The Blue Knight

by The_Darker_Fonts

Chapter 4: Gallery

Blueblood wasn’t much of an art enthusiast. He enjoyed art and appreciated the time and skill put into the pieces, and was even impressed by the magnitude of some pieces, but he never considered it one of his favored things. Still, he needed to make a public showing, and since strong-arm tactics were considerably looked down upon by the upper crust, he came to the convenient gallery.

There were several dozen pieces, but the one he was most focused on was labeled “The Accords of Peace''. It depicted one of the more commonly painted histories, the moment when the pegasi, earth ponies, and unicorns all united to defeat the windigo storm. Of course the moment was highly dramaticized, the pegasi breaking through the clouds to golden rays of sunlight, unicorns lighting their horns as an earth pony mare planted the new flag of Equestria in a mound of fresh vibrant grass. Windigos seemed to scream silently as the action was completed, the sight of the flapping banner a falling blade to end their terror.

There was an abundance of paintings, engravings, and sculpture miniatures depicting this exact scene from history, but for some reason, this was the most commonly praised, and most recent. The painter, their name forgotten to Blueblood, had only died a few years prior to Blueblood’s birth. Whether that meant that Blueblood was becoming old or that this painting was young by comparison, he didn’t know. It was humbling to think though, that he already would be graying, when his Aunts would still look to be no older than thirty. Of course, if he told Luna to her face she looked thirty, then he might not live to be old.

Instead of smiling to himself, he scowled at the image, turning abruptly as if it had somehow offended him. As he “marched” off, he saw several of the nearby ponies whispering to each other, glancing in his direction. Ah yes, of course this appearance would make the rumor wheels turn, spinning a new web of skeptic intrigue. After all, how dare he make a public appearance after raping a mare only last night?

He gave the muttering group of mares his cockiest, most hateable smile, making all three turn from him in disgust at once. Of course he hadn’t actually raped the girl, merely had slipped something in her glass and had her wake up in his bed, with him gone away. He didn’t actually know the mare, just somepony who he’d accidentalied his way into a conversation with. Opportunity abounds with such situations, having been seen publicly together before the matter, and he knew that he could take the situation for the greatest benefit it could provide.

Still, he felt terrible each time he did it, knowing how much it startled the mares, and Celestia herself had even told him to stop with the fake rapes, as she couldn’t spend the resources both covering up the truth and hiding the fake rapes. But Blueblood knew that the best way to keep the rumor wheels fed was to give them string, and better his own than Celestia’s, or Moon forbid Luna’s.

Besides, the Blue Knight was a symbol of justice, and only two nights ago had he saved an anonymous mare from a rape. He wouldn’t even think to commit the terrible deed. And he didn’t, Blueblood thought privately. He just thinks of how to fake a real one.

Exiting the regal auditorium, he walked head high across the paved cobble of Upper Canterlot, in the Artisan’s Square. It was one of the highest, and frankly stupidest, areas of Canterlot, both literally and commercially. From this upper portion of the city, the rooftops of the Royal Castle were visible from most angles, allowing anypony who cared to look to see the marvelous design of the shingles atop.

It was interesting to think that the roofer, or rather, roofers, of the castle went into the time to create a spectacular pattern of differently shaded pink and purple. The pattern formed a sort of shaded mark, a center of pink on each spire shaded down to purple eventually. On the main roof, there was a sort of tar shape that followed the same form, shading to lavender to finish. It may have seemed simplistic, but to consider that only passing pegasi and rare viewers from the snobs would be the only sightseers, it was touching to know that the builders put so much effort in for their Princesses.

His attention to the roof fell as he suddenly found himself snout-to-snout with a very angry looking mare. She had a fiery red mane with orange highlights, her coat a slightly orange tinted red, small red wings marking her as pegasi. Her eyes were practically non-existent, slits so thin he barely glimpsed the gemstone purple pupils of her eyes. Her teeth audibly creaked from how much force she was putting into them, a fierce set to her jaw betraying cruel intentions. Blueblood raised his eyebrows, visibly making sure she saw the way he eyed her quite diminutive size.

The mare was a young one, perhaps not even more than twenty, seeing how small she was, but Blueblood could already guess the reason she was here either way. His prediction was proven to be right a moment later when she growled a question.

“Did you rape my sister?”

Giving her his douchiest smile possible, he redirected, “I mean, she woke up in my bed, hot and heavy after one too many glasses of wine. What’s a stallion to do when a perfect little mare falls asleep on his lap?”

“Not whatever you did to my sister,” she yelled angrily, catching the few eyes in the street that weren’t already on their spectacle. Blueblood hid his false amusement with false panic, looking around the street with widened eyes to give the impression that he didn’t like the attention he was receiving. Among the elite, this action was condemning, and that was precisely why he said what he did next.

“Look, if you want what your sister got, come to the palace after five tonight,” he muttered, leaning in closer, as if oblivious to the true intention of the mare’s words. He gave the shocked mare’s face a presumably cheeky look and added, “Your sister was good. Maybe you could do better though?”

Those words had barely left his mouth when they were filled with something else: a flying hoof.

Blueblood nearly flew across the block a few spans before landing on the cobble, a rough thud sounding from his hard impact. There wasn’t any pain for a moment, only brief amusement, and slight admiration for the strength of the blow. He mentally tried to calculate how much force had gone into the punch from the half-pint mare, but the pain from the hit kicked in.

Briefly, he clamped his jaw to see if any of his teeth were cracked, but amazingly, they were all still intact. Hurting like hay, but intact. Catching himself before he braced through the pain like he would during his night shifts, he forced tears and began wailing like a kicked foal. Well, technically, he was right now.

The mare huffed loudly, turning sharply and walking away from the pitiful stallion.

“Wait a minute,” he shrieked after her, still sobbing. “She can’t do that to me! I’m the prince! Somepony arrest that scum!”

The mare turned sharply, rushing back towards him speedily, an angered and determined set in her jaw betelling nothing good. Blueblood began to shuffle backwards across the ground, half acting, half actually concerned how badly the mare might hurt him before he had to intervene. Luckily, another white unicorn stallion stepped in, this one also with a golden mane with crème highlights. He was a bit older than himself, about forty, if he had to guess, with tired eyes and a slightly wrinkled suit. An older, more honest Blueblood, perhaps, if it were possible.

The stallion stood in the path of the mare, simultaneously facing both of them with a strategic angling of the head. The bitter mare glared at the intruding stallion, but a heavy set to his eyebrows and steady, strong stance he had made it clear he wasn’t being moved. Nevertheless, the mare demanded, “Get outta my way! You know what he did to my sister, to other ponies’ sisters?”

“I know what the poor fool’s done,” he responded calmly. “But violence answers nothing for you. The best that will come from it is a long imprisonment for crippling the Prince, and a temporary stopping to his misdeeds. You’re lucky none of us saw that first hit, right,” he asked conspiratorially, glancing around the plaza at the other ponies in the area. “All we know is that the stupid stallion kicked his own hoof, and when this generous mare attempted to help, it was too late, and he whacked his own face, yes?”

Several of the ponies standing around nodded in agreement or muttered their consent with the story. Many Canterlot inhabitants would gladly turn a blind eye to the striking of the city’s number one spoiled scamp, and surely a great majority in the upper crust and upper middle class. Blueblood smiled internally. All of his effort was paying off, it seemed.

Outwardly, however, Prince Blueblood gawked at the scene of so many ponies, ponies like him, dismissing a direct physical assault. He stumbled with his mouth to say something, anything to make his situation worse, but the wise stallion who’d prevented his day from becoming more painful pushed his hoof against Prince Blueblood’s mouth.

“Your Highness,” he whispered, looking around, “I wouldn’t say anything more. The situation is bad enough for you as it is.”

“H-h-h-how dare you,” he yelled at the crowd, standing up slowly. “You can’t do this to me! I’m a Prince, you imbeciles! I’ll have you all arrested for the rest of your lives for this treachery! You shame the nobles of the city with your debauchery and lying, and have insulted Celestia herself through me!”

“Now Your Highness,” the stallion stated loudly. “None of this ever happened. No need to be worked up by the machinations of your imaginations. I don’t think you need a new jacket, but who knows? There’s a demon in each of us.”

Inwardly, Blueblood was confused by the statement. The way the stallion said it, it seemed to be like there was some sort of inside joke only he would get in the phrase. Or maybe that was the more cynical and conspiratorial portion of Blueblood’s brain working and warping his thoughts. No matter, Blueblood felt as if the stallion knew more than he should’ve, and he knew what the Blue Knight would be doing tonight.

“The Princesses will believe me when I tell them what you’ve done, what all of you’ve done, to me,” he shouted, almost in a crazed manner.

“The word of the most deceitful, despicable, delirious, douchebag in Canterlot, possibly Equestria, against that of some three dozen good, hardworking ponies who’ve only good intentions.” The stallion took a moment to reconsider his words, as the dropping of such a foul word received gasps from even the mare who’d struck him.

“Maybe I was too harsh though,” he amended. “Prove that I was wrong and run along back home, and not a word to mommy. After all, a criminal never has the right words against a Princess.”

It was an old expression, from before the creation of Celestia’s mental block, referencing to the criminal Secro Wing, and his trial for robbery against the Royals. The exact happenings were long forgotten, like much that time, but it was the origin of the rarely used adage. So the fact that the stallion knew it was strange and impressive within itself, and combining his earlier statements with it, Blueblood had no doubt that there was something at least unusual about the pony.

As his mental eulogy continued, Prince Blueblood sniffed indignantly, muttering, “Don’t order me around.”

He then turned and followed the stallion's orders, heading straight for the palace, the stallion’s strange words troubling him the whole way there.

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Scarlet Sunrise growled as the insufferable, terrible, worst stallion in the world stalked off silently. The crowd was dispersing and continuing about their day, too much of their precious time wasted enough to give the truth the time of day. Only the white unicorn had the decency to consider the matter worthy of true consideration. He could’ve at least let her knock his shins a few times before he stepped in, though. She probably should thank him, considering he’d kept her from going way too far. Stupid pegasi aggression.

Seeing the white stallion still stood beside her, contemplative, she took the opportunity presented. “Thanks for showing that stupid feather brain what’s up,” she thanked softly. “And for stopping me from taking it too far. Still, he shouldn’t just be able to walk away from every bad thing he does! “

“No, he shouldn’t,” the stallion responded. He took out a cigar from somewhere in his pockets, lighting it with his horn, taking a long puff out of it. Scarlet’s nose crinkled at the cherry scented smoke, but the stallion didn’t seem to notice in the slightest. “And he won’t.”

Her head turned in surprise at the statement. It was said softly, as if almost unintended for her. The stallion turned away from the way the Prince had disappeared, looking directly at her.

“How old are you,” he suddenly asked.

“Um, nineteen,” she muttered with uncertainty. She wasn't sure why she answered so quickly, let alone truthfully, but for some strange reason, the stallion intrigued her, and that was enough to gain him her trust.

He nodded thoughtfully, making full eye contact with her. “Do you want a job?”

Author's Note:

Alright, so, I know this chapter is over a month late, and that was the deadly culmination of school finals, diverted attention to other projects, and a computer crash that took out a total of eight thousand words across all four of my stories, including the first fifteen hundred for tis chapter. It's a blessing and a curse, as I'm trying to rewrite all of the lost stuff, but uniquely enough, I got to rewrite this into an overall better chapter than I thought it'd be. Hope you enjoy, and as always, please leave a comment.

Comments

[Bronycommander]

It's fine, better late than never. Great work as always. Two things I noticed

Blueblood hid his false amusement with false panic,

So he fakes something that he fakes already?

anything to make his situation wore

You mean worse, right?

[The_Darker_Fonts]

10618100
He's faking his entire Prince Blueblood persona, Everything he "feels" emotionally as the Prince is false. Also, yes, I meant worse,.

[Bronycommander]

10618306
Of course. Just felt odd to read, you know?