest your wounds.”

Vincent had propped himself up by his elbows and scanned the room through blurry eyes. His dirty hair had grown long enough to touch his brow, fall to the back of his neck whilst his coppery stubble had thickened. Tied to the foot of the bed were several balloons wishing him well, on his bedside table were numerous unopened letters. The haze left him after a few blinks. It was a single room, medicine cabinets to the left, chairs for visitors to his right, behind a frowning Princess Luna.

None of the seats were occupied. Vincent wheezed out a dry lungful of stale air.

“Sleep, Ser Vincent. The girls have been visiting by the day but weren't allowed to enter the room,” Luna said, sitting on the bed, mindful not to touch Vincent. “Though Pinkie was only warned after she barged in.”

“Why?” Vincent asked as he eyed a nearby window. A small bird hopped back and forth before taking off into the late evening.

“Why?” Luna's ears shot up, her expression almost aghast. “They're your friends are they not?”

“I... don't... know.” Vincent was not use to many visitors if he was ever so put out of commission. One or two colleagues, his parents, and of course Blue Blood often had snide remarks he'd need to make. What friends he did have he hardly saw much of. He knew he was warming up to the girls but never knew where the line was for friendship these days. He never bothered with it shortly into his career. He'd never... woken up to balloons tied to his bed before.

“Well I suppose beyond their friendship... Fluttershy has interests medically as to your condition, as well as on behalf of a friend of hers, a Stanley?” The princess gave him a lop-sided smile. “Rainbow Dash wanted to see your 'war wound' but Applejack was there to keep her in check. Also, in light of your wardrobe after such blood lose, Rarity has taken up caring for your effects.” She rested her furred hands on her lap and perch herself on the corner of the bed. “I believe Rainbow Dash called them 'snip-shorts', are your species...”

“Yes. No sheathe from birth,” Vincent replied, not meeting her eyes. “And my father and I just call them boxer shorts.”

“Yes, well, Rarity is making replacements. They split when the cannon went off,” Luna added before leveling him a serious stare. “Do you recall what happened days ago?”

“Not yet.” He heard a distant roar in the fog of his memory then voices, commands, breaching the surface. The was fire, there was him dragging a minotaur, there was him passing through train carts to join his fellow soldiers. Sand. The loading door of the carriage fell and then a deafening bang as he gazed into the slimy, split mouth of a tatzlwurm like a horrendous blossoming flower.

He gritted his teeth further when a spike of pain slammed into his thigh, making him flatten against the mattress and pillow. “What's wrong with me?”

“You fractured half the ribs on your side, shattered your hip and popped your femur from its socket,” Princess Luna answered, standing up and patting down her dress. “Though the doctor assures me you will return to full health in time, it will be a while. Your rib cage was their primary focus and that has healed, though you will feel it. Next came reassembling your hip and reinserting the femur, of which you are still receiving advanced medical magical treatment for. You also took a deep incision close to your groin.”

“So...”

“All is well, Ser Vincent, fret not. Your potion assisted in saving most of your skin, but the wound was still deep.” Luna smiled, reassuringly. “Tis only the hip that the doctors are concerned for now. For now, rest, tomorrow you will endure the comfort of your friends and hospital food.” She stood in a more spacious portion of the room, flaring her grand indigo wings. “It was a pleasure despite the terrible circumstance, Ser Vincent.”

He offered her a weak smile, jade eyes shimmering in the late sun. “It was my honour, Princess Luna.”

Her smile grew as her horn charged. Once more he was bathed in light, but was left alone to care for his wounds. For now.

Chapter One, in Which Stories Are Embellished.

It was his ninth day of care, whilst able to sleep and awake, that Ser Vincent was able to move into a wheelchair. He sat through doctors unsure of how to proceed with treating a human until his doctor in Canterlot sent his medical file. Made the magical treatment for his hip go much smoother, figuratively; day by day, he felt fragments of his bones slit back together like a marble puzzle wrapped in flesh.

Being an endling, the last and only equestrian human, meant that most if not all medical procedures were done by the best. As a technically endangered animal, a friend of the prince, a knight, and as guard to Princess Twilight, little to no expense was spared this time.

It wasn't a pleasant stay. He didn't like the window having its curtains open, well except for that one time that Rainbow Dash flew by with Fluttershy for a quick chat. He closed the curtains in case anypony else tried to peek at him without his mask and in such a weakened state. He often only kept his gaze on the doctor, but didn't have it in him to ignore the many nurses of the hospital. He hated feeling so vulnerable, wanted nothing more for ponies to leave him alone.

He remembered days when he would would be treated in Canterlot for sprains, fractures, and a broken forearm; his parents were in awe at how quickly he would heal with Equestria's medical capabilities. They'd tell him horror stories about how it would take weeks if not months for humans to heal from broken bones, as opposed to a couple of days. Months! He didn't want to live in a world where he'd have to take months off from his duty. Fortunately, and even with this being one of the most severe injuries on his file, Ser Vincent would be wheelchair bound today.

Today, as he found out, was the day ponies could visit. He awoke to a male voice, as young as his, and speaking with the tone all storytellers used. He kept quite, feigning a stirring when the storyteller fell silent. He picked back up again soon enough.

“...And I held the door open, smoke rushing over my helmet as Vincent the Nopony carried a Minotaur through the burning train carriage. 'He's the last one!' he yelled, 'It's empty, cut it!' and so I did shortly after Vincent joined us in the last remaining carts.” The words from this stallion stirred something in his mind, like a disturbed hornets nest.

The heat was as oppressing and heavy as the crime boss hanging over his shoulder. The bound minotaur was unconscious as the knight carried him through the blazing carriage, towards a familiar face coughing up a lung.

“We're done! Move!” he barked, stepping through the doorway. Smoke flowed over his mask and hood. The roar of the train engine was a deafening as the smoke was choking. At least the heat of the desert sun wasn't as bad as the fires he'd stepped through.

“You first, Vinnie!” the stallion replied, his horn aglow. Vincent entered the next carriage and the stallion joined him, gold armour charred and a captain's blue helmet plumb scorched. Orange magic encased the carriage coupling before it completely disintegrated...

Like a brilliant flash of lightning the memory came and went. Ser Vincent remained motionless, listening but noting how numb his thigh was. 'Painkillers must still be affect – eight hours, localised anaesthesia, numbness spread to toes and finger tips: orcaphine?'

“So there we were, the heads of small southern crime syndicate trapped in Ser Vincent's signature blue goo, a small team of guards, and several supplies for our army's artillery divisions. Five carriages, eight guardsmen, several train operators pushed to the front carriage, ten prisoners, and one knight left wondering what he was going to do about the tatzlewurm.”

A name surfaced to match the voice and Vincent felt his cheeks tug, a small sign of a smile that he'd recently come to be aware of. He was getting better at this whole facial expression thing.

“What happened then?” Rainbow's eager voice came from the far side, close to the window.

“Well, Vincent offloads the scumbag hard enough to break a table and kicks him for good measure--”

“Seems a bit harsh...” Rarity pointed remarked from his bedside, to his left.. “What do you think, Twilight?”

“I've not heard anything about him using those bandages of his yet, and if what you say is true about how he caught those guys, then he'd have used several rolls of the stuff.” Princess Twilight seemed to be in the same frame of mind as the fashionista. He could hear her fold her arms and shoot an analytical stare.

“Is that really beyond our knight?” Rarity inquired.

“Catching these guys? Nah. Vincent's outstanding in that field. But he's efficient. So I don't get why he'd bother being so overzealous with these guys, kicking them when they're down. Heck, Vincent helps patch up a few bad guys if he thinks he'd handled them a bit too roughly.” Princess Twilight paused, to which a wooden creak, akin to a chair with a pony reclining in it, was heard. “Yeah, no, all the other reports I read when selecting him state he chose to mess with their heads, make them feel outmatched, without control, but he doesn't beat them when they're subdued.”

“Alright, alright.” The stallion conceded and Vincent felt a smirk boldly form. He quickly got rid of it. “Normally, the guys back in barracks like that sort of thing. Ser Vincent, masked vengeance delivering the beatings us regular guardsmen can't.”

“What? Yer mean knights can get away with that?” Applejack seemed to have also paid a visit, sitting or standing by the door.

“Well, since the dawn of their inception, knights have always tried to keep bureaucracy and restrictive laws out of their way. Not to say its a free for all for them, they still have a chain of command and must abide by certain laws, but they don't need a search warrant. And they could hospitalise a stallion without losing their job.”

Vincent heard Fluttershy gasp close to where AJ was.

“That's an uncomfortable amount of power,” Twilight stated.

“Oh, if you ever thought the physical part of training for selection was bad, I hear the way they find out if your the sort to easily abuse that power is worse!” The stallion's tone lowered to a whisper. “Now, you didn't hear it from me, but, let's call them the knight drill sergeants, they use old magic to test you, to see what it would take to make you ever consider doing anything unethical. We're talking restricted section stuff, here.”

“So, what, they ask them questions and read their minds?” Pinkie asked, close to Fluttershy and Applejack. Must be the visiting area.

“No, no. It's like supposed to be a dream where you've made it, you got this power, and then your tempted. Day after day, as you slog through the physical training and the paper tests. Little things in your dreams. I've even heard tales of stallion's being arrested for what the knight's found out they would do!”

'What a load of flub.' Ser Vincent wasn't sure what rumour mill his friend had subscribed to but it needed to stop. True, he didn't need a search warrant, but he needed a damned good cause, often provided by his knight commander. Chances are, if the knights were already involved, then something serious was going down. True, he could hospitalise anypony he wanted, but as the selection process was used to find out, he didn't want to.

To be respected? Yes. If not, then feared? Yes. The culmination of either or both generally put most ne'er-do-wells out of commission. Otherwise he'd conjure a few bruises. But one doesn't call a knight to shatter the knee of a purse snatcher, you call a knight if you need him to flush out a bunker of criminals. Heck, Vincent personally tends to the wounded of the underlings to crime bosses, telling them to sort themselves out. Also such carte blanche methodology only applied to missions or investigations. He couldn't snap an arm because he felt like it. Wouldn't either. What kind of animal has such lack of control? Not him. Not again.

He could hear the impatience in Rainbow's voice. “Hey, we can all ask Vinnie for the details about what he can and can't do, but back to the burning train.”

“Ah!” He heard the stallion clap his hands together, rubbing them and lacing his tone of voice with excitement, “So where was I? Oh yeah. We both look back, Vincent dusting off ash from his desert coat after having done what nopony thought could have been done. We both stand there, tall and coughing our lungs out, as we watch the previous carriage be left behind. That was when the beast returned, skirting the surface sand like and eel in a lake. Faster than most could blink, it erupted forth, breaching the surface like a demonic hand and punching through. Took the whole carriage with it!”

Vincent heard the stepping of hooves close to his bed side. He remained feigning sleep. Hmmm, he couldn't think of a justifiable reason to pretend... he could be awake and be told the story but... maybe he could listen for more inaccuracies.

“So we move on, turning back to collect the trash, when I ask him 'We cant keep feeding it trains, what are we gonna do?' He keeps walking, with his hands behind his back and his masked faced trying to look over his shoulder. He says, slipping into a bit thicker Trottingham dialect, “I'm rather partial to the idea of blasting it to pieces.”

Vincent felt that was wrong somehow...

'Ser Vincent steadies the captain of the guard, a skilled unicorn who was for a long time worthy of his currents rank. He was returning from a personal inspection of a new barracks being built close to Appleloosa when he accompanied the knight.

Vincent watched the previous burning wreck of a carriage drift away in a deceptively slow manner. It was simply slowing down, having been tied to a train with its engine pushed to its extreme. Through all the hacking and wheezing, the spitting and deep breathes, Ser Vincent patted the armoured back of the officer.

“Get it out of your system, we're not done yet,” Vincent stated to his, technically, superior. The knights and regular guard often did have a strange relationship, where knights joined squads and followed orders. At the same time, they were capable of leading teams. Depended on the mission.

“Is the worm... still on our tracks?” the stallion said through a small grin.

Vincent felt a smirk of his own form. “Hot on our tails, you can say.”

Both chuckled, sickly due to the smoke inhalation, Vincent less so as his mask offered some protection. Then an ear splitting roar silenced them. Vincent had been searching the speeding surrounding for travelling mounds bounding their way over towards the train. There was no sign until the last moment where, from the left of the ever distancing burning carriage, the earth was pierced. A large, fleshy pink spear shot out the earth by the tracks. It was a body built to burrow through stone, and as such, it easily tackled the flaming wreck.

The tatzlewurm was particularly aggressive, or hungry. It had been following them for sometime. So far, sacrificing carriages had kept it at bay but it was no longer a viable method of protection. The beast took the flaming wrecking clean of the track, the wooden body exploding into flaming debree and the metal chassis and wheels buckling as they flew off the track. As if the giant beast was a train of its own, it flowed out of the earth and back in, stealing a portion of train carriage to snack on.

“Well, it will make an excellent addition to the wall,” Ser Vincent remarked, feeling a tug on his coat.

“You still adding to that thing?” The captain of the guard pulled him back further into the train, where the prisoners were beginning to pledge oaths to lead better lives.

“Well, I already have a tatzlewurm, but not one of a tatzlewurm tackling a full train carriage.” Ser Vincent turned back, spotting the captain refitting his solar tabard and shaking the soot from his silver tail.

“So how did you beat the last one,” the captain asked, as calmly as he helped a shaking crook to his hooves.

“It triggered a rush in me and I managed to free myself of its tongues, long enough to throw a sleep potion down its gullet.” Ser Vincent said, scanning his belt. He hadn't enough for one of this size. “Whilst it was drowsy and I still had magic in me, I punched it until I cracked its mandible plate then it got the message and fled.”

Ser Vincent recalled the moment he said that. He also made a note not to tell Fluttershy about shattering the facial bones of an animal. Ever.

The stallion continued grandly recalling the events that put Vincent in hospital in the first place. “So , in the end, we drag three canons into the last carriage, heck, we might as well call it the caboose and-”

“Um, If I may interject,” Princess Twilight said. Vincent didn't have to open his eyes to know that she raised her hand with a curled primary finger.

“Gah!” Once again, Rainbow voiced her displeasure.

“A caboose is at the end carriage of a train, true, but not all end carriages are cabooses.”

“Yes, thank you for the correction, Your Majesty,” he heard the stallion say, probably with a practice smile knowing who it was. “Anyhow, we usher the prisoners further into the train whilst bringing a few artillery guys to join us.”

'Three thick cannons, grey as iron, stood equal distances apart in the carriage. Four stallions manned each one, loading them with dense balls of explosive red spheres. That was part of why Vincent was here, to ensure the explosive ammunition was safe for use and storage. The prisoners were him being side tracked.

These 'Boomer' ponies, an unofficial moniker for the 22nd artillery regiment, wore different uniforms to Canterlot and general infantry; almost exclusively earthponies and fitted with lighter armour. No tabard, but dulled grey plated chest pieces, padded pants not to dissimilar to what Ser Vincent wore himself, and a space to holster a short sword. Vincent chose the pants because they were great for absorbing blows on the thigh and shins. Before the scale chest piece he even used the shock shirts the regiment were given.

They worked with the efficiency of soldiers who were drilled and trained day after day. In less than five minutes the cannons were relocated and loaded and aimed at the wall. It was a loading wagon so the wall fell for easier transference of goods onto the train. It wasn't supposed to be opened whilst the train moved. Vincent felt that some rules needed to be broken.

He stood by the lever on one side, the captain of the guard on the other. With a curt nod from the stallion Vincent reached for the handle.

Then a jarring thump struck the carriage. With a metallic screech, the entire thing was shifted to one side as it rode over an undoubtedly disfigured track. The beast roared as the train fell back down with an almighty crash as the wheels hit the track. Vincent lost his footing, leaning onto the lever and pulling it as everypony else battled with inertia. The wall fell as vertigo struck Vincent and he gazed upon carriage

The world seemed to slow as it always had, the colour fleeing from the world where nothing moved. As the door fell, light spilling into the greyed out carriage; he witnessed many things fail before him. A lit canon had toppled and several of the boomers tripped forward, almost out.

With golden furnaces burning deep from within the eyes of his mask Ser Vincent quickly moved. With uneasy steps he shoved a stallion to the far wall, practically taking him off his hooves. The second one was within arms reach and, at the expense of spraining the wrist, he swung him around and into the wall as well. The rush was decreasing; although the initial burst slowed the world down it didn't last.

Although his reactions were quickened, he was only fast enough to grab one stallion by the tail as he teetered over the ledge, arms swinging wildly over the rushing country side. A fourth stallion was just out of Vincent's reach, his gloved tips slipping off his shoulder pauldrens. He watched with expressionless horror as the stallion turned to look him in the eye as he fell out the train.

Ponies were very expressive. Made reading them easy but Vincent was far from a master of such a craft. He didn't need to be in the fleeting moment. Wide eyes shrunk, silvery and staring back, knowing that Vincent might be the last thing he saw. The ears were tall, not pinned to his scalp as most terror stricken ponies would be – it was a horrible form of realisation, that in this passing second he would perish. Vincent hated that ponies were more expressive than humans.

His mane then jerked back toward the train as an orange glow seized the stallion. He was thrown back, over an unlit cannon and into the arms of a still standing boomer. Vincent pulled the teetering stallion he had by the tail in just as the door was torn off. The captain of the guard's horn glowed with a fiery orange, the wavering layer of mana shinning brightly over an otherwise greyed out stern face.

“The cannon!”

The cry from the officer made Vincent refocus. The cannon in question had fallen, the stand keeping it up collapsing along with the a wheel. The lit fuse was halfway through when everpony and the knight's attention was stolen by the return of the tatzlewurm. It was far, its screech signalling its approach.

Vincent did not think about anything else beside the original plan: shoot the tatzlewurm. He picked out a vial of petrify and slapped it against his hip. The stallions ran for the next train as it approached, closer and closer. The captain tried to pull Vincent, but even without the magic coursing through his body, he wouldn't have a chance.

With a mighty draw of enhanced strength, Ser Vincent lifted the cannon and steadied it against his hip. The petrify formula began to encase the metal body at the base as Vincent did his best to secure his stance. His thigh, hip, and where the cannon touched him turned to stone. It felt like he was holding a plastic pipe.

He couldn't hear much of what his friend was saying as he tried to drag the knight; he heard the rush of the train running over metal tracks and the wind roaring as the country side blurred by. What he could see was a strange haze of colour and grey as his mind processed that neither he nor the desert was moving, just the train. A wasteland of sand dotted with cacti and small oases, a dusty world stained with small blots of green beneath a blue sky.

And tunnelling along the surface was the beast. A homing mound chased him and arced neatly from afar, curling closer and closer with cruel intellect.

And then it breached. Its three plated lips split, the pink mouth opened wide and large, slimy teeth glistened before him. Its body became saturated with colour as it moved with terrifying speed. Like a horrific flower blooming before him, purple scaly stem, rosy sepals, and green eel-ish anthers flaying as it descended from its arc.

There was an earth shattering boom that shook him and his core... he was on the floor as a blinding light bathed him, an intense heat washing over him... blood poured out from his ruined pants... Ser Vincent... he...'

“And with the cannon hoisted against his hip, he declared, and I quote, 'If you could comprehend who I was, you'd know how far down the food chain you were, little grub.'”

Vincent opened his eyes to a blurry world just as the stallion clapped his furred hands together.

“Boom. No more tatzlewurm. Also no more use of his legs for the rest of the trip.”

“You know how much I hate embellishment, Kindle,” Ser Vincent managed, propping himself to sit up. Through use of intensive medicines, more so given that he was an endling, Vincent was making a speedy recovery. He could manage to sit up against the headboard and level a bed-headed glare at the captain of the guard. “I would also never say anything so ludicrous.”

The stallion offered a cheeky, lopsided grin as he pointed a finger, “Out loud, right?” He... might have had Vincent there.

In the light of mid-morning day, the captain of the Canterlot guard wore that perpetual smile of his despite the burned fur on his right ear. Enkindle Forge was the definition of a poster boy for the guard; handsome features framed by a thick silver mane and beard, toned muscle wrapped in sunset orange fur, a cutiemark of a sword of fire with bolts of flame flowing from the tip, and eyes like smelted gold staring back warmly.

He was the kind of smug and smarm that belonged to heroes towering over a fallen villain – an endearing kind of arrogance he fired out in small doses. Hit Vincent like a poison dart and made him grumble for a moment. The girls giggled much to his resentment.

Rarity spoke from his bedside, “Well, as I understand it, most crooks tremble from mere stories they hear about you.”

Ser Vincent turned his head to see her seated neatly in a flared dress, the top half a calming blue and the silken bottom half shifting to a pearlescent hue. He could see the material was fairly thick as she smiled back and thought that the autumn chill had to finally be rolling in. Normally it would be a nice sign for one to dress up for someone in hospital, but given that Rarity is one of the few ponies always dressed, it was simply nice that she came. Once again she was the only one dressed.

“If I couldn't finish a job then I wouldn't have a reputation in the first place,” Vincent remarked, feeling his cheek twitch, “I'm not one to exaggerate my capabilities – I am as good as they say because I'm not built upon miracles.”

“Wow, never thought I'd see you smug!” Enkindle remarked, drawing Vincent's attention again. He blinked and rolled his hand. “I mean, without your mask. These days I can feel it in your voice well enough.” He then gestured to the girls. “Also... no mask and we're with company.”

“Well, you're nowhere near as pretty, and as such, not worth the trouble, Kindle.” Vincent felt the smirk on his lips this time as Rainbow rolled her eyes and Rarity grinned. “So please, don't overdo the stories.”

Enkindle raised his hands, revealing burnt patches on his palm. “Okay, okay. Just give me your report and I'll preach it back home.”

“So how you feelin', Vinnie?” Applejack got to her hooves and moved to the foot of the bed, next Pinkie who was tying a new 'get well soon' balloon to it. It was green and glossy, a nice touch he thought.

“Like a dragon bit my side,” he replied with a cheerful voice.

“Did you really hip-fire a cannon?” Rainbow Dash drifted in on a cloud pillow, sitting level and close to Rarity's head.

“Rainbow!” Rarity balked, leaning towards Vincent to avoid the cloud. Her lilac perfume wafted over. “My mane, Rainbow, you'll get it wet!”

“Dash, you can't bring clouds into a hospital!” Twilight berated, pushing the small cumulus back towards the open window with her shimmering magic.

“Ugh, fine!” Dash hopped off the cloud and headed towards the window with in tow. Her tail whipped and her ears fell flat.

“I did indeed,” Vincent answered turning his gaze toward his hip. He dared to twitch his thigh and felt grating from within, of partially mending bone being tested. A vengeful flare of pain burned close to his groin.

“Vincent!” the mares cried out in unison, startling him. He felt a soft hand touch his shoulder. It snapped his focus back to Rarity on reflex.

“Don't strain yourself, dear,” she said with concern.

“I'm not,” he lied, and it was obvious she knew.

Her brow took off to almost nest in her mane, her dubious glare shifting to her friends. She glanced back to him as Fluttershy approached, removing her ivory hand. “Vincent, you sound better than you look. Keep that in mind.”

'Of course... no mask...', he realised. An odd sensation in and of itself. He wasn't used to forgetting he wasn't wearing a mask. Getting used to and working around its presence? Yes. That was different. Like wearing a shirt. Yet, even with the nurses around he remembered to minimise eye contact. Why had he forgotten now.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Fluttershy asked as she softly stepped over. She fidgeted with her hands before tucking his bed sheets in. “If you need more rest we'll go.”

“No,” he said automatically, “I think I'd like it for all of you to stay.” He offered his best kind smile to her, actually feeling his cheeks twitch.

“Well, good, we wanna see you open you get well cards!” Pinkie chirped as she held up the unopened envelopes.

“Well now, Vinnie, since when were you so open to the public?” Enkindle asked. Vincent only noticed the wrappings on his hoof as the captain hobbled over. “Then again, leave you alone with any mare and all that...”

“Kindle...” Vincent's mood fell into a lava pit, his glowering glare targeting the unicorn. It went ignored much to his chagrin.

“I mean, for a guy that isn't big on dating you don't half leave a small trail of broken hearts...” Enkindle continued, eyes coincidently skyward as Vincent began to bare his teeth.

“Oh, really?” Rarity remarked with interest. Her pitch and tone made him freeze as he glanced to Rarity, finding her looking down on him with an almost vulture like glint in her eye. “So you do try for the story book Knight angle, after all.”

“Ma'am, you're looking at the knight that's adding stories to it.” Enkindle added before chuckling warmly.

Vincent sighed and looked to the butter pegasus with his best pleading eyes. “Miss Fluttershy, make them stop, they're teasing me.” He didn't know how well his face acted, but his perfectly mimicked a hurt child.

She smiled before brushing the rose lock of mane that always fell beside her face away from her eye. She gave a mocking, motherly glare to the group. “Now, now, leave the poor stal-- um, man alone.”

There was a mutter of agreement, followed by a pregnant pause. Ser Vincent eyed Enkindle, seeing him bow his head and ears a little but keep that coltish grin. He looked to the rest of the girls, seeing Pinkie and Applejack route through a bunch of letters whilst Twilight smiled back. Rainbow looked bored as she stomped back. However, upon meeting eye contact with Rarity, when sapphire met malachite she burst.

“Oh, do give us a story, Captain!” she blurted, ears pinning back and smiling, yet wincing to avoid Vincent deadly stare.

“Nothing serious mind you,” Enkindle said dissmisively, raising a finger.

“Kindle, no!”

“Just Sapphire Shore, Night Light, a gryphon named Helen...”

“Seriously, Kindle, you're on thin ice!”

“And who can forget that Ser Vincent is the one pony that the Rose House always asks for,” he finished.

Rarity gasped. “My word! Sapphire Shores comes to me for costume fittings!” She then braved a look to Vincent who stared back dead pan to her offended gaze. “You might of mentioned knowing Sapphire Shores once or twice when you visited my boutique.”

“Rarity, I have never expressed any romantic interest in these mares, and as such, never led them to believe I had such interests. Casual intimacies also never being on the table either.” Vincent leaned back into the headboard and felt the sour look on his face curdle further. “I have no idea where those stories come from.” He then fired a glare at Enkindle once more. “Though I have my suspicions.”

The stallion immediately raised his hands again and eased off. “Hey, I only tell the boys about action okay. You're the one that acts and leaves everypony else guessing about what's going on in your head.”

“Indeed!” A bold voice came from beyond the door. It opened with white magic encasing the door handle and Prince Blue Blood stepped in. The stallion was dressed as sharply as ever; expensive horseshoes, groomed powder white fur, crisp white suit, and Vincent could smell the vanilla scent from where he lay in bed. Then the knight noticed the subtle creases in his shirt, the dots of dirt at the bottom of his pants, the missing diamond cuff-link.

“Care to explain why you thought you could hold and fire a cannon?!” Blue Blood's stern glare turned those blue eyes icy, his tongue sharp. “I swear, you think yourself to be invincible! You certainly don't think about anything else.”

“Your Majesty,” Enkindle said, bowing his head.

Blue Blood noticed and gave him a glance, one that Vincent recognised as the one reserved for those who fail top properly greet him. However, his expression immediately softened upon spotting the injuries the captain had sustained. “At ease, captain,” he said with a smile, “Don't hurt yourself.”

He then glared back at the knight who stared impassively back. “You might shatter your shin and not care!”

Ser Vincent rolled his eyes like a rebellious teen. “I am deeply moved by your sentiments. So much so that I vow to transfer to a comfortable life of cake eating.”

“You'd probably find a way to choke a dragon with one,” Blue Blood sniped, strolling over to the bedside opposite Rarity. Fluttershy, with her head bowed, quickly slinked away from the marching prince.

“Hey!” Pinkie exclaimed with indignation. She leant onto the foot of the bed and glared pink death at the stallion. “No smack talk about cakes!”

“Excuse me?!” Prince Blue Blood cried in shock. Who dared address him in such a way? He took a proper look around the room and found the answer hit him hard, weighing down his expression into a form of miserable dead pan. “Oh. Of course.”

The girls weren't too pleased by his presence, Vincent noted, thought the majority were hiding it well enough. If not for years protecting the prince he would not have been able to spot the subtleties of hostile pony body language.

Applejack was furthest from subtle, scowling harshly from the under the brim of her hat; Rainbow kept her ears down as she looked to him, magenta eyes narrowed slightly but no frown visible. Rarity was the hardest to notice but he spotted the obvious signs: though composed and with the ever present air of grace, she had turned her snout up slightly, tail lashing once, and had turned her back slightly to the prince.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Twilight began with a polite smile. She stood up and joined Rarity's side but remained on her hooves. “How was your spa treatment?”

“Brilliant,” Blue Blood said, his frown lessening as he looked to her. “In fact, I am not done. I rushed out as soon as Spike informed me that I could visit.” He made to glance back to Vincent but stopped himself to offer her a critical stare over his nose. “Also I gave the boy some small change for his services – are you giving him an allowance at all? He seemed rather surprised to be paid for his services.”

“Well if he ever wanted anything then I bought it him,” Princess Twilight defended coolly, “Besides, he only ever wants turquoise or comics.” She folded her arms and lifted her snout at the prince.

“Well, gee, Twi,” Applejack interjected with a small glare, “We've being paying Apple Bloom to do her chores since she was eight, reckon you can give lil' Spike a weekly reward.”

“Indeed, Twilight,” Rarity said with exaggerated aghast, “Having poor little Spikey helping you run the library and sending letters at your whim is certainly worthy of a wage.”

Ser Vincent watched Princess Twilight sweat beneath the disapproving stares of her friends. He figured the prince's regular stoic distaste had hardly hit her as hard as Fluttershy's disappointed gaze. Twilight looked down to him, her tail tucking slightly.

“Vincent, surely you'll vouch for me,” she said with an uneasy smile. It faltered as she stared at the knight.

He tried for pitiful look, once again looking to Fluttershy by his side. “I haven't been paid in months and she orders me to warm myself by candlelight when I guard her.”

Fluttershy rolled her eyes and smiled motherly, resting her hand on his forehead. “Oh you poor thi--” She recoiled as he did.

Vincent wasn't used to soft fur blessing his brow, the scent of vanilla and strawberries shampoo falling upon his face. He jerked on contact, instinctively gripped the sheet but stopped himself. He stared back in the passing second, aware that he was going to cover his face with the sheet, aware that he would have searched for his mask, aware that he had startled Fluttershy. Her wings twitched as he looked back, the third second passing before he snapped his attention back to Twilight.

“In all seriousness though, it is a bit...tyrannical that you don't give him some pocket money,” Vincent said without emotion in his tone. He couldn't speak for his face but he assumed that everypony was seeing the look of man swiftly hoping to move on from moments ago. He didn't even try the impossible task of hiding his expression but disguising his tone he could do.

“I'm not a tyrant!” Twilight balked, wings twitching.

“Weeeeell,” Rarity began, “since you're a princess now it is a rather apt term, is it not?”

“No!”

“Are you going to start paying him?” Rainbow added, smiling at the squirming princess.

“Of course and... and...” Twilight shook her head before pointing at Vincent. “Hey! Let's not get side tracked here. We're talking about Vincent.”

“Et tu, princess?” the knight remarked sourly.

“Oh, the hypocrisy!” Twilight shot back. He heard Rarity titter at his side as Princess pointed a harsh glare back at him. It was one of those 'Hush you, you don't get to talk from the hospital bed' glares.

Blue Blood's blue eyes were lukewarm enough for his scolding to mean he wasn't completely upset with Vincent. Simply venting. “Be quiet you idiot. This has been going on long enough.”

“Twelve days is not that long, Your Grace--” Vincent bit his tongue at Blue Blood's sneer; there have been so few times in his career, when he was asked to guard the prince, that Vincent saw such a blatant display of rage.

Not fiery anger, or loud fury, but seething rage. A hatred of something potent enough to spill out of the diamond facade of stoicism the prince had perfected. Usually, the cracks in his mask arrived after a constant ache of a rich noble or C.E.O was trying to push for something, a new law to abuse or certain standards to be slackened for profit's sake, and it was always when the two were in private.

And in the passing heartbeat as the two locked eyes, jaded malachite clashing with glacier blue, the princess sighed and looked away. “Just... be quiet, Vincent Costello. I'm not another enemy. You know that.” He looked back, his expression oddly tired. “This has been going on long enough.”

'What has?' The knight was only allowed a moment of pondering before he was berated once again.

“Ser Vincent!” Blue Blood began in an authoritative tone, groomed ears shooting up, muzzle rising, “I am ordering you to remain here and in no way shape or form, attempt to return to the field until you are given the all clear by your doctors. Do you understand?”

The air was thick with a tension that silenced the girls; the mares glanced at one and other the knight and the prince simply stared back at one and other. Before any of them could speak, Ser Vincent chuckled.

It was subdued at first, he gaze faltering as his chest seemed to spasm. Then lowered his head as soft baritone rumbled with quiet mirth. Then he laughed. He laughed with his head rising back and his cackles summoning flash backs in girls of villains the Elements had bested. Vincent laughed, his green eyes bright as he mockingly defied the scolding fraternal stare of Blue Blood.

With a space between chuckles, he said, “You have no power here! You surrendered such abilities when you made it my assignment to guard the princess.” He then went back to laughing. He felt his cheeks strain and it felt good.

“In that case, Ser Vincent, you are to remain on sick leave until you are feeling better,” Twilight said instantly.

Vincent stopped laughing. He felt his face fall as he lowered his head, chin touching his lightly furred chest and hair falling to cover his brow. “Bugger.” And so Ser Vincent accepted his fate, to the sound of Captain Enkindle Forge and the girls quietly snickering.

Author's Notes:

Behold! The sequel of Cloth Hearted, Armoured Skin. making it the sixth installment of the Changing States of Knight series! That's amazing! Even with this one having a long delay in being submitted the support has been simply mesmerising!

It starts with To See Both Faces. I cannot stress how important it is to read this in order to understand the world this is set in, but to summerise: anthro ponies are tastefully nudists unless specifically stated otherwise. No rude or explicit material will be described in this story.

I'd appreciate it that if you liked you also favourited and vice versa. It would bring further joy to see comments and critiques, to further my writing. I do hope you enjoy this story as you have enjoyed my past entries. If you are new and put off by this being the sixth installment, fret not, for these stories are relatively short.

Have a blast either way!

Chapter Two, In Which Relaxation Begins With Work

Ser Vincent was not one to enjoy being seen as weak in the eyes of ponies.

Beyond the reasons from before his knighthood, Ser Vincent was sentry of might, a guard of the innocent, a protector of the needy, a force that hunted and broke the wicked – and for these reasons he hated being seen as vulnerable. As having been broken.

Of course, injuries happen, he would not dispute it. However, potentially weeks of being unable to even stand for ten minutes would only do harm to his image. A well cultivated image and name that was respected and feared, and certainly not attained whilst wheelchair bound.

“Hey Vinnie, you okay?” Pinkie Pie had volunteered to drive him out of the hospital. She had been her usual cheery self, humming as she pushed him along. She leant over, opposite the side where Vincent rested his masked head in his hand. “I'm getting the feeling you're a bit of a mister frowny pants at the moment.” She pursed her lips and squinted hard. “I can feel it.”

“Never better, Pinkie,” he replied automatically, his merry voice easily masking his inner turmoil. “Well, maybe I have been, but you get the idea.”

He felt a bit better having gathered his ensemble and donned his stallion guise, as such as it was. Back to being Ser Vincent, the strange dressed stallion. Alas the pain in his hip reminded him that he was crippled, but hey, small victories and what not. At least he wasn't fighting against fractured ribs. That had been seen to as a priority and whatever residual pain was numbed by painkillers. Then again, it wasn't a secret in Ponyville as to what he was. 'I'd hate to admit it, but perhaps this is more of a self-comfort thing.'

Thanks to magical operations and procedures he received he didn't need a cast but couldn't stand for too long. Merely long enough to dress himself with clothing Rarity had brought with her. His boxer shorts, or snip shorts as everypony else called them, were a bit... tight but other than that she did a fantastic job in salvaging his wardrobe.

“Think of it this way, Ser Knight, you can finally relax after such a perilous ordeal,” Rarity remarked as her hoof struck cobblestone.

“I relax well enough of on the train journeys; a carriage is practically my second home, the seat my bed,” Vincent said. He glanced up to Rarity who returned a scrunched muzzle.

“Hardly sounds therapeutic after extraneous activities. I'm sure a few days in the park will broaden your R and R horizons, right girls?” Rarity's question was met with agreements from the girl, minus Applejack and Fluttershy who had left to return their homes upon entering Ponyville.

Applejack only had time in the morning and left not so long ago to continue her farm duties. Fluttershy was the same and informed him that Stanley would be happy to hear the news. Prince Blue Blood had left not long after Twilight's decree, oddly smug and happy and likely to be at the spa until the train arrives.

Ser Vincent turned to the only other friend who had walked behind the group since they left the hospital. “Captain Enkindle, I require assistance. I'm being overwhelmed.”

The captain smiled and shook his head. “My apologies, Ser Knight, but what you ask of me is beyond my capabilities. Also I am off duty and don't want to assist in your futile escape efforts, so, nyah!” The captain stuck his tongue out, ears flattening despite one being burnt. He sported bandages and a bag of more bandages and ointment, for burns and fur growth.

“Traitor,” Vincent grumbled.

“Why don't you work on your drawings, Vincent?” Princess Twilight suggested helpfully, but he practically heard the eye-roll.

“Oh, do you still have The Wall?” Captain Enkindle asked with interest.

“Yeah he does,” Rainbow interjected, peering over a cloud edge, “Had a big ol' map of Equestria painted on his bedroom wall.” Rainbow wasted no time in collecting a new cloud to lounge upon and had been using her wings to keep it trailing the group.

“So what is it now, you working the south until that's full?” The captain whistled. “I remembered when you first started that thing. How's it going anyhow?”

“Only need a load of missions from the south and it'll look good, Kindle,” Vincent called back, looking to the path ahead through shadowed gaze. 'Other than Ponyville, this is the first clear cut mission where I can safely say it was worth the wall. That ridge east of Appleloosa was gorge--'

“So you got around to actually doing some sight seeing then?” the Captain added, derailing Vincent train if thought. “You were always going on about getting around to do it. Glad to hear you finally went through with it.”

“Not... exactly, Kindle.” Vincent rubbed the back of his hood as he glanced back, beyond Pinkie. “I've been rather busy.”

The Captain eyes widened slightly, ears flickering before acceptance claimed his features. “Forgive me, Vincent, but how long have you planned this for? Six years now?” He shook his head. “It's just a few weeks at most; after all these years you should have been to at least one of those places.”

“Yes, well, duty called,” Vincent dismissed coolly, looking forward once more. He sat up to avoid the impression of a sulking teen. The painkillers had reduced the stinging grind of his mending bones to a constant throb. He was on half dosage of prescription to maintain lucidity.

“All I'm saying is, you're not the only knight in existence,” Enkindle remarked as he strolled into Vincent's field of view. “You need to take a step back every now and then, you know?” He offered a sincere smile and a tilt of the head. “Breathe easy, without the mask.”

“Believe me, you're not the only one to have had this discussion,” Rarity remarked.

“Yeah, Vincent,” Princess Twilight said to him, “You've worked hard, you've earned it.”

Much to everypony's surprise the knight huffed, seemingly amused. “Oh, well, this isn't exactly a world where those who do deserve something for working hard get it.” It was surprisingly bitter comment to come from the human, it even caught him off guard. He looked back to the Captain and found him glaring back.

“Ser Vincent, from one professional to another, I implore you to heed her highness' order. As an old friend, as distant we may have drifted, please listen to me.” He stepped in front of the wheelchair, stopping it in its tracks. Pinkie nearly toppled over it as Vincent look up to the stern, yet sad eyed stallion. “Take a break before you break. And fix that chip on your shoulder.” He straightened up as best he could on crutches and offered a more friendly, dazzling smile. “Fates know you have enough on there.”

Captain Enkindle hobbled back the way they came, turning to offer a bowed head. “Now, if you'll excuse me, your majesty, ladies, I'm going to do another check on our injured guardsmen. Farewell.”

The girls all offered a wave, Pinkie pausing to spin Vincent around in his wheelchair to face the parting captain. He stared back at the stallion as he walked further and further away. There was a quiet for a time, as Vincent was trundled along the path into the town. As he was pushed along the pavement, Pinkie finally broke the silence.

“So, Vinnie, how come you haven't opened your cards yet?” Her question made him look down to his lap, where several unopened letters lay.

“I honestly don't know. I'm not used to so many so I haven't really, um, gotten around to them?” He wasn't sure himself as to why he let them linger on the bedside table, unopened. Or rather, he had a hunch, but nothing so concrete: he was so unused to getting more than two get well cards that he was simply overwhelmed and chose to leave them.

'Nothing ill can surely come of this. Quit being preposterous you fool.'

“I think they're long overdue for fresh air, Vinnie,” Rainbow quipped with a flat stare as she drifted by.

“Indeed,” Rarity remarked as the group turned a corner, “Why with anypony else I dare say I would be offended.” She cast him a small pout. “Alas, since it is Ser Vincent, what else should I expect?”

“I know, right?” Princess Twilight added with a wry grin,“Nopony forgets to open their cards, and what do you know, Nopony did.”

“The point has been made,” Vincent said with a playful, but harsh edge.

Pinkie then leant over towards his ear. “Psst! I think you should start opening your cards,” she whispered.

Ser Vincent rolled his eyes, letting honest mirth creep into his voice as he tilted his head her way, “Thank you for the advice.”

“No problem!” she chirped before straightening up to beam a smile.

“Can we stop off somewhere?” Vincent asked. “Just to open these letters for now.”

“Sure, there's a restaurant that's good as a coffee parlour,” Twilight said, “we can stop by – it is pretty close.” She gave Vincent a soft smile and he nodded. She lead him through the street, conversing with Rarity for most of the journey.

“Say, why don't you hang out with your pal?” Pinkie said, tapping his shoulder. “You can catch up! Sounds like you guys have a lot of that to do.”

“We're busy,” Vincent dismissed, “Me as a knight and he in his long overdue position as captain of the guard.” He half-turned his head back to her and said, “We do have a nice chat every now and then.” Vincent then returned a passing greeting. It was new practice he had taken up in recent days; of course he was no stranger to greetings, even back in Canterlot from castle staff, but denizens of the capital typically avoided him. Not all, but enough to embed a sense of isolation amongst a crowd at first.

“That's a good start but you can do better,” she replied in a chipper tone. She wheeled him further along the pavement as they rounded another corner. “I think you two should hang out more often.”

“Noted,” Vincent muttered.

The group pulled up to a quaint little restaurant: an enlarged cottage, reminiscent of an old fashioned inn. Given the history of Ponyville, it was possible to have been once, a stopping point between Canterlot and southern territories that were yet to be charted-- before Apploosa, Dodge City, or even before Las Pegasus was a collection of rain clouds. The yard was fenced by rose bushes and had patio tables. Once of which Vincent had found himself wheeled up to.

“Tell you what girls, you tell aunt Pinkie what looks yummy and she'll buy it. Her treat!” Pinkie offered as Twilight and Rarity took their seats opposite the knight.

“Oh, why thank you,” Rarity said with a smile. Everypony gave their order: Twilight had a hayshake, Rainbow opted for a cinnamon roll and a 'cup of joe' as she dispelled her cloud cart and pulled up a chair, whilst Rarity request was an iced haifen coffee with lemon peel and a mint leaf.

“Gotcha,” Pinkie said before coming to Vincent. “What about you, big guy?”

Vincent gave an audible, amused huff and tilted his head. “I appreciate the gesture, Pinkie, but I'm afraid I'll decline. My stomach feels rough as it is.” He looked up to her, “Thank you for the offer.”

Pinkie Pie disappeared into the cafe, leaving the knight with the princess and her friends. Or were they his friends as well? He didn't know at what point a pony one met daily could be considered a friend, perhaps he was at the cusp of that line, here at the table. And then there was what was on his lap: likely get-well letters.

“So, Vinnie, whatcha got planned for for the few weeks?” Rainbow asked as she reclined into her seat. She blew the red of her mane out of face. “Anything spring to mind? Gonna grumpily scoot around all the time?”

He sighed deeply, slumping his shoulders for added effect. He aimed a tilted stare towards her, “Perhaps you know of activities suited for a dislocated femur and glass ribs?” He re-orientated his masked stare. “I'll spend time indoors, with a good book or two, review a few study notes.”

Twilight ears perked up, her eyes alight with a hungry spark. “Oh, what are you hoping to chase up?” She leant forward with interest. “Got a project in the works?”

He brought a gloved hand to rub the underside of his mask's muzzle. “I have an idea for a new project, need a few pieces of data – mostly surrounding fur and mane.”

“Whatever for?” Rarity inquired, tidying her dress by the hem.

Vincent turned to her and paused for several passing moments. He wasn't silent, offering a quiet hum before he leant towards her. “Actually, Rarity, maybe you could-ack!” He recoiled in his seat, jerking to his other side to ease weight off his wounded leg and minimise pressure to his lower ribs.

Rarity winced. “Vincent, dear, please don't strain yourself,” she said as Pinkie returned with a tray of drinks. “It already sounds as if you hurt yourself enough whilst on the clock.”

“Is Vinnie getting antsy in his seaty?” Pinkie asked with a grin. She handed out the drinks, Dash taking and then loudly tearing into her treat.

“Fell on old habits; I used a lot of expressive mannerisms to make up for the mask and getup,” he admitted with a shrug. His disguise as an odd stallion served him well, from the face shadowing hood to the tip of his mop tail. “They're sort of a part of me now.”

“You could always take your mask off,” Twilight commented before sipping her hayshake. She felt Vincent lock eyes with her beneath the mask but she didn't flinch, innocently slurping her drink. She fired an eye-roll his way, “Well you could. Ponyville's kind of on your side right now.”

Before Vincent shot back his retort Rarity spoke for him. “Now, now, I think the dear knight has had enough bruises prodded for a while--” she thanked Pinkie as she took her ice coffee – “but back to your request, Ser Vincent, as to what it is mainly.”

She threw him a small wink when she looked back to him. Vincent did not miss the opportunity.

“I was wondering if you would care to assist me on my next project, just a few questions about manes and fur,” he gave a gesture to himself, “As you may guess, you'd be far more knowledgable in those departments than myself; my work is largely adding abilities and changing the physiology, I know more about what goes on during a transformation beneath the skin than about the hair follicles. What I studied of it was simple, that hair is simply keratin, proteins and all, its purpose, etc.”

He gave a shrug. “I have no idea what makes for good shampoo, or what what make for better fur dye, or--”

“Ser Vincent!” There was a flutter of wings as a grey mare swooped down from up high. Her erratic flight path whipped her mane from side to side and made things difficult for the stallion following her. She came to a skidding halt, her horseshoes grinding against the stone.

Ser Vincent stood up all too swiftly to prevent her from crashing into Rainbow Dash and his hip blossomed with pain. He heard the girls yell his name but the spike of agony deafened him to it for the moment. Her brown bag of letters slapped his good leg but the shoulder high mare still crashed into him. He shifted his weight to his good leg as he held her close.

“Ah!-” he began with a jovial tone to hide his pent up agony, “-- Mrs Doo, always a pleasure!”

She leant back, doe-eyed as ever, but just as sheepish as the first time she crashed into his house door. “Sorry, Ser Vincent, but this was an important order. Had to be delivered ASAP!”

Vincent lowered himself back into his seat and released a withheld sigh as quietly as he could. Even then it was akin to a steam engine releasing steam. “No bother,” he said kindly. He hadn't minded her mishaps before but for once he was irritated. Not enough to complain. Never enough.

“Careful, Ditzy,” Dash said with a scowl, “Vinnie's not quite up to snuff, so try landing a bit further back next time.”

Vincent found the poor mare's embarrassment rather adorable, from the way she fiddled with her uniform's buttons to the way her ears fell into her mane. It was shame she looked so downcast. “Sorry, sorry--” and then she immediately perked up, “But this is an important delivery!”

A large pegasus dropped a heavy wooden box onto the table, between the drinks that shook. He wheezed out a sigh before wiping his brow and turning to the postal pony. “A'ight, I'm done, you get the papers signed and I'm gonna go on break.” He walked off, stretching his wings and arms Vincent looked a the box. He recognised the mining stamp: a pickaxe held in a diamond dog paw.

“Oooh, what's in it?” Pinkie leant onto the table and eyed the box with great interest. The other girls also studied it themselves as Vincent waited for papers that Ditzy was fishing out of her bag.

“Payment for my service,” he said as he received a clipboard and pencil. He paused on a signature line to glance to Twilight. “If you wish to satisfy your curiosity, go ahead, but you'll be helping me carry it where it needs to go.” He nodded at the box before concentrating on signing the papers. He wasn't sure if the chicken scratch was because of the fresh pulsating ache in his side or not.

Using her magic Twilight eased out the nail of the lid one by one, setting them aside neatly. The girls leaned in, Rarity sipping on her ice coffee. Once the lid was removed jaws dropped.

“Woah...” Dash whispered as Vincent finished signing the papers.

“Are those bullions?” Twilight asked, still stunned.

Rarity had taken it upon herself to remove a block from the box. It was wrapped in white cloth, coddled like a child, appearing even more so when she exposed its shimmering face.

“Pure platinum,” Vincent replied casually, returning the clipboard and pencil. “Thank you. The paper said there was four in there.”

“Kilograms?” Dash asked still wide eyed.

“Nope. Bullions, each weighing ten-kilos,” he added before being tapped on the shoulder. He looked back up to Ditzy to see her proudly presenting him a red letter. “Two times more than usual, I wonder why?” He tilted his head. “Thank you, Mrs Doo, and as always it has been a pleasure.”

“Really?” she replied with surprise. “Even after hurting you?”

At her ear wilt, Vincent acted quickly with warm words. “I think it hurt me more to see you so ashamed, accidents happen and you were doing your job. I can't tell you how often that happens to me.” He finished with a fake, pleasant chuckle that brought the desired smile to her lips. “It'll take a lot more than that to keep me down, such as your wilting form.”

She meekly scuffed the curb with her hoof before beaming a smile. “Okay, if you say so!”

“I do, that smile is so much better, as well as have a nice day,” Vincent finished before turning to the table, gaze on the letter in his hand. She left, taking to the sky. He achieved what he set out to do: display his apathy to the pain she caused, reassured her that he was fine despite the throbbing sting in his side, and made her feel a little better about herself, at the least enough to carry on working.

He looked up to the group, stoic mask facing the arched brows of the mares present. He read the mischievous faces between Pinkie and Dash, incredulous from Twilight, and general mirth from Rarity.

“H-have I done something peculiar?” he asked, freezing whilst reaching for a knife before him.

“Nothing,” Twilight said, in that dangerous tone that said he had, “Nothing at all.”

“It hardly seems that way,” he quickly stated, unease seeping into core.

“What's the Hound and Pony Mining Company?” Rarity asked as she studied the bullion in both hands. Her primary fur finger ran over the zero-point-nine-zero-zero imprinting below the branding.

“It's where those diamond dogs I apprehended when I first arrive were sent,” he replied as he pulled out the letter from its envelope, “It a large plot of land, enough to sustain their kind for sixteen-generations and provide jobs, all the while integrating them into Equestrian society.”

Twilight continued as Vincent fell silent upon reading the letter. “Diamond dogs are adamant in subterranean living, so the land may sound large but most of its underground. Princess Celestia has been trying to encourage peace between our species for centuries and the reserve has been making huge strides.” She beamed a smile to Pinkie. “All we get is mostly copper, iron, titanium and aluminium – all the gems, gold and such is theirs.”

Dash took hold of the platinum bullion handed to her by Rarity, her ears perking as she held it carefully, daring not to scratch it. “How much is this worth?” she asked herself before glancing to Vincent, “Like, do all knight's make this much?”

Vincent stopped reading to, mechanically and silently, stare at Rainbow. He waited until she felt cold from his gaze alone, until her ears had fallen, before speaking in stern, quiet voice. “Like you , Miss Dash, I make a difference and that is all that matters to me for now.”

He then quickly returned back to reading the letter, his words warming back to friendly. “This is a commission, an urgent one at that. My salary, if you must know, is not even a third of the regular.”

“Oh, so is somepony... or doggy, asking for a potion?” Pinkie asked, gleefully taking a bullion of her own from the box. “I didn't know you were selling potions.” Her enthusiasm deflated as she glanced back to the bullion in her hand, her mane deflating and a frown forming. “Wow, Vinnie, you're pretty expensive.”

“Ponies generally know that I am a master of transmogrification,” Vincent said, his speech slowing as he read on, “I'm licensed for all potions under such field and several others, except medicine, and hardly many ask me to make a batch of gill producing drinks, save the odd regiment desperate in the army. But I will help others freely, especially the ill or those on deaths door.”

He then ripped up the letter and stuffed into his pocket before folding his arms and huffing. “I know what I want to do with my sick leave,” was all he said.

The girls shared a glance before Twilight spoke. “And that is?”

“Go to Canterlot and save some rich idiot's daughter from dying a horrible death.” He then pointed at each mare with his gloved hand, “And since you all touched my money you can help.”

Author's Notes:

Apologies to the late update, christmas time has been hectic, and as such I should inform you that the next update may come around new years.

I hope you enjoy it for now! If I don't post before then, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Chapter Three, In Which A Daring Escape Is Foiled.

Ser Vincent took a shaky breath as he was pushed over another curb; every street on the way to the train station was suddenly uneven, or perhaps it always had been but he hadn't been paying attention as he was being carried by the seat of his pants.

He exhaled on the trundle of the wheel by his side, his arms on the rests and the letters on his lap. Pinkie had been tasked with carrying the forty kilos of platinum due to her innate strength and Rarity had taken over. Twilight still had her shake.

Vincent had been plotting as he was pushed along, autonomously responding to question but with his mind always elsewhere. A quick rehearsal of fake answers, some of which he had already dished out, was preparing him as he made his way over to the train station

With both the prince and the captain busy I might just be able to get what I need in time. Blue Blood's been fairly objective to my use of the book recently. But nothing stand between me and full recovery. He felt a grin form under his reinforced stallion mask and it felt good. He just needed to get the plan in motion.

“Rainbow Dash?” he said, lifting his hooded gaze to the mare lazily rowing on a cloud bed with her wings. The sun was blinding but he caught the rainbow whip of her mane as she glanced down his way.

“Yeah?”

“You're pretty fast.”

She huffed and snaked her tail that hung over the edge, “You know it.”

“I need you to quickly retrieve something for me,” he said and then templed his gloved hands. “If you promise to be quick.”

Dash leapt off the cloud with almost liquid grace and landed with a loud 'clop. She spun around and folded her arms beneath her small bust. “You won't notice that I left. Hit me!”

“I need a black book, has a lock on the side.” He used his hands to gesture to its size, and said, “It is in my room under the mattress beneath the right side of the bed.”

“Seems important,” Twilight commented.

“It is to me.” They kept moving as Rainbow took to the air but remained ahead. Vincent tilted his head up to her.

“Black book under the bed, piece of cake,” she summerised with a nod.

“And the locked door?” Vincent added, fishing out a key chain and picking out a silver key. They were encased in a blue-glow before flying up to the wonderbolt.

“Do be quick, Dash, the train leaves soon,” Vincent said. She gave him a salute before bolting off over the cottages.

“The train leaves in an hour,” Rarity said with an eye-roll.

“On time is late, early is on time,” Vincent simply replied with false mirth in his words. “I'll understand if none of you wish to accompany me over...” He trailed off, glancing to Princess Twilight and letting the smirk his voice be heard, “You can just leave that crate on my lap and be on your merry way.”

“Well that's out of the question,” Rarity stated, “And speaking of, what's special about the book?”

“I thought it was universal not to ask about little black books?” Vincent coyly replied, straightening up as best he could.

“Oh, but to pry is natural,” she said sweetly. “As is to tell eventually.”

“I bet its chock full of recipes,” Pinkie replied. She leant over to Twilight, swinging the crate to her other hip, “I keep my alcoholic treat book under Gummy's bed so if any pony wants to steal it he bites them.” She flashed a dark conspiratorial glare before bouncing back to her bubbly self.

Twilight rolled her eyes, catching sight of Rarity's wry grin in the progress. “Well,” Twilight said, “If we're going to Canterlot then there's something I want to try.” She leapt into the air, spread her wings, wobbled and grumbled, before looking down to her friends and guard. “I'm just gonna fetch a potion; you might like this one, Vincent!”

“Oh?” His interest spiked. What potion would the avatar of magic brew? And one with the resources that a princess had at her finger tips. Alas, his curiosity gave to concern when she bobbled through the air with far less grace than Rainbow had displayed, soon out of sight.”

“She's... getting better,” Rarity remarked, with half the optimism that Pinkie would.

“Yeah! She still airborne!” Pinkie shared a giggle with Rarity as they made their way to the train station. If Ser Vincent were to be honest as a professional who has only observed skilled flyers who were among his ranks, then comparatively speaking, Twilight had a lot of work ahead of her. Compared to the common citizen then she may pass for an occasionally clumsy pegasus.

“Hey, Vinnie,” Pinkie said with curiosity lacing her tone, “Could you make a potion to give ponies wings?”

“Pinkie, whatever do you--” Rarity began before being interrupted.

“Griffin, bat, or dragon-like?” Vincent replied. Noticing the stunned silence Vincent quickly corrected himself. “No, Pinkie, I have not.” His voice turned stern as she gave him a conspiratorial, mischievous look, “Ever.”

“If you say so, I mean, you wouldn't be holding out on us, would you?” Pinkie added with a playful scowl.

“Why don't you ask and I'll tell you if it's worth my time to make?” he replied shrewdly.

“Well, I for one, wonder if you have anything that's good for water-proofing without sacrificing the elasticity or making the fabric stiff like a bad starch invasion,” Rarity said, tapping the wheelchair handles as she pushed. “I could make a such beautiful, yet practical, dresses for the wetter seasons.”

'Water-proof dresses?' It wasn't an idea he thought to highly of, but if any pony could prove him wrong, it would be a savvy business mare like her. Fashion was her specialty, not his.

“My coat's waterproof; I use my own formula,” Vincent replied, turning his gaze and mask as far back as he comfortably could, “One coat, and forever enduring against anything. You've handled it in the past, how has it felt?”

She sucked in a breath between her teeth and then spoke. “Not really what I'm looking for. Whilst, indeed, offering a flexibility, it's not exactly good for-- Ooooh!” Her pitch jumped as she spoke to Pinkie. “Maybe a line of skirts? You do tend to get a lot of grass and dirt stains that come off all to easily.”

“So... stain-proof then?” Pinkie concluded with uncertainty. She gave Vincent a skeptical look and returned the typical stoic stare of the mask.

“Yes!” Rarity said, “I'm looking for a way of preserving my designs, making them a tad hardier against the everyday danger to them; water, dirt, coffee spills, etc. the selling point isn't the design but the endurance!”

“Not the design?!” Pinkie almost yelled in shock.

“Naturally, dear heart, my designs will be bold, captivating, and gorgeous, but the stain proof aspect will be a lovely bonus,” Rarity finished.

“Then, I'm sorry, Rarity, what you're looking for is beyond me for now. I'll keep an eye out, re-read a few books, maybe ask a colleague or two,” Vincent said, turning to Pinkie.

“Marvelous!” Rarity cheered before quietening down, “But please don't get carried away, it's just a small idea, I'm doing terrific without it.”

Vincent addressed Pinkie,“And you?”

She hummed and hawwed, swinging the crate from side to side as she walked beside him. “Got anything that can make me talk to animals?”

The only show of dead-pan in the knight was in his tone of voice,“... No, Fluttershy, I don't.”

Pinkie's bubbly laughter burst out once more, “No, not for Fluttershy. Although she would be really, really happy if you did have one.” She stopped swaying. “It's for me! I want to know what my animal friends really want for their birthdays.”

“Can't say I ever thought about an animal communication potion.” He scratched the top of his hood. “I honestly don't think I could alter any part of the equine or human body to help with that.”

Rarity chipped in helpfully, “It is a bit of an odd one, Pinkie dear.”

“Okay, then how about a potion that can make me see in the dark?” Pinkie inquired.

“Yes, that's easy enough. When would you--”

“How about change my fur and mane colour, but not like fur dye, like, completly change my colour. Not that I want to, but what if I need to strut around in disguise?”

“Again, yes, but--”

“Turn lead into gold?”

“That's one of the basics,” Ser Vincent answered, yet again, leaving her to her next question, and then the next and the next. She just seemed to be firing off at him with complete disregard for his actual answers. “She's going to like this all the way, isn't she?”

“It could be worse,” Rarity whispered, “You could be stuck with her like this in the middle of a dessert, on a railroad trolley, and with miles and miles to go before hitting town.”

“I'm curious about how specific that is,” Vincent admitted.

“Well, you're in for a small taste.”

“Hey, are you listening?” Pinkie said with slight offense.

“Are you?” Vincent returned the accusation by pointing his primary finger. “It would be nice to answer one of these before moving onto the next one.”

“Oh, well, I'll start again then...

“Heads up, Vinnie!” Rainbow's outcry as she swooped down from up high stopped him – or at least Rarity seeing as she was his motor for the time being-- dead in his tracks before the cabin at the train station. She landed with a clop. She handed over a hardback book, black and with a small brass lock on the edge. “Here ya go, big guy.”

“I must say, I'm rather disappointed it took this long, Dash,” Vincent teased, tilting his head as he look her in the eye. They narrowed but she still grinned as she handed back his door key.

“Hey, it ain't my fault you had the thing wedged tight between the bed panels,” she said as she folded her arms and turned towards the station. “Like, why don't you keep it under your pillow or something.”

“Spoken as somepony who has never slept with a book this thick under their pillow.” Vincent replied, lofting the fairly thick book. Though its girth was due to the cover, spine and the locking mechanism. He glanced back to Rarity, “Shall we be off then? Want me to take over, I'm sure that I--”

“Of course,” Rarity said sweetly, pushing him along and ignoring his offer.

“Or not,” Vincent muttered.

“What is in that thing anyway?” Rainbow asked, folding her wings as she stepped on the porch of the station cabin.

“It's his special cookbook!” Pinkie answered. “Got's all kind of cool potions in it.”

“That's an accurate description I suppose,” Vincent said as he was trundled up the ramp. He set the book on his lap. He spotted Dash as she about the enter the cabin and ticket office. “Erm, Rainbow Dash, you won't need to purchase any tickets; the royal family and whomever she declares as her company rides free.”

“What!?” the girls all exclaimed.

Vincent looked between them before settling his gaze on Rarity. “Perhaps Princess Twilight has not been made aware of such benefits of the crown?” Then a thought dawned upon him, a realisation that made him blink under the mask. “Speaking of which... why hasn't she been wearing her crown?”

“Believe me, I've tried convincing her,” Rarity said with an eye roll and smirk, “But, she chose an approachable aesthetic – au natural, as it were. No royal robes, no imposing crown, just the lovely Twilight Sparkle up front, as she is, the Princess of Friendship.” She leant down with just enough smugness to not break her ladylike demeanour and said, “Something about she wants pony's to see her for who she and for what she does, rather than be seen simply as her title, Ser Knight.”

Rarity caught a harsh flare of malachite the empty eyes of the mask as he turned to look her dead in the eye. Before he could respond she pushed him towards the platform. “Well, that certainly sorts things out, right girls? Though I will have to head home and find an adorable purse to match my outfit, and I know just the one in my bedroom.” Rarity lowered her gaze and offered a small pout, her sapphire eyes shimmering as her lip quivered – Rainbow being who she spoke to, “But it's on the other side of town and I fear I may miss the train...”

Dash unleashed exaggerated, exasperated groan complete slumping wings and shoulders. She flopped her weight forward, hunching over with a look of misery. “Fine, but you better know exactly where it is, Rarity, 'cuz I ain't searching through mountains of purses.”

Rarity beamed at her, “You are too kind! You'll find a snowy handbag, silver chain straps with a gold stitched shoulder guard, my cutie mark is is on the outward facing side, the entire design composed of faux-leather.”

Another striking realisation occurred to Vincent: he had never seen Rarity's cutie mark before. Not once. Granted, he was hardly around during what most would consider business hours and he did actively work outside of town, but what he had seen of Rarity was with her always clothed. Fashion designers were an oddity in an of themselves in a fairly clothe-less society.

“White bag with your cutie mark stamped on the side,” Rainbow dead-panned, “Got it. Now where is it?”

“On the chest of drawers, thank you,” she finished with a dazzling smile. Dash gave a warm smile in return, a cocky salute, and once again took of like a rocket.

“So, if not to the entirety of the contents of the book, then may I ask why you need Dash to fetch that particular one for this commission?” Rarity leant forward as she took a seat on a bench nect ot Vincent, her voice sweetening. “Of course, I mean not to be rude but I'm quite interested in what a potion master would be willing to sell for forty-kilos of platinum.”

Vincent reflexively rolled a shoulder, his hands tensing like tarantulas poised to strike as a bolt of pain – and extreme physical discomfort-- passed through his body. He exhaled as quietly as he could, masking his pain in his voice as easily as the mask hid his face from the world.

“Medicine. Very unique and tricky, medicine, about a year's supply.” Vincent glanced to the crate that Pinkie carried and curled his fingers under his palms. Doing that with five digits packed in a three-digited glove always drove the creases into the small webbing between his fingers. “I'm one of the few readily available to produce it, at such a bulk, and with a high enough license.” He looked up to meet Pinkie in her bright eyes. “I'd do it for free, for the little mare, but her father is so thankful and, sadly, the ingredients aren't cheap.”

“Oh no, what is wrong with her?” she said with earnest worry.

Vincent looked back ahead, forward to the railroad leading to the Canterlot. The autumn air sent a cooling chill down his spine as she was parked in the shade of the station cabin. Autumn was a good season. “I swore never to say,” he said with finality. He tensed when a hand fell softly on his shoulder, the one with the filigree embroidery on the front.

“It's wonderful that you help, Ser Vincent,” Rarity kindly said.

He eased up once more, gloved fists gently uncurling and his gaze tilting down to the letters on his lap. Perhaps he would read these once he gets to the vault. “Thank you for saying so, Rarity. Often the commission, whilst not normally as high, is still ridiculous. Gives the wrong impression to some.”

“Well if you don't want it...” Rarity began with a playful drawl, winking to Pinkie. The party pony giggled sweetly in turn. Even Vincent huffed in amusement.

“I'm afraid I've have plans for on how to spend everything he has given me for my aid; what's left over from these commissions is going into the retirement pot,” Vincent said, watching Pinkie set the crate down to use as a seat. “Pinkie?”

“S'up, Vinnie?”

He let a gloved hand roll off the armrest and face palm up as he made an offer, “Would you like to see my collection of rarer potions?” He interrupted her before she could answer, though guessing her wondrous expression he could guess the answer, “To browse, not try. I can't stress that enough, but if you find something you like the sound of... maybe I'll make a vial or two. If I deem it safe enough.”

“Totally! And don't you worry, I wont touch anything!” she replied eagerly.

At the heart of the offer was the warmth Vincent felt caused by pride. He wasn't showing off, she had been asking all the way over for what he could do, so why not show her some of his best? He'd be lying if he claimed he was being humble about it but he wasn't boasting either. He was, after all, the perfect presentation of a Solaris Knight. It was then that Twilight returned, with Rainbow Dash steadying her by hand as they came in for landing.

“Whoa!” Twilight cried as her legs buckled slightly.

“Quit stiffening your legs and landing on a slide, Twi,” Rainbow chided, though with a kind smile. “Try to land on top of your hooves first, it helps when you drop out of the air like that. A skidding halt is a bit beyond you for now.” She then walked over to Rarity and handed her the handbag and key. “Opal's still a bit moody, huh?”

“Poor things got the flu again, I hope she wasn't too much trouble,” Rarity replied with a guilty wince. Dash simply flicked her tail to the side and revealed a straight cut through the blue of her tail. Opal had hardly bothered Ser Vincent, simply keeping to the far side of the room, balled up like fashionable winter-head wear.

“It's fine.”

Vincent switched his gaze to the bag Rarity placed on the lap of her flared dress. The bag was as white as her fur coat but it was the symbol stamped on the side; she had three thumb sized blue diamonds, arching in a bottomless triangle. They only shimmered when she passed them through a beam of light that broke through the roof. He studied it for a moment, wondering how it tied to her work in fashion before Twilight stepped forward.

“Say, Vincent, you might find this interesting,” she began presenting a triangular beaker. It held a white liquid, viscosity on par with water, and the gold screw lid was an expensive touch. He wondered why it needed such a lid but she interrupted his thought. She said, “This potion allows me to see past of wherever I am, isn't that cool.”

Vincent visibly jilted in his seat, tensing and relaxing as if he had contained a explosion beneath his attire. Slowly, methodically, his gaze rose until his she saw the green of his eyes deep in the sockets of the mask. He tilted his head and stared in stunned silence for a brief, worrying second.

“... I beg your pardon?” It was all he said before he let his gaze fall to his knees. Then back to the potion. Then to his book. Then back to her. “So let me get this straight, because, quite frankly, I willing to believe you have somehow been lead to believe it actually does that.” He stopped to lean towards her, her ears perking up as she smiled down at him knowingly. “But to clarify, you are claiming that that potion alters one's brain chemistry and optical nerves in order to become attuned to, let's call it the space-time continuum, and allow a pony to observe the past of where they are?”

“Pretty much,” Dash answered with an amused grin.

“And not just that!” Twilight said with a beam. “If you drink this you can also explore the past too! Where you drink it is just the starting point. It goes back thousands of years and so--”

“A bit of sight seeing in the past whilst we're in Canterlot?” Rarity put forward before shaking her head. “Honestly, are museums simply going out of style.”

“Are you certain that what is observed is indeed historically accurate?!” Vincent's voice edged into almost demanding, the soft tone that was partially muffled by the mask was growing with a desperate hunger most intellectuals had. It surprised all the girls and the perked-eared stare he received calmed him down. “My apologies for my excitement.”

Twilight giggled before waving him off. “No, no, it's fine, I understand completely.”

“At least you're bound in wheelchair and won't go rushing off anywhere like somepony we know,” Pinkie quipped, earning a giggle from Rarity and Dash and harsh pout from Twilight.

“I mean, how do you know it isn't a hallucination?” Vincent pressed, though with subdued curiosity laced in his voice.

Princess Twilight's face fell slightly and he saw her eyes dart away, and recognised that she wasn't looking at the railroad but of something flashing before her mind's eye. “I was able to witness that fall of Princess Luna and the rise of Nightmare Moon, and when I later informed my teach-- I mean, when I conferred with Celestia about what I saw she confirmed that I was completely correct.”

“It projects the consciousness into the past?” Vincent brought a gloved hand to rub the bridge of his snout in an obvious, if not a tad dramatic and redundant, means of showing his feelings. “Of course it can.”

“Hey, if it helps I need magic to make it work,” Twilight offered helpfully, absent-mindedly polishing the glass.

“Naturally.” He then looked up to her, “Princess Twilight, may I have the recipe to experiment with?”

“Oh, well, the thing is,” Twilight began, wilting at his use of her title, “It's not safe for regular pony consumption.”

“And human?” he quickly replied, leaning forward, despite the spike of pain in his side. The knight and the mares all gave Twilight a stare of interest, though the other's piqued their brows, Rainbow Dash yawned before giving Twilight a shrug.

“Eh, it couldn't hurt, Twi.”

“Or maybe it could if it's toxic!” Twilight exclaimed. “I'm not letting my friend poison himself.”

'Friend?' It was a jarring word to come up from his new boss, halting his line of thought. He relationship with Prince Blue Blood was friendship and then business, forged through growing up with on and other in Canterlot. He'd only seen Twilight in passing when he was in Canterlot; being her guard was the most time he'd ever spent with her. And, yet, he didn't mind the term but felt it was a bit strong. Pleasing but inaccurate? Once again Vincent was left wondering where he stood with these mares. He quickly shoved the train of thought out of the way. “I can try at small doses and lower concentrations, Your Majesty.” He bowed his head. “Please. If can find what works with me then maybe I can find what works for regular pony kind based upon substitute ingredients.”

“Most ponies would still have the issue of casting the right spell,” Twilight replied, folding her arms under her bust and putting the flask under her arm. Her gaze hardened. “Besides, given your current state I don't want you testing potions.”

“I know, but I don't think you realise what you have there, Princess.” Ser Vincent didn't raise his head but gestured vaguely towards the potion in question, “It has so much potential.”

“Such as?” Rarity asked.

“Imagine how much smoother archaeological excavations would be?” came the smooth, regal voice of Prince Blue Blood as he stepped around the corner. Disdain curled his lip and scrunched his muzzle as he eyed a bench, pulling out a silk cloth from a pocket in his ivory tuxedo. He hardly looked at the group as he began to wipe the seat down, “Forensics at crime scenes would not only be better able to locate evidence but also witness the crime itself. Lost cities found and lost criminals located.”

'What the flub is he doing here?' Vincent had rarely known the prince to avoid a good spot of pampering. He was dedicated to his work and liked to enjoy the finer things, and greatly embellished grooming when he saw fit.

Prince Blue Blood placed the cloth down and then took a seat on it, planting his platinum shoed hooves on the ground. His fur was immaculate and freshly groomed and Vincent caught whiffs of vanilla in the air now. The girls were once again reserved in stance but the only indication of negative emotion was the slight narrowing of their eyes. Whatever disgust the prince once had was dismissed the moment he looked up to them, a stoic, over the nose stare looking back. Until his cold eyes fell on Vincent and turned to disapproval.

“Of course for those with the gift of foresight they wouldn't need to remember just what exactly is in that book and what he plans to do next,” Blue Blood said. He pointed and accusatory finger and scowled, “Were you not to rest?”

“Your Highness,” Vincent said with well practised merriment, “So good of you to join us.”

“Wait, what's the big deal?” Pinkie asked in confusion.

Princess Twilight looked to her personal guard and frowned, “What does he mean, Vincent?”

Ser Vincent glanced between the royal figures at first, continuing to do so even as he spoke in a placating tone, “Your Majesties, that is not the case. It is for a rare medicine, yes, and it can heal in a manner of speaking.” He then focused his gaze on the prince. “Lord Carver lost most of his daughter's medicine.” He lowered his head, his hand tightly grasping the arm rest. “She... felt tired of taking it.” He clutched the book tightly, and with leant forward.

“I am going to make more for her--” He exerted himself as he put weight on his feet, Pinkie and Rarity immediately moving to push him down.

“Vincent!” Rarity exclaimed grabbing him by the arm of his coat as Pinkie pressed down on his other shoulder. He still rose up.

“I will get it to her...” he continued, words giving out to sharp gasps. Whilst he could stand for some time it hurt; a sign of painful progress.

“Easy Vincent,” Pinkie said, carefully adding more strength and trying to coerce him back into the wheelchair.

“Oh, quit the theatrics, Vincent – if it is for Rose then you should have said. Sit. Down.” The Prince glared at the knight that all but fell into his seat. He shook his head as Ser Vincent shrugged off the concern the mares gave him. When Ser Vincent said he wasn't going to do something he thought was beyond him the prince gave a loud, bitter “ha”. He shared a frosty blue glare with the sharp malachite eyes of the human hidden under the mask.

He was then approached by Princess Twilight and she took a seat beside him, her tail curling onto her bare lap.

“So, I guess you'll be joining us on our trip to Canterlot then,” she began with an uneasy tone. Her attempt at a small smile was welcome.

He huffed and folded his arms. “Fret not, I wont be a source of aggravation if that is is what you are worried about.” He looked past her, to Vincent. “It is him you need to keep track off.”

“What do you think he's going to do? Should I be concerned?”

He glanced at the flask in her hand and then met her amethyst eyes. One thing the Prince had learnt to become good at was reading ponies; whilst Ser Vincent, when serving the prince, had commented how expressive ponies were, it was hardly something that helped Blue Blood. Most of what humans saw seemed to be lost on any pony. It was a refreshing change to not look at the pony opposite him in search of features that betrayed lies or poorly covered half-truths. He found her large amethyst eyes full of concern and that they were pointed at his best friend. He beckoned for her to lean in.

“You just have to make sure he never picks up any zander root,” Blue Blood whispered to her, “Keep some pony with him at all times. Especially in the vault and the in patch of the royal gardens.”

“Zander root?” Twilight replied as equally quiet. “Why? What's so special about that book?”

Blue Blood chewed his lip, glancing back at Vincent, who was getting chewed out by the remaining mares. Or at least by the pink one and the one that pretended to have class; Miss Dash was grinning and keeping her weight on his good shoulder.

“That book has some very beneficial potions in there, some that have extreme effects upon the equine body. And especially on a human body. Dangerous too.” He looked to Twilight, catching her scent. “They are all working but... some are purely theoretical.”

Twilight blinked quickly stealing a peak towards Vincent before leaning back into the whispered chat. “He's going to use never before tested potions?!” she hissed.

“No. No,” Blue Blood reassured, “They've been tested and found to work very well. I'd stand by his decision to use anything in that book, and so would you if you knew him better. I trust his judgement when he uses it for others but...” He trailed off with a hand roll.

“...But you don't trust him to use things on himself,” she finished.

“That's the thing with Vincent,” Blue Blood added with a sad smile, “He'll think only of others. He is obsessed with whether or not he could that he doesn't stop to realise if he should.” He then glanced to the potion, the remembrance potion as it were. “One day, I'm... I'm worried that all that will remain of Vincent is his story and our memories of him. Of him coming home beaten, bloodied, and broken.”

His ears fell to the side of his head, his brushed tail dragging onto the dirtied station floor. “One day my last memory of Vincent might be of his corpse, if he hadn't died by any means that required a closed casket.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, returning to his mask of stoicism. “Everypony will remember Ser Vincent Costello of the Solaris Knights, Vincent the Nopony, but only myself and a handful will remember Vincent.”

Chapter Four, In Which There Are Potions And A Past

Author's Notes:

My deepest apologies for how long is has taken for this story to update, there is not enough words to convey that. I would recommend re-reading the story given the amount of dust it had collected whilst I was, and still am, busy with real life stuff.

Thank you to those that still wish to read this.

Ser Vincent found the train journey to be somewhat taxing on his healing wounds; the sway of the train as it glided around corners, even with ease, put pressure on his hips. Any attempt to combat the sensation resulted in straining his injured side – no amount of medication as helping.

The pain was chronic but the trip was with positive company. He’d been cornered and surrounded by Rarity, Pinkie, and Rainbow for the trip. It was by the entrance where the wheelchair could fit on-board and he faced all three mares, visually directing his attention with a turn of his masked stare. Other than that he was statuesque as ever.

It was strange. At “worst” the prince would tolerate a private booth when a carriage could not be taken for his personal use, resulting in Ser Vincent taking the aisle seat by the door for security. Yet, there he had been, boxed in wheels that were locked in place and three mares, one with his payment on her pink laps, one fast enough to outpace cannonballs, and another who could wheel him back in place with but a thought.

It had also been strange because Blue Blood and Princess Twilight sat at the furthest end of the carriage. They had talked, Twilight shooting what she must have assumed were secret glances his way, indicating that Vincent was the topic of discussion. And given Blue Blood only stared directly at her by his side, never letting his gaze wonder as a normal pony might, it had only served to cement Vincent’s assumption.

’She has her ears wilted and her hands are rubbing against each other. What are you telling Her Majesty about me, Blue Blood? Spilling secrets are we?’

Vincent had clenched the black book tighter in both hands as it rested in his lap for the entire journey. His fingers felt like tarantula legs struck with rigor mortis when he unfurled them as they disembarked the train at Canterlot Station.

Canterlot was his true home. The station was outside the main city where a towering wall of alabaster spanned it entirely. It had gilded features surrounding the main gate, the moat as it were being the river that fell flowed from the mountain high. The station as busy, many a pony leaving and embarking one of the many trains currently stationed. Many here were wore their status and displays of wealth through means of fine suits or dresses, even the casual typical clothe-less ponies sported noble grace or at least a monocle.

He was pushed out of the train and many saw him. They reacted as they should; gentlestallions gawked at the appearance of Ser Vincent with some of the elements in tow, many upstanding mares went doe-eyed at the sight of the prince. Home was where the ponies respected Vincent, or at the least feared him. It was… safe like that.

He had some control of that balance and that had respect heavily outweighing the fear, but there was just that pinch for ponies to know never to cross him. He was a good knight, he internalised all of what a knight was supposed to be and carried the title with pride. His achievements were open to those who chose to look and he never pushed them onto others. If they wanted to know what he was capable of then they needed only ask somepony.

And yet, as, perhaps for the first time in years Ser Vincent was wheeled out like a crippled recruit that flunked basic training. He could hardly move in his seat, and at best he could fall back on directing his stoic, masked stare to a pony that stared back too long. But it was there, in those ever over expressive eyes.

Ser Vincent Costello, of the Solaris Knights, The Nopony… was as breakable as anypony else.

Vincent had never had delusions of invincibility but he crafted his image meticulously, especially for his home in Canterlot where image was everything. Ponies saw the hood and green long coat, the mask, and gloves, but hardly any bruised skin or pain-grimaced face. His clothing was scratched or cut, his mask chipped and cracked, but he wasn’t ever seen as broken. His was an image without being crippled… without being seen weak ever again.

But a job needed to be done.

“So what now?” Rainbow asked she pushed him along the street, towards the walled city centre. Rarity walked beside her and Pinkie still carried the crate of platinum.

“I, for one, would like to deposit my savings,” Vincent began with a soft tone, seething under the stares of passers-by. He voice wouldn’t betray him. “Then I need to set my equipment up to produce the potion and then I’ll be retiring to my home until morning.”

“It will be an overnight affair?” Rarity said with concern, “Oh, but I’ve only brought this and my bag.”

“Have you forgotten that you no longer live here?” Blue Blood asked the knight. Vincent couldn’t look back but knew the royals were following him, but even that was a distant thought as a realisation finally set in.

Canterlot wasn’t home anymore.

He slumped into his chair, his gloved hands sliding off the arm rests onto his lap. The weight of this revelation lowered his gaze to the passing cobblestone his chair rolled over. It wasn’t a surprising thought, simply a heavy one; it was a ramification that hadn’t settled when he had moved out of the palace, his mind being elsewhere. He had moved into a new house but hadn’t called it home, truly home. The seasons had changed and yet it only hit him then. His heart was always for Canterlot, even if he had no place in it.

But like the train hitting the end of the line, slowing to a crawl, it finally dawned on him as he returned. Ser Vincent was only stationed in Ponyville whilst Nopony had been booted out of Canterlot -- where did Vincent Costello live now?

“R-right, of course,” Vincent said. He cleared his throat. “Very well, I’ll find myself some lodging for the night.”

“I’ll see to accommodations for the evening,” the prince said, “Though I can’t grant you your old sleeping quarters. Will you ladies be staying? I’ll have rooms sorted without hassle.”

“Wow, really?” Pinkie asked.

“Oh yes,” Blue Blood replied coolly, that air of high nobility seeping into his tone. “I just need to know who is staying. I’ll have the castle staff provide rooms fit for present company.”

“The palace?” Rarity murmured apprehensively. Had she been a bit further away Vincent doubted that he would have heard her. “I am severely under-dressed for this,” she whined.

“You look as radiant as ever, Rarity,” Vincent said looking up to her, his words genuinely warm. She looked back as he continued. “I’m yet to see you in anything less than stunning. You’ll be a welcome addition to the palace.”

With a warm smile she replied, “Why thank you, Vinnie.”

He didn’t think it needed to be said but perhaps she was as every bit as image conscious in regards to fashion as he was to being seen as knight. It made sense. As mares go it was no secret that Rarity was immensely attractive, and her class and cultured mind only multiplied that aspect. ‘Perhaps I should have informed her of how the day was to pan out. Maybe that would have dissuaded her from joining.’

He felt Rainbow lean down, putting her muzzle close to where his ear would be under the hood. “Smooth like crunchy peanut butter, huh, Vinnie?” She snickered as she pulled back, Vincent gritting his teeth and turning her way slightly.

“Then I guess we should split up,” Twilight recommended. “Blue Blood and I—“

“Prince Blue Blood.”

Even though Vincent couldn’t see her, he imagined a strained smile on Princess Twilight’s face. “Yes, my apologies. We’re going to speak to Princess Celestia about staying the night, meet you at the palace gates?”

With a general agreement the party split up, the royals heading to the castle, the girls and the knight heading to the most secure bank in Equestria. However, Twilight asked to speak with Rarity first.

“Go on ahead, this won’t take long,” Twilight said. Then Vincent was ushered up the road by Rainbow, out of earshot.

It wasn’t long before the group had reconvened and so Vincent had guided Rarity, Pinkie, and Dash towards the bank. It had been an uphill struggle, literally; The Royal Equestrian Security Cavern was much grander than its name would suggest as it had come a long, long way since when it was first a guarded hoard in cave millenniums ago.

As it had been then and still was now, the bank was the most secured place in Equestria, second to the palace. There had been expansion and burrowing further into the mountain, leaving the front building a large grand affair; white marble matching the Canterlot stone made pillars and arches over the front of the entrance, the sturdy walls were punctured by windows, and whatever gold was not adorned to the walls as tribute to Her Majesty belonged to the tens of guards adorned in heavy armour and arms.

Trees lined the road leading up to the entrance, the greenery of the gardens on either side putting Vincent’s coat to shame. Then again, his coat was better suited for merging into natural undergrowth as opposed to the pampered flora here. The girls had marvelled, Rarity switching with Rainbow on pushing duties. She tried to spread her wings but Vincent warned her about the no flying rules in place. She had argued a case but Vincent merely shrugged and told her she’d be speaking to the guards instead of him if she tried anything.

They approached the tall guard doors and all Vincent had to do was lower his sleeve and reveal his coppery bracer. A flash of the Solaris Knight insignia and he and the girls were allowed in.

The air within the entrance rotunda was heavy with bureaucracy, from the clatter of fingers at typewriters to the rich scent of wooden desks. It was warm and that would be without Vincent armour and clothing. Ornate chandeliers hung from the tall corridors that branched out from the centre, deeper into the mountain. What little natural light was allowed in fell to halfway into the room, at the centre round desk.

Whilst many worked at desks in neat little alcove, dressed in fine business attire, the unicorn at the front desk was signing several letters or notes with quills suspended in emerald magic. Her three-digited hand flicked through a ledger, her eyes looking down through small reading glasses at the end of her muzzle. She was a petite thing and had worked here long before Vincent’s parents entered Equestria years ago.

“A busy day at the office?” Vincent began cordially as he was pushed to the front. The desk came to his shoulders as he sat in the wheel chair. He presented his Solaris knight’s insignia on his bracer for identification.

Her ear twitched and smile graced her muzzle, several quills bring set neatly down. She looked his way, a jovial reply dying in her mouth as soon as she saw him. “Oh my, I might ask you the same thing, Ser Vincent.” Her ears shot up in response to many others behind her looked towards him, seeing him… weakened.

She cleared her throat, glancing between the former Elements of Harmony. “I don’t suppose you’ll be making the, ah, final withdraw as it were?”

“He ain’t dying,” Rainbow was quick to say from his side. Vincent saw her fold her arms and shift her weight to one side.

“No, no, I’m not retiring just yet, Mrs Record,” Ser Vincent amended, adding a practiced warm chuckle. He waved her off and felt his ribs bite. His fingers curled as they fell back onto the armrest. “A simple set back involving a tatzlwurm. I’ll be fine after a night’s sleep.”

“Perhaps a few more than one night, dear.” Rarity tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re under watch now.”

Vincent didn’t answer and kept his masked gaze on the desk clerk.

“I’ll be making a deposit as per usual,” was all he said before he rolled his chair around the side. Rarity was quick to take such duties from him and he guided them towards the mouth of a tall corridor.

“How much today?” Mrs Record asked whilst returning to her busy job. He’d done this long enough to know she wasn’t looking back.

“Forty kilos.”

He heard a quill drop from a nearby work station but paid it no mind. There were only thirty vaults located in this bank – ponies that used this banks services were directed to another branch inside the city itself. This place was reserved for those with… unique items to say the least.

It was more of a heavy storage facility for expensive and rare artifacts than a bank, but since its roots started out as a treasury with Fort Canterlot standing guard then it wasn’t long before money and bullions found lodgings here as well. As the castle became home to noble families, as a city grew around it, ponies needed a place to store their wealth as did Princess Celestia when she turned the city into the capital of the country.

Ser Vincent Costello was only permitted a place due to his friendship with the prince. It was difficult storing much of his rarer materials, books or ingredients, as well as potions with long shelf life, in his modest sized room. The one he had already had to turn half off into an alchemy lab. Though his newer residence was just as well suited for the task it would be a monumental effort to relocated everything from the vault.

It also held another two pieces of great significance to him, besides his distant future plans.

“Whoa!” Pinkie gawked at the large square door. It was polished steel, thicker than the length of her leg. Well, it seemed more like a sheet of metal; if not for the hand print in the centre then it would appear to be an exposed part of the structure built into the mountain.

Rainbow approached the vault, reaching out for the alien hand print. It was for a hand with five digits. She placed her furred hand on the indentation, fingers spread apart. She chuckled at the sight of the two slim fingers that jutted out where hers left gaps. She glanced back, flicking her rainbow mane out of her face. “It’s easy to forget sometimes, I’ll give you that, Vinnie.”

A deep blare scared her, the alarm a rumbling call that came and went. She snatched her hand back, looking to the vault door to see runic lines darting out, taking sharp ninety-degree turns to here and there in thick, red magic.

“It’s easier not to think, me thinks as well.” Vincent chuckled alongside Rarity and Pinkie at her scowl-slash-pout.

“I’ll have it open.” He pulled back his sleeve, unclasped his bracer, and removed his glove, handing them to Rainbow to hold. “Don’t lose them, please.” He felt the coarse fur of her hand against his bare palm and nearly recoiled. The air was relatively cool against his exposed fingers but that was probably due to wearing as much as he did.

“Now for the hard part—“ he said as he tried to rise out of his seat. He was cut off by Rarity pushing him closer to the door.

“Now, now, let us not make more work for ourselves,” she berated as she drew close to the door, close enough for him to reach out and enter his hand.

‘I see that Fluttershy never left us.’ Vincent wasn’t sure what the commonly acceptable level of bitterness to his current predicament was acceptable but he would argue to the death that he hadn’t come close yet. No matter what anypony would say.

Upon entering his hand print the wall lit up green, the runic lines centralising to pulse the name “Ser Vincent Costello” in neon green before the magic faded. Then metal ground against metal as the wall slid to the left, disappearing into the wall.

Inside on either side were stacked shelves, rows upon rows with potions seemingly disappearing into the wall. They were sectioned off in their separate alcoves, with a desk at the bottom of each, books stacked neatly upon them. Beyond, past the trophy potions were various chemistry instruments and refrigerating devices. Held deep within were particularly rarer ingredients that could be preserved for a very special day. And, yet, despite the walls of potions and magic, the girl’s eyes fell upon what lay in the centre.

“Cool,” Pinkie remarked as she lugged the crate of platinum into the long room.

“Is that…” Rarity began as she focused on the middle of the hall.

“Aye, it’s my official armour,” Vincent replied he was pushed towards the tall glass cabinet.

“Now that’s how I imagined a knight to look,” Dash remarked.

I t was a plated suit of tall armour, polished sheets of sparkling silver and steel grey intertwining into a juggernaut’s shell. The silver highlights trimmed the shoulder pauldrens and elbows, engraved with load-lightening runes. Though the girls had never seen Solaris knight’s suit of armour, they could guess what changes had been made, mainly in the helmet; the metal curved around neatly enough but the visor was reminiscent of a ship’s bow, the narrow slit between the silver fringe piece and the visor ringed with vent holes.

The boots and gauntlets were missing and an indentation in the centre of the torso was signs of displaced coin of sorts. It was hard not to notice the last one in particular as it was surrounded by a golden depiction of a blazing sun.

“So I take it that this is formal wear?” Rarity quipped as she pushed him closer.

“It’s a comfort thing,” Vincent admitted, “For my combat style I prefer to be a tad more nimble though there are times I’ve had to don this set.” He regarded it with a slight tilt of the head, his shadowed gaze looking at the hallowed helmet. “It has drawback in exchange for the benefits; can’t carry nearly as many potions for one thing.” He looked back to Rarity. “I need you to take me around to the far wall, please.” He tightened his grip on the locked book.

“Certainly,” she replied, still eyeing the armour as she pushed him around.

“You got quite a lot of stuff in here, Vinnie,” Rainbow commented, taking to the air and flying her way to a study a few top shelves.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything on the top shelves,” Vincent curtly commanded. It made her flinch and wobble in the air for a moment.

“Sheesh, alright.” She landed on her hooves following Pinkie as she merrily walked past, the box of platinum in her hands. “

“So are these, like, your best potions?” Pinkie glanced around as she followed Vincent and Rarity.

“Indeed, to your right are potions that have had their recipes edited to suit a human body,” Vincent explained with a gesture of the hand from his good side. “Rather toxic for you. To my left, however, maybe a few to your liking.” His voice shifted to a sterner tone, “Look but do not touch. If you have any interests maybe I’ll brew something at a later date.”

“Cool!” Pinkie exclaimed.

“But first, Pinkie, set my payment down with the rest over there, if you’d be so kind.” Ser Vincent gestured towards the stacks of small crates, each branded by Vincent’s contractor. Five high and three across. “And then you can both browse as you see fit,” he concluded.

He heard her quickly set the wooden crate in front of the rest, saw her shake her arms before zipping over to the potion selection. “There should be a clipboard that lists what’s present, please refer to that, you two,” he called over his shoulder.

“Found it,” Rainbow said.

“So do I keep going to the wall or am I missing something?” Rarity asked whilst still pushing him towards the far wall. They came upon three dark freezer chests, gently humming in a line upon the back wall. Vincent gestured to his right, at a stack of briefcases.

“Since you’re so keen on my assistance, could you put me by the freezer on the left? Whilst I’m rooting through for ingredients could you get me the third briefcase on the right?” he asked politely, warming his tone. Though skeptical at first she obliged. Whilst her back was turned he quickly reached for the space between the freezers. He felt healed sinew and muscle protest as he snagged a small metal key, a sharp exhale rapidly evolving into heaving breathes.

“Vincent are you alright?” Rarity asked as she set the metal briefcase beside his chair.

His body froze but he felt the strain of his face grimacing, teeth grinding as he held his breath. He desperately tried not to grasp the arm rest, in fear of exposure and in crushing it. A spark lit inside him, a familiar primal flare of magic that he tried to snuff. He closed his eyes to prevent any visual cues from exposing his pain.

Even after years of practice in disguising his voice, it was strain to keep a calm warm tone. “I’m fine, just needed to stand up for a moment.”

“Not happening,” she sternly chided, lifting the lid on the freezer herself. Wafts of icy fog spilled out of the chest as she stood with her hands on her hips, tail lashing. “Most of this looks labelled so tell me what you need.” She bent over to reach into the freezer.

“Xander root for starters, should be—“

“I’m sorry, Ser Knight, but…” Rarity bit her lip and glanced back to Vincent, “Apparently, for what you need to do, you won’t need it. Or so Twilight told me. That you would have other uses for that.”

Vincent didn’t say anything. He simply let the quiet sound of his leather gloves rubbing into the plastic arm as he gripped it fiercely speak for him.

“I see. His Majesty has you on watch.” He lowered his masked gaze to her hooves, a dejected sigh escaping him. The direct approach wouldn’t work. He snapped his attention up to her, looking right into those kind sapphire eyes. “What I need is solution Diate’s solution three, two bottles of red-naz four. The Diate’s solution is purple and in a small jar as long as your finger, the red-naz is a dark red, in a similar sized bottle. Both will have labels. Remember, Diate’s solution three and red-naz four.”

“Ooookay,” Rarity said slowly. He heard bottled being moved about, the clatter of glass on glass making him grimace. “You know, I may have just learnt what my clients feel like when I discuss the distinction between the names of colours.” He threw out a rehearsed chuckle as he turned the key on the lock of his little black book.

“And this is where you’ll be staying,” Prince Blue Blood said, opening the door to where Princess Twilight would be staying the night. “Forgive the sub-standard setting but based upon how you described the experience of that potion, I felt a more spacious arrangement might be fitting for you.”

If sub-standard meant one of the many luxury rooms befitting guests from diplomats to high ranking officers, then she couldn’t comprehend just what would be up-to-snuff for the prince. It was a queen sized bed, four poster, with elegant red curtains, matching the scarlet rug at the foot that stretched over to the self-grooming station. The air was rich, and the displays of wealth came from the finely stocked make up selection and the gilded lounging couch by the Prench doors to the marble balcony. It was quite spacious in the middle, but the walls were donned with fine paintings of days of yore, a tall mirror between the grooming station and what she knew was a walk in wardrobe.

“Oh, well, we did arrive on short notice,” Twilight remarked with a rueful grin. It grew as Blue Bloods brow fell.

“A princess should not have to settle for less than stellar,” he replied and closed the door behind her.

“You know,” she began with a raised brow, taking a seat upon the bed and crossing her hooves, “Princess Celestia’s room isn’t nearly as big, nor is jam-packed with paintings or ornate wall lamps.” She idly let her eyes glance to the ceiling, doing a double take. “Is that a chandelier?”

His ears twitched. “Is that so?” Blue Blood remarked as he adjusted the tie of his white suit. “I assume, then, that she had all the availability of furnishings at her disposal, after-all her room does also feature an ensuite bathing room, office, and “living” area to best describe it.”

“It’s not the same thing, not at all!” Twilight countered, folding her arms beneath her bust as he sauntered to the opposing wall. His smug smirk was not nearly as grating as the way he used his hand to comb his golden locks to the side.

“Point is royalty befits royal treatment.” The prince folded his arms and rested against the wall, arm blue eyes meeting hers. “The title does come with perks; I’m amazed that you’re so opposed to them. It’s actually rather charming in a way,” he added with a tilt of the head.

Her tail lashed as she set the potion beside her. “It’s not my style. I’d rather be approachable so anypony with problems wouldn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated.”

He raised a regal brow, his ears fluttering in an unseen wind, as if he’d lost control of them in a storm of emotion. It struck her as odd – his icy, cold stare almost warmed, like a sunny winter day. But whatever kindling she sparked was snuffed by an ever stoic mask. “And do I intimidate?” he asked with a devilish grin.

She snorted at the notion, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, Blueykins, you sure put Nightmare Moon to shame.” Twilight had seen Rarity pale enough to know it was possible to be whiter than white, which made the look of horror on the prince’s face all the more delightful.

He snorted in a rather undignified manner and his tail whipped into the wall. “Curse that name. Only Lady Emily may call me that!”

“See. You can try and look tough but one blemish and you crumble,” Twilight replied. She fingered the cork in the potion and eyed the Canterlot horizon through the Prench doors. A silence filled the air.

“You’re right,” Blue Blood said to her surprise, “We all must look the part we are to play. A beacon of hope or… a gilded dispenser of the royal treasury.”

She looked up to him and found him staring back, intensely. It is often debated in hushed whispers away from the royal court as to the authenticity of the Blue Blood line and its ties to Celestia. Twilight believed in her former tutor and took her word on issue that he was, indeed, her great (times by few) great nephew.

Yet, when she saw that warm, sad smile… the same Celeista once had in those days she remembered Luna dearly in front of Twilight… her opinion changed. In those sky blue eyes were many days of winter by the hearth, of warm kindness in the cold. It was fleeting but… she believed he was a descendant of Celestia.

“I guess it all comes down to the company one is expected to keep,” he added before looking out the window with knitted brows.

“Blue Blood, I didn’t—“

“Well, let’s do a little test to prove yourself to me,” he interrupted, as if she hadn’t said anything at all. “Eight years ago, tell me in detail what happened down the hall eight years ago.” He folded his arms and his expression shifted to house a cocky grin and a skeptical quirk of the brow. “I’ll ensure you’re not disturbed.

She agreed and it wasn’t long before she regretted doing so. She drank the potion and the world shook in her head. Her reality phased out and was replaced with everything that was before, the world of eight years ago now before her.

‘It’s a lot more purple than what I imagined it would be’.Her thoughts on her remodelled room, or possibly yet-to-be remodelled room, were that it was better in the past. Purple curtains on her bed post, lavender carpet, lilac book shelf with ample reading material—whose idea was it to change all that?

She stepped out into the hallway but yelled in surprised as guard charged through her. “Sorry!” Her reflexive apology fell on deaf ears and she remembered that she had no influence on the past what so ever. Which was waaaaaaay better than the last time she messed with time.

“Don’t you dare hurt him!”

“Let go!”

“Calm down!”

“Blue Blood?” Twilight whispered to herself. She followed the guard, her suspicion on what Present Blue Blood wanted confirmed when she reached the end. The guard she had followed was unicorn with a grey coat and was standing between the young (and admittedly cute) teenage prince and a prisoner.

“Release me!” the prisoner roared, slinging his weight and strength into his shoulder. The earth pony guard on that arm stumbled, his grip loosening. It was enough for the worn, beaten, and blooded captive to swing his hand free, ball it into a fist and sloppily thump the guard on his other arm in the muzzle. That dropped the guard and busted his snout but the guard he’d shook off momentarily seized him once more, drawing the prisoner’s ire.

“Vincent?” Twilight cupped her hand over her mouth and simply stared in shock at the state the young human was in.

He had remnants of a tuxedo draped on him, torn and shredded, the white dress shirt stained red in places. Those stains were horribly large. Soil and stone dust had been beaten into the suit, his exposed, bloodied elbows and shins, and sparkles of pink were in his shoulder length hair. He had his back to her and she could see the exposed gash in the small of his back where he had paled to near white. A red wound oozed crimson and… tar?

Black roots pulsed under his skin, a network of thin lines surfacing near the cut. Twice she’d seen a sight of brutality with this potion.

“Vincent what happened to you?” she asked, more to herself. But he turned his head as if he’d heard her. And the vision got worse.

He seemed almost feral; a furious sneer bared his red-stained teeth, his nose was scratched and weeping scarlet, and his cheek had a deep incision. That was what she could see through the long, stone-grey hair. There were small patches of brown, like islands of earth in a desert of stone and pink shards.

“You should run,” he growled in a sinister voice she only heard in partial from the knight in the present. It set her on edge as she felt the hatred in his words spill out towards the guard that held him firm. She saw his tail tuck before Vincent tried to head-butt him.

She could only stare as he continued to fight whilst restrained and with an obviously broken arm, her heart in her throat as he glared back once more. There was a lot of hatred in those eyes. She could see it: in the purple wisps of toxic smoke, further polluted by a green acidic ting, in the solid red pupils that glared back through her. There was an intensity matching a certain old tyrant of the Crystal Empire.

She saw Vincent filled with pure, unadulterated hatred and barely standing.

“Please stop it, Vincent!” Blue Blood cried, breaking past the guard and passing through her. His ivory furred hands were bloodied.

She looked to Vincent as he once again escaped his guard grasp and his eyes fell on Blue Blood as he tried to rest a hand him. A calming gesture easily misconstrued for someone in Vincent’s state.

“No! Blue Blood!” Twilight screamed, impulsively reach for the young prince. It wouldn’t matter because Vincent still lunged at the prince.

Her world was mostly white, cornered by scarlet. She held onto the white fuzz of warmth before her as the world shifted back to the present, and the walls were redecorated. After a few blinks she found that she was pressing herself against the chest of the older Blue Blood. Her cheeks burned whilst he simply looked back with glazed eyes.

She pushed herself away, keeping her arms on the lapels of his blazer. Her ears were flat and her wings fluttered. She gasped as he raised a hand and gently lay it onto her fore arm. Their eyes met and he gave her a sad smile.

“I feel as if I know what part you were up to, but please, you first,” was all he said with melancholy in his words.

“Vincent was… he had…” She gestured around her eyes. It didn’t help the words form in her mouth. She huffed and then rested a hand beneath her horn. “Vincent looked like he’d lost a fight with an Ursa Major! What happened? Why were his eyes all evil and hate filled?”

“One bad day,” Blue Blood simply said. All he needed was a shrug given how easy he gave the answer. “A very defining day. The next would be, oh, three years later? Five years ago?” Then he shrugged. “Either way, I know it works…So!” He clapped his hands together as Twilight backed up onto the bed, her mouth agape. “Perhaps you could stroll through early Canterlot? Find my great-to the ninth- grand papa, Iron Blood. He was merchant, would you believe, but he rose through the poor house before that and—“

“No!” Twilight said, standing up and prodding him in the chest. “What was that about?”

Blue Blood was not fazed. His icy stare returned, devoid of emotion. “A matter for you and your knight to discuss. Now then. Where will you go next?”

“Prince Blue Blood you can’t—“

“It saved him, you know.” Blue Blood added, glancing down to his hooves. His folded arms fell to his side as he released a sigh. “I had nightmares of my best friend tearing my throat out with those teeth. You know, for a human, his canines are abnormally sharp, though nothing on par with a dogs for certain. But when a mouth like that snaps at you, one simply forgets it’s your friend doing it.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. “He got my cheek but magic was on hand that prevent it from scarring. He heard my shriek-- yes, it was a shriek of a stallion that’s hardly known combat and was frightened—and it ended his onslaught. They dragged him away but I finally got to see those regret filled green eyes at the end of the night. He came back.”

He opened his eyes and Twilight was speechless.

He continued with his stare level with hers, “If you have issue ask Vincent. I’ve shown enough through a fault with my hubris. So let’s change the subject and time period. Your choice, Princess Twilight.”

Maybe he was right. She could deal with it later. All she had to do was keep it out of her mind whilst the potion lasted. To try and forget the sight of horrifying hatred.

Easy.