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.”