> The Blue Knight
>  by The_Darker_Fonts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“C’mon lady,” one of the stallions whispered fiercely, his pushing hooves pressing the poor mare’s back harder against the brick wall of the alleyway.  “Just give us your bits, an’ we won’t have any troubles.  Otherwise…”  His knife flashed in the light of sunset.
Trash and puddles of dirty water dotted the alley, but she couldn’t see the entrance well due to the other stallion standing near the entrance.  The night was cold, the first taste of autumn biting the Canterlot air.  River Lily’s favorite time of year.  The reason she was even out here, getting mugged by the two brutes in front of here.  
“Please,” she begged, looking around desperately.  Ooh, she had known there was something in the air tonight, something telling her bad would go down.  “I’ve told you already, I don’t have any bits on me.  None!”
“Alrighty then, gimme that pretty purple gem in your pocket.”
“No, I need it for-” 
She was cut off as the stallion shoved her, hitting her head against the wall as he began growling.  Lily winced at the pain in the back of her head.  
“I’ve tried bein’ nice, missy, but we need money, and we need it now,” the stallion growled.  The Earth pony stepped back, his gray fur and black mane blowing in the near night wind, brandishing his knife.  Lily shivered at the sight, and the stallion continued to growl, “If ya don’t gimme the gem, I just might let this little blighter… slip.”
Lily’s eyes widened at the insinuation. She looked away, tears streaking her face as she mumbled, “Okay, okay.  No need to get so flashy.”
She pulled out the small purple gem, the gift she had for her sister.  She slowly began handing it over, looking away when the stallion snatched it from her hooves.  The stallion didn’t move though, and gave her a sardicious look, scanning her.  There was a moment of confusion, then Lily knew exactly what he was doing.
“No no no no no,” she stuttered, pressing further back against the brick alleyway.  She looked around for anypony to help, but knew there was nopony.  The alleyway main entrance was a right and fifty paces away, and she couldn’t yell that loud without that knife being put to use.  She shivered, sliding down the wall and tucking her lavender tail around her, huddling into a ball on the dirty floor.  
The stallion gave a gruff chuckle.  “Fight if ya think ya can, lady, but there’s one a’ you and two a’ us.  I’d say-”
“You’re wrong,” another voice chimed in, questioningly.  The stallion and his companion started, and Lily lifted her head tentatively towards the stallions.  They were looking around in confusion as the voice once again  called out.  “I would leave the filly alone, if I were you.  Tartarus is full enough already without you two louts crowding it more.”
“Why you little- Come out and face like a stallion, you scump!”
“As you wish,” the voice answered.  
Suddenly, a shadow fell from above, landing on top of her assailant's companion.  He went down with a loud *oof* splaying out on the ground, unconscious.  Before the other stallion could react, the shadowy figure bucked his back legs into his chest, launching him to the ground.  As the stallion attempted to stand, the shadow darted forward, a hoof quicker than lightning shooting out and striking her attacker's temple.  He too fell to the ground, out cold.  Lily shivered as she stared at the two unconscious bodies of her attackers.
“Wh-who are you,” she asked the figure.  The figure turned back to her, the smile on his face lit dimly by the light of a nearby lantern.  He stepped closer, letting her see who he was.  At least, she figured he was a he, based on his build.  
He wore a midnight blue suit, almost fancy, but well made for the physical activity he was enduring.  A hat tipped his head, one with a wide brim and a low cup, enough that if he had a horn, it would be hidden.  The same went with his suit; tight, but still layered correctly so that if he had wings, they would never be revealed unintentionally.  His silk mask was the same color of his hat, covering even his eyes, though she had no doubt he could see through it somehow.  It was the emblem on his hat, however, that made him recognizable to any Canterlot lowlife.  An unorganized splatter of blue, roughly in the shape of a helmet, on the right side of his hat.
“Y-y-y-you-you’re the, the- the Blue Knight, a- aren’t you,” she asked, barely having the strength now to lift her head.  The noblest hero in all of Canterlot, no, Equestria, had just saved her flank!  She still lay on the ground, no longer huddling, but jaw agape nonetheless.  The legendary Blue Knight, and here she was, lying pitifully on the ground in a pile of muck!  Had she no respect?  
She stood uneasily, clamping her mouth shut and ducking her head.  “Th-thank you, sir,” she stammered, earning her another smile.  “For what you did, I mean.”
“Of course,” he said softly, “though I think you’ve forgotten something.”
Oh no!  Did she have to bow?  Was she supposed to say it more noblely? Less?
The Blue Knight stooped down and picked up something from off of the ground.  He held it up, catching the light of the lantern.  The purple crystal glowed softly in the dying daylight and lantern.  She gasped, and slowly took it from his hoof.  
“Th-th-thank you,” she stammered once again, looking into where his eyes would be.  “You’re- you’re really kind.  I bet that ponies who actually know you are very proud of that fact.”
The Blue Knight chuckled lightly.  “Yes, they may, but I doubt they think too highly of it.  I’m just doing what’s good for everypony!”
“Even them,” Lily asked, pointing to the still unconscious bodies of the stallions.
“Them too.  They’ll be handed over to the constables, and from there they’ll get a few years of lockup.  Celestia knows, but perhaps one day they’ll end up fighting for a little filly like you!”
“With all due respect, I’m not a filly.  I’m going on nineteen soon.”
The Blue Knight’s kind smile didn’t waver at her slight pout.  “To time, we’re all still little colts and fillies.  Even Princess Luna and Celestia.”  The Blue Knight suddenly looked towards the now darkened sky, a frown crossing his face briefly, the first she’d seen.  “And it seems that, right now I am late to time.  I must bid you goodbye and a safe night, Miss Lily.”
“Wait,” she called out as he began racing off into the night.  He paused, almost to another turn in the alleyway, looking back.  “Will I meet you again?”
The Blue Knight gave her a wry smile, calling back, “If we do, it won’t be with me the way I am right now!”  
With that, he was off, vanishing around the corner.  Lily had a thought to chase him, but she felt that if she were to turn that corner, no matter how quick she was, she wouldn’t find him there.  Nopony ever found the Blue Knight.  He found those who needed him, and helped them in any way he could.  There were legends and myths and heroes, like the Elements and the Princesses, and then there was the Blue Knight.  A regular pony amongst other regular ponies but in the night, no, anytime really, became a symbol of righteousness and help to anypony.
He had appeared just after Mare Do Well had disappeared from Ponyville, but unlike Mare Do Well, he had stayed.  Thieves, foalnappers, and thugs had all been caught thanks to the hero of Canterlot, but even stranger was that Celestia had given him the Purple Heart of Valor, and he hadn’t shown up for the ceremony!  
Lily shook her head.  She should get home before the night got too cold.  Besides, Amber Breeze would be worrying for her.  At least this time she had a legitimate reason.  
As she exited the alleyway, four constables rushed past, a nurse with them.  After some brief explanations and a check in on the bump on her head, she was free to go.  As she wandered down the midtown Canterlot streets, she wondered where the Blue Knight was at the moment…
> Chapter 1: Gala
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You, sir, are the most uncharming prince I have ever met!”  Blueblood feigned fear as the raging cake covered white unicorn marched up on him.  “In fact, the only thing royal about you is that you are a royal pain,” Rarity yelled.
“Ew!  S-stay away from me.” Blueblood continued his charade, pressing himself against the doors, actually ready to bolt if the mare became unruly beyond what he intended.  Struggling to find an excuse to get her even angrier and himself a worse reputation, he yelped out, “I just had myself groomed!”
That certainly did the trick.  The fire in her eyes flashed even hotter, and she gritted her teeth in a sour smile.  “What’s the matter,” she asked viciously, venom tipping every syllable out of her mouth.  “Afraid to get dirty?”
With the last bitter word, she began violently shaking herself, bits of cake flying every which way.  Several of the larger chunks plopped onto his immaculate tuxedo, multicolor frosting splattering him like paint.  He let out a scream of horror, standing up on his hind legs and stumbling backwards.  Though he could stay steady on them if he wished, he felt that falling backwards in a dramatic fashion would suffice for a representation of the Prince’s weak selfishness.  Landing on not his rump, but back, he began to realize where exactly he was.  Double doors, with a statue of an alicorn immediately to the left of them, where he’d just happened to stumble.  
The metal began to groan as it slowly tipped over towards a group of ponies.  Blueblood went from Prince to hero in less than an eyeblink, preparing to rush over to protect them, when a sudden cyan blur ran under it.  The mare caught it with her strong back, making a noise of triumph.  Triumph turned to uncertainty though as the mare began realizing that the wood statue had a pure bronze coating.  She began to stumble under its weight, a slight groan of strain escaping as she tumbled into a nearby artificial column.  The column toppled into the one beside it, creating a domino effect as one fell onto another, which in turn tipped onto another.  
Using the chaos to escape, he silently slipped through the double doors, the shrieking and shouting of civilized ponies covering the noise.  Rarity was too preoccupied with the scene before her to notice, and he knew that, even if she had seen him leave, she would have made no vocal fuss.  If anything, she would have growled and rolled her eyes.  Oh yes, he had seen very well how she felt with each of his rather disgusting actions, but, with all things, it had to happen.
As he ran out of the doors and around the hall corner, he came across two very tired looking mares.  Celestia stood a good head over his, Twilight a head under.  He was about to tell his princess and mother-figure what was transpiring, letting his mask fall for the briefest second, but remembered who her companion was.  Instead, conjuring as much distress and voice crack as possible he cried, “Things are crazy in there!”
He saw Celestia open her mouth to ask what exactly, but he continued on with his wild run, refusing to break character in front of an Element.  He raced around the corner and past a few confused guests who had decided to leave only moments ago.  He didn’t stop galloping until he reached the outer courtyards, slowing into a contrite trot as he began walking through an almost secretive part of the palace.  His thoughts consumed him, guilt for the terrible night he’d caused Rarity to have.  
Originally, he had planned to show up, make a few nobles unhappy, and slip away to enjoy the night on his own.  Of course, all that insinuated was several hours regretting all that he had to do and all he’d done, along with a light dabbling in questioning why he was born the way he was.  It wasn’t hard to know who exactly he was, in fact, that was the main reason he feared letting somepony other than Celestia or Luna know who exactly he was.  After all, if it was common knowledge that he had violent urges, who would bear to be with him?
Celestia had, of course, explained what he was.  He was one of only two she knew to have been born without her mental block on violence within the fifteen hundred years of its existence.  Something to do with rare genetics, like how a pegasus can be born to two Earth ponies without any pegasi blood.  Apparently, he was one of the lucky ones.  Celestia had taken him in after his parents had died in the Canterlot Falls Fire.  He’d been told both of them had been valiant, kind hearted nobles who had never so much as looked at another’s money.  Undeserving of the son they got, he thought harshly.
His face fell to the floor as he trotted along empty, unlit halls.  He stripped off the tuxedo without care, wiping his face clean of all cake and frosting.  He had the time to dry clean it later. 
He sighed.  Tonight could’ve been the night, he thought somberly.  If he’d been any other stallion, he would have happily pursued a romantic relationship with the young fashionista.  Indeed, he would have unintentionally if the need for his identity, both as the Hero of Canterlot and as a violent bound stallion, needed to be kept in the dark.  She was a pretty thing, barely into her twenties, so imaginative and full of life.  He truly felt bad for her, and himself, but for the better of them both, he had to.  
Raising his head slightly at the thought that kept him running through all of his mistakes and all of his choices, he turned the corner.  Here the halls opened up to the outdoors, small, thin quartz columns dividing the hall from the inner garden.  There were plenty of gardens in the castle, more than there were in any other place he’d been, but this one was special to him.
The gardens themselves had only a single tree, aqua blue in the moonlight, centered in the mausoleum.  All around, bordered by marble walls, flower plants and bushes, untrimmed and free to grow within their given space, flowed with passion.  Blooming night flowers, names forgotten to Blueblood, slowly opened themselves to absorb the soft moonlight.  A kindly little bush, his favorite of the garden, ran around it like a river around a mountain.  He liked to imagine that the plant was the flower’s older sibling, much larger and grander, brightly highlighted in the sun, but allowing it’s younger, smaller sibling thrive in the moon. 
A sound, one of emotional distress, was heard suddenly in the moonlit dark, one that Blueblood had heard so frequently in the past month.  His brows, raised slightly, dropped in sadness, knowing exactly who had been making that sound.
“Luna,” he called out, slowly stepping into the garden.  The sound of crying stopped abruptly, and he bit down on his lip.  Maybe this was a time that she didn’t want the help.  A second voice suddenly shouted in his head, But maybe this is one of the times she needs it!  He nodded to himself, but stopped, feeling foolish for it.  Not that anypony would see, but still, conduct was conduct.  
Dropping his tuxedo, he slowly stepped down the immaculate white stairs into the garden.  Quietly, like a snake threading its way through the grass, he crept around the tree.  A beautiful midnight blue mare sat on the ground among the roots of the tree, sniffling, pressing herself against the trunk as if to hide herself.  She looked up shyly at Blueblood, who gave her a smile.  She, in return, gave him a sad, angry stare to try to scare him away.
“Aunty, is it the Gala,” he asked gently, reaching a hoof down to her.  After a moment, a look of resignation overtook her face and she pulled him into a hug, much like a mother would.  Though he was smaller, it was only by a hair’s breadth.  “What happened,” he asked as she tucked her hooves over him, like she was comforting him and not the other way around.  
“Oh, it really shouldn’t be so upsetting,” she muttered timidly.  “They didn’t say anything, it was just, they didn’t say.”
“Aunty,” he said testily as he pulled away from her grip, giving her a stern look in the eye.
She sighed once again, before muttering, “It wasn’t anything big, just, well… Whenever I got too close, as in, ten spans away, they would just… walk away.  I kept getting dirty looks, and even thought I heard one of them call me a- a danger…”
Blueblood snorted.  “Much of a danger you are, huh?  Snuggling me like a teddy bear.”
“I snuggled a teddy bear before I was Nightmare Moon,” she said blandly.  
“Look, Luna,” Blueblood spoke, losing the jest.  “You’re changed now.  You’ve tasted what that nightmare thing gave you, and you don’t like it.  You know you won’t go back to it unless somepony forces you.  The prospect of you, though, the raiser of the moon and keeper of night, being forced into something like that is preposterous!  You’re stronger than you think, Aunty.”  He leaned back onto her and whispered softly, “and loved more than you know.”
“Thank you, Blueblood,” she returned, nuzzling him softly.  “You and Celestia have been too kind these past weeks.  But, admittedly, it’s exactly what I need.”
“Of course,” he affirmed.  He closed his eyes as they stayed that way for several minutes.  The stress of keeping his secrets and his personalities in check slid off of his shoulders as he relaxed against his closest friend and aunt.  They had found comfort in their similarities, the monsters they hid within themselves, the secrets they kept from Equestria.  
He was the first pony outside of the Elements and Celestia to welcome his aunty.  Celestia had always spoken hopefully of the prophecies of old, the ones made by Luna’s closest friend in life, Midnight Skywriter, and perfected by her daughter, Aurora.  When the signs were coming, she rushed to Ponyville, giving him instructions on how to keep the common populace calm, should things go wrong.  Which, inevitably, they did.  Thankfully, thanks to his advice, she’d sent the becoming Twilight Sparkle to Ponyville.  While Celestia might have thought of it herself, he had been the one to encourage it.
After a few more minutes of silence, Luna yawned.  Blueblood smiled, his eyes still closed as he asked, “Tired, Aunty?  It can’t be ten in the night yet!”
He could feel his aunt’s smile as she pulled away.  He sat upright and opened her eyes to meet her teasing gaze.  “Come now, nephew, that isn’t very fair.  You’re still tired in the morning after you wake up, are you not?”
Blueblood gave a pointed nod of the head.  “I suppose you have me there, Luna,” he admitted, leaning back and looking up at the sky from out of the tree’s canopy.  The night was bright, even for a full moon, with stars sprinkled about like dew in a field.  Well now I should run for poet laureate, Blueblood silently mused to himself, a small smile alighting his face.  He found it strange, but welcome, that he only smiled in earnest when he was with either his aunt, Celestia, or when he was finished kicking thieves’ flanks.
“How do you like it,” Luna asked, almost timidly.  “The night. I mean.”
“Oh, it’s lovely,” Blueblood answered, eyes still searching the sky.  He looked back down towards Luna, smiling wryly.  “No offense to Celestia, but she isn’t very much of a night pony.”
“No, my sister always did glow better in sunlight than starlight,” Luna said, and undertone of longing betraying the offhoofed tone in her voice.  Her smile fell to the ground, her gaze following.  A small sigh escaped her, and Blueblood tried to remain positive.  Luna seemed to shake her head for a moment, before speaking up.  “You seem to have some cake on you?  Do tell why.”
Blueblood looked himself over before noticing a smeared bit on his foreleg, the incriminating piece of evidence.  Grimacing at the almost forgotten deeds, he began his explanation.  Luna seemed unable to decide whether to laugh at him or give him a loving pat on the head, trying to conceal a smile at some points while wearing sad eyes at others.  She, of course, knew he never would have conducted the night in such a manner, but she still wore a look of discuss at some of the deeds he described.  
She hadn’t had time to adjust to the modern era, not yet really, as they had only just gotten her to speak regularly in the castle, and her obvious contempt at the lack of chivalry in modern society was prominent.  It played across her face as often as her hidden smiles as his tale of the night, and though he tried not to see, or even feel offended by, it, self-doubt crept sleekly into him.  He found himself on the verge of going into a tangent of self disgust and shame, but caught himself.  Things such as that were for his ears only, and Luna would chastise him for such thinking anyway.  Better to let himself think on that privately, as always.
As he finished his story, he found it was his aunt who pulled him into an embrace.  Unsurprising, considering the nature of his story had been directed towards himself, but still, it was a rare peasantry.  He accepted it, nuzzling his cheek on her’s before pulling back.
“As you pointed out, Aunty, I’m a tad messy, and my tuxedo needs a decent amount of attention, not to mention that I would like to go back out into the city tonight, so I think I’ll be off,” he said.  Her eyes were understanding, her head nodding.
“In that case, good night, dear nephew,” she responded.
Looking up one last time at the starry sky, he answered, “Yes, good night indeed, Luna.”
The Princess of the Night smiled as he trotted off into the castle, his own smile sticking as he reentered the castle, picking up the discarded tuxedo as he went.
He walked down the silent corridors thoughtlessly, only intent on arriving at his own quarters.  Nopony, not even Celestia and Luna, but him had been in his quarters.  There was a small, looming guest chamber for which staff, visitors, and family alike stayed while waiting for his to answer.  He himself had designed it so that they would be seated on a bench where they wouldn’t be able to view into his room via an open door.  It was intricately designed, somewhat to give the guests something to view while they waited, somewhat to give a glimpse of the supposed decadence of Prince Blueblood.  If his guest room was so intricately and exquisitely designed and decorated, how much more so his own chambers?
It was all a farce, a false face to elude guests of suspecting the truth.  As he entered into it, all to be seen were three pictures.  One of him and Celestia, one of his parents, and most recently, one of Luna, all in simple frames on a singular pine desk that stored his parchment and quills.  He was considering adding one of the Elements to his small collection, but given his outward relationship with them, he figured it inappropriate. Despite them being among his priorities now, he had very little experience with them, except for the unfortunate occasion tonight.  And given the way that friends spoke among themselves, he doubted he’d have a favorable face in their eyes.
With a sigh, he walked over to the only other material object in the room, his circular bed.  It was technically large enough for two ponies, or so the label had claimed, but with the circular way it was shaped, he was barely able to lay straight out on it.  He plopped down on it, sighing as he laid out.  He stared out of the large double window that led to a balcony, the moon shining brightly in a starry sky.  After a moment, he stood back up and walked to his closet.  It was well stocked with multiple suits, tuxedos, and “casual” clothes, all of the latest fashion, of course.
He tossed the tuxedo, still clutched in one hoof, in an empty wash bin, pulling out an ironing table that was embedded in the wall.  He mechanically filled the wash bin with water from the adjoining bathroom, adding soap from a container under the sink.  He washed the clothing carefully while the iron heated up, before rinsing it out and beginning to iron it.  As steam rose from the clothes while he ran the iron over it, he thought over his plans for the night. 
Go out  among the citizens of the city as the benevolent, heroic figure they'd christened as the Blue Knight.  Ensure that nopony in his city was hurt or endangered under his watch, and overall, wait and think on his life.  Blueblood sighed, wondering what would come if ponies knew the true nature of their beloved hero.  Prince Blueblood was a known and hated name among the general populace and nobility alike as a rude, pompous noble that exemplified decadence and greed.  A face ponies could point to for abuse of power in the ranks of the nobility, a face ponies could blame for the corruption of nobility, proof that even Celestia can’t convert ponies to being better selves.  Of course, the massive amounts of money missing magically appeared in the form of hundreds of small donations to struggling ponies by an anonymous source.  
As much as Celestia was merely a face for which ponies could blame for recessions, famines, and conflict so that the local leaders wouldn’t be, he was the face on which ponies spat so the other nobles wouldn’t.  For the most part, the strategy worked.  Ponies and the local leaders built strong relationships with each other, and when the leader inevitably made a mistake, Celestia or himself would take the majority of the blame, giving the governor, mayor, or legislate another chance to do the right.  It was why Equestria was so productive, so peaceful, and so successful.  That, and the mental block, of course.  
Blueblood yelped in pain as the iron slid too close to his hoof, the immediate steam searing his hoof slightly.  He shook it while grimacing, staring down at the tux.  It looked good as new, if not still slightly damp in a few areas.  A few more presses of the iron and it was done, folded, and tucked into the only drawer of the dozens in the closet he used.  Well, one of two, technically.  
Enacting the second part of his plan for the later hours of the night, he opened the lowest drawer, pulling it out all of the way.  Doing so revealed a pair of folded clothes on the clean, dustless carpeting beneath the drawer.  He pulled it out, unfolding it as he held it up.  A hat fell out, floating to the floor.  He pulled himself into the suit, skillfully avoiding getting his horn or appendages caught in the folds of the cloak.  His horn slid through the little hole in the headpiece, lighting up momentarily to cast an eyesight enhancement spell that allowed him to see clearly through the thin cloth eye coverings.  He picked the fedora up from off the ground, popping the top up and settling it on his head, hiding his horn.  
He looked into the full body mirror that overtook a portion of the wall, admiring his gard.  His emblem, and addition to his costume that had been added after he had received his street name, shone proudly in the light of his closet.  He smiled, noticeable from his outward appearance by stretch in the fabric.  He would like to fix that sometime, but tonight was not the night.  Swiftly, he turned away, cloak fluttering by the abrupt movement.
He walked briskly across his room to the double windows.  Pushing it open, he exited, closing them softly behind him.  Taking a deep breath, he leapt over the side of the balcony.
> Chapter 2: Gallant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blueblood lit his horn, levitating himself in the air.  To an outside viewer, he would look as if he were falling on a straight line, the glow of his magic hidden by the clothing that he wore.  Using that same magic, he spread certain portions of the cloak to resemble winds, well practiced memory allowing him to flap those “wings” in pattern to his flight.  He made himself waver in rhythm to his flight, authenticating his ploy as a pegasus.  Of course, he didn’t technically even need all of this fakery; nopony would ever suspect the ignoble, bastardly Blueblood to actually be the Blue Knight, but it was nice to have precautions.
A few flaps later, he was at the roof of a smaller tower of the castle.  It, like his own room, faced out over the plains, away from the city and any watching ponies.  He landed briefly, resting his already tired body on the smooth and clean shingles.  His footing was held with practiced balance.  When one had no time to make friends or keep jobs, they had several hours to spend on their hobbies.  Luckily enough for him, the hobby in question was more than satisfactory for him and the ponies of Canterlot.
However, despite his best efforts, crime did live on, so he had to keep it away from the living.  Some ponies, if not most, took sight of him, and feared him, losing any interest in becoming a robber, thief, or fraudist.  There was a small minority though, that looked at him in the news and dreamed of besting the legendary Hero in the streets.  Those were the ones he had to worry  about, mainly due to their bullheadedness.  Sure, the mental block kept most ponies from harm, but there was more than one way to die in Equestria.  
His biggest failing still haunted him and the populace of Equestria.  A false banker had been able to fraud even a few of the noble class out of their houses and into the streets.  Those that didn’t move from their house were found starved to death.  The worst case had been revealed after one family had turned to something unheard of: cannibalism.  Shuddering at the memory of the stripped clean bodies, he tried to force the gruesome line of thoughts out of his head, but the unnaturally violent and morbid piece of him pursued it.
It was one of those moments, he decided, glaring at the shingles.  Slowly, he released his magic on himself.  Breathing out, he reached into his own mind with his magic.  Pulling carefully on the strained thoughts of bloody images and grotesque displays of pony anatomy, he focused it.  Making the visions and thoughts into a more materialized matter, he began pulling it away to his horn.  Even without being able to look at it, he could feel the vibrating of its black energy.  Slowly releasing it as to not burn a hole through his fedora, the sickly red and yellow magic cloud floated out of his horn.  
He watched the essence float away for several seconds before it faded away.  He really didn’t even know what it was, other than that at one point, it had been powerful enough to level several hundred trees on release.  Luckily the deep confines of the Padderhoof Forest had little life beside the thin trees and thick moss, but it was still frightening to see that he could do something so destructive with his magic and not even feel the slightest bit exerted.  Celestia had told him that his birthright was one of death and destruction if he didn’t learn to control, and he hadn’t been fearful of himself until that moment.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, he took off once again from the rooftop, falling out towards the plain over twelve hundred spans below.  He sped up as he fell, enjoying the feeling of the wind flapping through his cloaks and the coat.  It was always enjoyable, though Luna had once boasted that wings were much better than “simple magic tricks”.  While he didn’t doubt the integrity of his aunt’s words, he did doubt how dangerous it felt to a pegasus.
The pegasi and alicorns had wings to rely on, wings that could unfold and catch them easily.  They had wings to guide them, instincts to rely on with those wings, even a direct connection to the air through which they travelled.  They lived in the sky, learned to fly in its clouds like a unicorn or earth pony would learn to walk.  However, unicorns had no such connection.  They had magic, which by all accounts was superior, but unreliable.  There was a theorem to the way it worked, occasionally failing on the first or second try, even with the most skilled mage.  Even then, it wasn’t instinctual, and often had to be taught for both use and control.  In order for them to fly among the clouds as a pegasus would, they needed not only skill, but precise concision.
Especially when the earth was speeding to meet them.  He smiled, edging on cocky as the green of the ground overtook the entirety of his vision.  Time slowed, challenging him.  The ground still moved closer and closer to his muzzle, almost like a green blanket coming to smother him.  Every blade of grass became discernable, a million small threads in a single strand of the world.  The moon lit his oncoming escapade, as if the night’s eye were itself interested in his challenge.
At the last moment, he unleashed his magic, catching himself in the hold of his own magic.  His practiced maneuver allowed him a soft landing, without even the common jerk of whiplash to catch him.  It seemed as if the entire world was his for a moment, that his skilled prowess was unbeatable by any feat Starswirl could condone, or Celestia create.  He laughed airily, cheerfully as the adrenaline rushed through his bodice, leaving him warm.  He felt energized, exuberant, and irrational.  Just what he needed for his workday.  Just what the Blue Knight needed to be for Canterlot.
That was, until he heard a mare screaming.  
His head whipped around to where the sound had just ceased from coming.  The mare stood near the riverside, the waterfall and sheer cliff wall looming behind her.  The poor mare’s face was blanched even in the relative darkness, her eyes wide with fear for him and what she had just witnessed.  For a minute, he thought he recognised her, but it wasn’t until she’d stumbled onto her rump that he did.  
This was the very same mare he had rescued from those goons only hours earlier.  Well, it appeared that his estimation of how long it would be until he saw her again was a bit off.  Her jaw had dropped some time ago, and it didn’t seem like it would close anytime soon, thanks to his exhilarating stunt.  Smiling cheerfully, he stepped up to her, putting his hoof under her jaw and closing her jaw gently, saying teasingly, “Now now, dear, it’d be a terrible thing to have a bug fly in there.”
Luckily her mouth stayed closed as he backed away some, but it was shaking slightly.  He felt a little sorry for terrifying her so, but, admittedly, it was hilarious to watch the reaction of somepony else at his escapade.  Luna was the only other pony to have watched his stunt before, but she had actually encouraged it, quotably “unimpressed”.  Apparently, she had done things “about thirty percent more dangerous” than anything he’d done to this day.  Though he doubted she had ever terrified somepony, even as Nightmare Moon, as he had done with this poor mare.  Oh well, still something to cross off of his bucket list.
“Sorry for frightening you so much, Ms. River,” he apologized amicably, holding out a hoof for a shake.  She took it unsteadily, her eyes scanning his mask with the sort of wide-eyed wonder he might expect from a colt meeting his favorite Power Pony, but not at all from a full-grown mare.  Or, well, she seemed almost there.  Maybe late teens, early twenties?  Oh, what did it matter to him?  She had told him, but he didn’t really remember well.  There were thousands of ponies like her in Canterlot; getting to know each of them personally would be like trying to count all of the fish in the sea.  Nigh on impossible.
“Uh -no no, it’s a… fine…”  The poor mare seemed so unsure and nervous, as if he was some great beast waiting for the opportunity to eat her up.  Just like earlier, he noticed.  “I-I-I-I was j-just a, you know, just a-a bit w-worried about you, cuz, y-you know.  Falling.  R-right?”
“Yes, yes I understand,” he spoke cheerfully.  “There really isn’t any worry to be afraid about it.”  Well, actually there was, but what help would that do with the poor mare?  “I’ve done this dozens of times already, and yet here I am after every time!  Not pancaked on the ground, but still the Blue Knight!  So no need to worry at all!”
“Y-yeah,” she muttered, sitting back a little.  Almost relaxed.  But then she shot up excitedly, asking quickly, “How did you do that?  It was amazing!  Scary, but amazing!”
“I’d reckon that scary and amazing can be the same thing, right,” he answered, trying to subtly change the question.
Ms. River quirked her head in confusion, raising an unsure eyebrow at his response.  “I mean, sure, I guess, but how does that answer my question?” 
Dang it.  She was smarter than what he’d hoped for.  Then again, most ponies were.  Thus the disguise and secrecy.  
“No, no I guess it doesn’t,” he admitted guiltlessly.  Or at least, he hoped it sounded so.  “But I do hope you realize that there’s an entire race of flying ponies, right?  I mean, you seem smart enough to have passed kindergarten, but-”
“Hey!” the mare shouted, interrupting him, looking quite flustered.  He realized for a moment that his teasing had overstepped the bounds, and was about to apologize when the mare began giggling.  She looked up at him, shaking her head slightly.  “You’re a bit ridiculous, you know?  I mean, of course I know what a pegasus is!  My sister’s one, after all!  I asked how because nothing about that little stunt of yours was pegasus movement.  You just sorta jerked to a halt, but softly, not like without draft or parachuting.  Unnatural movement, without magic at least…” 
Her unsaid question put Blueblood a little on edge, but he resumed his cheery attitude as he asked, “Well, can’t a stallion such as myself keep his secrets?
“I guess,” she responded, looking behind her to the waterfall then up the sheer cliff face.  “Just kinda, fishy, almost.  I don’t know.  You’re the Blue Knight!  It could be anything!”
Blueblood chuckled at the mare, smiling through his mask at her.  It’d been a while since he’d had just a normal conversation with somepony.  It was nice, sure, but it was also dangerous.  Even in the few moments he’d actually been talking with her, Blueblood could feel a slight urge in the back of his head to just… speak.  But to do so would be compromising not only him, but potentially the Princesses.  And with Luna’s barely formed security in the new world, a civil attack on her and Celestia’s images, especially false ones, would shatter her.
So, even as the social piece of him wanted to continue to converse and tell, he turned back to the cliff face.  Stepping forward to it and spreading his “wings”, he felt something soft on his hoof.  Looking down, he saw a small, lavender-purple flower, its stem crushed by his forehoof.  The way the flower rested on his hoof. Much like it was weak and needed support, caught his attention.  Slowly he bent down and picked it, observing it carefully.
“It’s a healer’s mark,” remarked Ms. River.
“What was that, Ms. River,” he asked, turning over to her.  She blushed at the sudden attention before flashing him her cutie mark; a blossoming whitelock.  “It’s a healer’s mark.  It doesn’t have any healing properties, as far as we know, but it was the Pillar Meadowbrook’s flower.  The one she “blessed”, many ponies say.  Only blooms at night though, and requires a large quantity of water, which is why they grow so well here.  And just Lily is fine.  S-Sorry, I’m… kinda a gardener.”
“Only kinda,” he asked quirkily, causing the mare to blush deeper.
“Well, it is my passion,” she muttered daintily.  Shaking her head slightly, almost as if she was shaking away how flustered she was, she spoke up.  “It’s why I’m down here, actually.  I don’t really know if you overheard this in the alleyway, but it’s my sister’s birthday, so I’m giving her a lilac gem and a bouquet of these flowers.  They’re our favorite type.”
She giggled a little at the end of the statement, causing him to raise his eyebrows behind his mask.  She stopped after a few seconds, looking away quickly and bending over to a basket he had been too distracted to see.  Picking up a few flowers in her muzzle, she silently, but eagerly offered them to him. He gave her a pointed look through the mask, though he doubted she could actually see it, but the silence was enough.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, dropping the petals to the sodden ground in sheepish realization.  “Right, can't really take off your mask to, well um… pick up the flowers, huh?”
“Exactly,” he affirmed cheerfully.  The mare looked a little displeased that she couldn’t quite give him the flowers, but to make amends, he spoke, “How about you finish picking the flowers, and once you’re gone, I’ll grab some for myself.”
Lily instantly brightened up, nodding in agreement as she once again bent down to her overflowing basket.  “I already have enough flowers, so I think it’ll be fine if I leave now.  Um, thank you again, mister.  For the chatter, I mean.  It’s been a while since I’ve had one so, um, amicable with a stranger.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, to be sure,” Blueblood responded cheerfully.  He watched as Lily bowed nervously and practically sprinted off.  She may have attested to being called a filly just hours ago, but she sure held the lithe energy of one.  He chuckled dryly, wishing he were still just an innocent foal, but alas, Celestia’s divine blessing hadn’t fallen on him, leaving him designed at birth for this fate.  May as well get the night over with though, to get the least miserable part of his life: sleeping.  Aunt Luna had helped him have some rather pleasant ones as of late, and he hoped that tonight would be the same.
He pulled the mask back over his muzzle, leaving the eye coverings on.  Bending down to pick a bunch of the flowers, his thoughts drifted to the mare.  Lily.  he wondered exactly who her family and friends were.  If he’d had the pleasure of meeting them yet in person too.  He doubted -Canterlot was an enormous city, and he was just one pony- that he had, but who knew?  Perhaps?  No matter.  If he had met them, they too might believe how their daughter or sister had met the Blue Knight twice in one night.  Almost unbelievable to him, and he was the Blue Knight. 
He suddenly found the flowers had been picked, nearly a dozen of them.  Smiling to himself, he took off into the air once again, flying up the cliff face, eyeing the Golden Staircase.  The steps leading up to Canterlot were inhabited by only one being, who waved a teal hoof at him as he flew toward the clouds. 
> Chapter 3: Baltimare Smoker
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dimming of his room to a burnt yellow in the light of the setting sun only further drew him to the cigar.  The subtle white unicorn had, for years now, been attempting to keep his mouth off of the stub of a cigar, but had found too much comfort in it.  He knew what it did to him, how his life shortened with every puff of smoke, but every time he tried to resist, he found it impossible to stop.  So, as always, he found the stub of a nice Manehattan style in between his teeth, cherry scented smoke rising through the air in front of him.
The stallion stared out at the setting sun through his grimy, stained brown window.  His office was on the fourth floor of his factory, or at least, the main one, which allowed him to view over the other smaller, wider factories and out across the city.  He was able to glance at the sun shining on the waters of the Appatamare.  Everything was dark save the window, the dying sunlight too weak to light the rest of his office any better.  That was fine, though.  He wouldn’t be in here long, at least, long enough to waste kerosene lighting lamps.  
He turned away from the light, walking towards the stark gray door of faded acacia wood.  It’d been well wrought at one point, fine, without the slightest dent or grain in it, but the years of use and sunlight through the infrared windows had aged it, leaving great ravines of wood in it.  He pushed through it mindlessly, grabbing his cloak from a cloak hanger as he went.  He didn’t need it, not this early into the fall, but he welcomed the extra warmth readily.  He was the type to revel in the heat of his office in the midsummer, refusing to turn the A/C on.
He walked down simple, slotted metal star steps, down three empty levels and to the small exit door in the back.  The factory had been empty since six, as overnight production was illegalized after a huge list of scandals and misdeeds had been revealed.  The unworked machinery stood like skeletons, lit by the dull yellow light through several medium-sized windows, watching with ethereal silence as he proceeded.  Unlit furnaced, bare of anything but coal chunks, gaped like ominous mouths attempting to lure him in.  It was a sight he’d seen for the past thirteen years, but it still remained slightly uncanny to watch.
As he entered the bare streets of the city, he glared at a passing group of fillies, shouting for them to watch where they were running.  They failed to acknowledge him, causing small embers of anger to rise in his chest, but with a controlled puff of smoke, he released it.  They were young and didn’t care, nor did they really need to.  His life didn’t concern them, at least, it didn’t seem like it.  He smiled at his little inside joke, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  He turned briskly and walked down the westside street, towards the living districts.
The city had obviously been designed by earth ponies, and as such, retained their characteristics of simplism.  The city wasn’t fancy, nor had it attempted to be until a new sensation of arts and fashion had swept through with a new and younger generation of unicorns and impressionable earth ponies.  It was interesting to watch, but really, he knew that in twenty year’s time, a new sensation would come and destroy the world of fashion.  It was always like that with cities, all of them except the prestigious seat of the Princess.  Canterlot.  He frowned, the very name of the city popping into his head disgusting him.
Puffing out another cloud of smoke, he noticed something on the side of the road.  It would seem like nothing to the common observer, even those who had walked this street more times and longer than the stallion.  But it was an anomaly that only somepony looking for it would notice.  Something that was only intended for one specific stallion to see, to notice with a single glance.  And the only way that stallion would notice it would be through hundreds of glances, so much so that it was unconsciously memorized in the constant movement of his daily routine.  His daily life.
It was nothing big, but at the same time, it was huge.  His lip curled up, and for the first time that month, the smile hit his eyes.  Finally, finally something had happened.  It’d been weeks since he’d set the plants in Canterlot, and he’d grown rather impatient with the lack of communication or even relative progress made.  He walked up to the grate, bending down to the sewer grate in the side of the road, picking up the purple piece of paper from it.  It had been stuck to the grate with a piece of chewed gum, a long, strong strand of the white substance connecting the paper to the metal.  Primitive, but useful.  
He puffed his cigar once again before tossing it aside.  It might not have been finished, but right now, he didn’t care.  Besides, maybe with this letter, he would finally feel cheerful enough to quit smoking once and for all.  He replaced the cigar with the corner of the letter that had been sticking out into the air.  He trotted happily back to his apartment block, not even minding the way the green was horrendously contrasted with the burnt yellow of the sun setting.  He carefully opened the gate to the entrance to his ground level apartment, entering quickly. 
He rushed to the table, setting the letter down carefully.  Holding one corner of it down with a hoof, he tore the top off, pulling the slightly wrinkled sheet of paper out of the envelope.  He read it quickly, eyes scanning the paper with malicious intent, hoping for the better, praying for the best.  He rarely prayed, but as he came to the closing words of the letter, the last line, he hoped to the very deity he hated that it wouldn’t, couldn’t be so.  Unfortunately, for both him and the stallion who sent this, it was.  
With an angry huff, he walked over to the drawer nearest to his sink, pulling open and producing a cigar.  Using his magic, he lit it, inhaling deeply.
This was bad.  Extremely bad.  Possibly compromising if he didn’t act fast.  Looking around at his apartment, he realized that there was no need for him to stay any longer.  He had work, much more important than running a series of dingy factories.  He threw his cloak on, the only thing that he cared to take from his apartment at the moment.  On second thought he walked back over to the drawer, pulled out the pack of cigars, and then walked out of the apartment building.  He didn’t even need to turn off the light seeing as how he’d failed to have done so when he entered.
The door slammed shut behind him as he trudged across the rough pavement path, stopping suddenly at the sight of Cherry Taffy.  The elderly mare was once again attempting to lift four overstuffed grocery bags in her mouth, obviously causing her at least mild pain and severe frustration.  Sighing, he approached her with an outstretched hoof.  Mumbling around his cigar, he chastised the old earth pony.
“Miss Taffy, you know what I’ve said before about carrying around your own groceries.”  The mare glanced at him with a slightly sheepish glance.  As he took three of the bags into his own mouth, she muttered shortly, “Oh, you know, but I know too, I guess.”
The stallion gave the mare a tight smile around the plastic bags.  The old mare sometimes said things rather confusing, but personally, he found the whole thing slightly amusing.  He kept pace with his slower neighbor, trudging up a short flight of stairs and across an outward facing hallway until they reached her apartment.  He pushed open the door for her, waiting for her to enter before setting the groceries in his mouth on her old table.  The door had characteristically stayed budged open, stuck by some fault in the design of the old doorway made too long ago to fix.
He sighed, looking out of the window next to the table.  The sun was set now, split in half by the horizon, bits of buildings sticking up into the glowing golden.  It was past time to leave, considering all that was going on in Canterlot and how long it may take him to get there.  Nodding to the mare, he said quickly, “I’d be helping you put the groceries away now, but I have places to be.”
“Ladies to see,” Taffy asked with a sort of elderly charm to the question.  
Chuckling softly, he answered, “No, not tonight.  Much graver matters, out of town matters.  I don’t think I’ll be back anytime soon, though.  I hope it wouldn’t be too much to ask if you could tell Hunk about it.”
“Oh, why I’d take care of your place if you needed,” Taffy kindly affirmed.
“No, it’s all right,” he spoke, slightly firm to ensure the brazen mare wouldn’t attempt to.  “Hunk still owes me a favor.”
“If you say so.”  The mare looked out the window with a wrinkled frown.  “Best get going though.  The train leaves soon, if my old memory serves correct.”
The white stallion nodded.  “Well, it does.  But hopefully my young legs will be able to run the city in the time I have.”
The elder pony’s face scrunched up in a boisterous laugh at his joke, turning to her groceries to begin putting them away.  The younger stallion took his leave, closing the door gently behind him.  Puffing out another breath of smoke, he raced off towards the Baltimare Transcontinental.
> 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.  

*******************************************************************************************************

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?”
> Chapter 5: Breakout
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brick and Thorn ran down the narrow hallway of the small Canterlot police station, their padded hoofsteps silent on the tiled floor.  Finally the boss had decided to get them out.  They’d been in this stupid jail for just shy of a week before he’d carried through on his promise to bust them out.  There was undoubtedly some sense of shame between the brothers, as they’d been caught not only thieving, but caught by the very stallion they were supposed to avoid.  Wasn’t their fault he had eyes everywhere though!
Still running, they turned a corner, body ramming an approaching police officer.  She flew through the air a few fetlocks before landing with a thud on now-carpeted ground.  Perfect.  Carpet meant ponies, and ponies meant an exit.  Before the mare could cry out, Brick deliberately stepped on her exposed stomach, knocking the wind out of her and crushing her soft parts.  Behind him, he heard a thud, indicating that his brother had either followed through with a kick to the head or another knockout strike to the pegasus mare.  Stupid sky rats couldn’t fight against earth ponies.
The two entered an open room, though it was crammed with paper laden desks and metal filing cabinets.  Three other officers were here, either managing the desk or dealing with the paper stacks.  The one closest to the exit into the visitor area saw the brothers and called out to the other two.  It was too late for a stallion in a desk right beside the hallway, whose head was slammed into the desk he was working at by Thorn.  The other two immediately drew their nightclubs, one magically and the other physically, forcing the brothers to slow down and consider.  With a glance and tail flick to his right, Thorn indicated to single out the one on the right and then deal with the one defending the exit.  
As his brother had ordered, Brick tossed himself at the unicorn mare, dodging under her swing and coming up with a brutal undercut.  This stunned the mare, causing her to drop the club into Thorn’s hooves.  Unsurprised that the mare had already dropped her weapon already, Thorn used it to block a strike from the remaining armed constable while Brick launched himself into the mare.  She slammed into a filing cabinet, struggling to stay standing from the heavy blows.  Grinning viciously, he raised himself up onto his back legs, before kicking out his front in a leap forward.  The move bashed the mare’s face, giving her a bloody nose and bruised eye at the same time.
She fell to the ground, but Brick wasn’t being interrupted, so he didn’t stop.  Going back to all fours, he began kicking her over and over as she attempted to curl up.  If it wasn’t for that damn hero, he wouldn’t be here, kicking a mare over and over again in the side.  He wouldn’t be in such hot water with the boss, he wouldn’t have his neck on the line, he wouldn’t be in this damn police station, kicking a damn police bloody.  If it wasn’t for that half-bred bastard, he wouldn’t be feeling this pain in his jaw, the one that he felt as he growled at his unconscious victim.
“Hey,” a sharp voice shouted, piercing through the red mist filling his head.  “No killing, you idiot!”
Brick forced a final kick into the bleeding mare’s side before turning and facing the voice.  It was the boss, as always, somehow where he needed to be with no explanation on how.  The boss had a name, everypony did, but he hadn’t the courtesy to share it, and Brick the care to ask.  They were getting paid, they got to do what they liked, but most importantly, they weren’t inferior.  The boss was like them, a bloody, but he was a strange one.  His hooves were as clean as his white coat, something neither of the brothers could boast.  In fact, Brick’s were quite literally bloodstained.  Funny how wordplay did that.
Taking a few steps back, he glanced at the constable that Thorn had taken care of.  He wasn’t even bloody, just partially bruised on his cheek and with a swollen eye.  He turned his eyes back to the boss, wincing internally at the glare he was silently giving the younger stallion.  
“Do you know what killing that cop would insinuate, Mr. Bick,” the white unicorn asked coldly.  “It would insinuate that we are not ponies, but some dangerous syndicate of imposters, here to destroy the entirety of Equestria.”
“Uh, sir, I don’t think that’s quite… precise,” his brother objected, before trailing off with a sharp glance from the boss.  
“Exaggeration, my friend.  Quite acute when trying to depict the rather slow mental resilience of our pacifistic kin, as they are rather presumptuous that everything and anything will destroy them.  It’s why the banishing of the Moon Princess was so accepted.  The simple belief that someone with more power than them had rid them of a great menace.  And we don’t want to become the next menace through this reckless act of violence.  We’ll be extremely lucky if this beating is only on the front page of the Canterlot newspapers, and none of the other ones.”
Shuffling uncomfortably, Brick finally grumbled a deflated, “We should get outta here, boss.”  A curt nod from the stallion was the only response he received, though that was a hundred times better than any more chastisement from the wiser pony.  With a short, apologetic glance to his brother, Brick took the lead and left the building through the front.  
At this late in the night, nopony but the beggars were out.  Of course they weren’t real beggars, just ponies vying for an extra bit or small job to finish filling their piggy banks.  Most of them were foals, which meant that the criminals had nothing to fear when one gave them a strange turn of the head.  
“Scram, kid,” Thorn yelled at him.  “I ain’t got any bits for ya.” 
The urchin dashed across the road and down the sidewalk, before turning the corner and leaving the street entirely.  There wasn’t any other soul on the street, or in any of the buildings.  The station they’d been held in was an outlet station, about a third the size of the real ones.  It was situated on a business street, with restaurants, bakeries, and shops of all sorts surrounding it.  It was long past closing hours, and given the fact that their recent activity had been in the area, many ponies wouldn’t dare leave the safety of their houses this late.  It was almost satisfying to know that they were the cause of this emptiness in the streets, the silence across the road.  It was empowering that they had the capability to do this.  It also begged a question: What more could they do?
The thought of it thrilled him, and despite his shame for being arrested, chided, and losing control, he felt as if the whole ordeal was a victory.  They’d proven that they were indeed above the law, and that the only justice that mattered was their justice.  Finally, they weren’t the beaten minority, but the rising minority.  And all it had taken to prove so was a maimed cop.  
Smiling to himself, he rounded the block into one of the less well maintained streets.  Though it was indeed a Canterlot avenue, there were bits of trash scattered here and there, and two of the street side lamps were out.  The houses here were painted a strange creamy yellow, that looked halfway like sour milk.  In spite of this, the residents here seemed relatively proud of their homes, with many freshly painted over, or otherwise in good condition.  Only in Canterlot could the lower middle class be so pompous.  It was as sickening as the colors that their houses were painted.
There was complete silence as they entered the third house down the lane, save for the creaking of the old door hinges.  The inside was homely enough, with a few couches and a fireplace, even a little hoof knit rug.  There wasn’t much else though, so staying in the house was rather boring.  The second story consisted of his room, his brother’s room, his brother’s office, the boss’ room, his office, and a bathroom as well.  Brick didn’t have or need an office.  Offices were for ponies that thought more than they did, and Brick prided himself on the fact that he did both without having to sit at a desk for hours.
“Get some sleep, you two,” the boss instructed, before glancing at Bricks hooves.  With a tight-lipped stare, he added, “Wash yourself off first, though.  We don’t want blood stains all over the place.”
With a curt nod, he complied, leaving the boss and his brother as he reentered the streets.  While they did have a sink in the house, several, in fact, he was smarter than to track blood across the carpet and rugs.  That meant he would have to shampoo them, and he didn’t have the time or effort to follow through with the project.  Instead, he went around the back, turned on the spout that stook out the side of the house, and meticulously removed the crusted blood from his chitinous hooves.  He always did love those big words, the ones taught to him by a too good foster mother.  Unfortunate that life kept hurtling him and his brother through so many cities.
With a sigh, he decided that reminiscing over lost life was only going to damage his mood more, he turned to leave and reenter the home.  Uncomfortably, he felt eyes trained on him as he went about his way.  Tightening his jaw, he glanced up to the rooftops, half expecting there to be the haunting figure of the Blue Knight lurking over him.  There wasn’t, and Brick let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  With a new feeling of confidence and comfort, he opened the door and ducked into the safehouse.

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Lily River was frozen where he stood.  That had to have been a mistake, right?  There was no way that was the same stallion from only three nights before!  He was locked up with his brother.  That was what the constables had reassured her.  But unmistakable, that was the stallion that had robbed and assaulted her.  
What the hay was he even doing out?  Had he broken out?  And why was he washing his hooves off so thoroughly?  
Too many questions, and not enough answers.  For now, she just stood solidly against the side of the house across from the one he’d entered, heart pounding so loud she was sure it would wake up the whole neighborhood.  The impossibility of the situation was only multiplied by the house that they had entered.  It was good old Trinkle’s house, the old mare that handed out candied fruits to the neighborhood foals on summer days.  Had they taken her hostage?  Had they… done even worse?
Lily shook the thought from her.  No, even for stallions as bad as them, murdering an old mare was impossible.  Murder itself was something heard of once in a hundred year, and it wouldn’t even be on her mind if it weren’t for that wretched stallion.  
Taking a deep breath, she stepped from the alley and speedily trotted down the street to her own house.  She entered it and went straight to her room, past her dozing father and nephew and up the stairs, ignoring the sounds of Liffy whining from her sister’s room.  The dog probably only wanted to say hi, but she was in no mood for fluffy mutts and cute family members.  
Shutting her door, she slumped to the floor hopelessly.  The goon, possibly goons, that had attacked her lived somewhere in her neighborhood, or at least were temporarily residing there.  She could go to the constable and tell them about it.  Maybe if they knew what they were up against, or at least where the criminals were, they could properly contain the villains.  But at the same time, they’d failed already.  What could they do that would successfully contain the stallion?  Nothing that she knew.
Which left only one option.  She needed to take matters into her own hooves.
> Chapter 6: Private Investigator
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re glowering again,” Luna told Blueblood, looking up at him from over her book.  Blueblood sighed, trying to ease up his face as he continued to study both the newspaper article, the city maps, and the neighborhood maps of the prison from where the criminals had escaped.  It was one of those nights when Luna felt less stress to enter the Dream Realm, and instead caught up on the history she'd missed.  It was an awkward process, as one couldn’t forget that she’d been on the moon only a few months prior, despite everypony trying to act casual about it.  
“Sorry,” he finally apologized, still looking over the papers in front of him.  “You’ve read the news?”
“No, but I know from one of the guards,” Luna replied.  “The usual gossip material, the cousin of his brother-in-law’s friend.  It’s nasty either way.”
“It’s concerning,” Blueblood corrected.  “Perhaps even a threat to the city.  Ponies without the mental block exist, as I know, and as Celestia has told me, but they’re mostly untraceable, and too rare a case to be concerning.  Even if they united, there would be at most fifteen, and that’d be including me.  The most ponies I’ve fought at once is four, but at the same time, those were petty crooks who clung to the block like a lifeline, barely swinging their hooves in retaliation.”
“And yet you still beat them as if they had nearly killed you,” Luna commented questionably.  “Why?”
“Pain is the best teacher,” he answered stiffly.  “A foal won’t learn how much the stove burns until they’ve touched it.  Likewise, criminals don’t know the cost of their crime until I’ve dealt with them.”
“So these criminals must really be dangerous if they are willing to risk it again,” Luna realized, before humming softly.  “I don’t think this is as big a danger as you believe, however.  They are two brothers, obviously reckless in their actions, and not too smart, either, as they’ve proven with being caught so early in their career.  Besides that, they’re destructive, as they've proven with their barbaric beating of that poor cop.  Just follow the rubble to the rats.”
“Yes, that’s the plan,” he muttered, before finally finding what he was looking for.  There was a sewage line that led from the center circle to the jail, a grate leading up to the surface right outside one of the cells.  Though it wasn’t the cell the two criminals had been placed in, it was right across from it.  Technically, a pony could sneak in through the grate, attempt to enter the cell from the outside using a teleportation spell.  If that was the case, however, why not teleport them straight out of the building once they’d left the cell rooms.  Most likely it was because the stallion who had broken them out wasn’t strong enough for multiple pony teleportations.  Then again, that was assuming the break in had even been perpetuated by a unicorn, or any magical creature.
He tossed the map aside, growling in frustration.  None of this made sense!  How had a pony snuck in from the front entrance and freed them, without exiting with them?  Even more confusing, why had they let the escapees exit through the front entrance, especially with how dangerous they were?  Was this supposed to be some kind of message, that these blockless ponies weren’t hiding in the shadows anymore, freeing themselves into the world and letting loose a contained monster?  Or maybe he was looking too deep into it.  
Maybe the guards had accidentally left the lock halfway open, easy for a professional criminal to finish pening up.  Perhaps there was no accomplice, merely the two brothers that had escaped custody, fleeing in a simpler manner.  The mare who had been beaten certainly attributed her brutal attack to the fact that they provided none of the requested luxuries such as magazines and books.  She also noted that they were rather frustrated with their predicament, heavily cursing the Blue Knight for catching them so quickly, and beating them so swiftly.  Surely that was all, right?  There was no further, heinous reason behind the terrible actions that had taken place in the late hours of the night.
Frustrated still, he stood and began to storm off, before Luna called behind him, “Don’t go out there and attempt to find them yet.  You’ll just make the worms burrow deeper.  You need a bit of water to draw them to the surface.”
“Thank you, Auntie,” Blueblood replied in exasperation.  “But I’ve been at this for a good while now.  I’ll take your advice, but I think the water they need to draw them out is me.”
Luna’s eyes widened.  “You don’t mean to give yourself up to them?”
“Hardly,” he denied.  “I intend to make it known that I live somewhere in upper Canterlot, one of the rich colts playing hero.  The rougher class of Canterlot citizens, and Equestrian citizens in general, rightly believe that they are tougher than us spoiled upper crust.  Unfortunately for these ruffians, that will be their undoing.  Once I draw them in, I have reason to believe that they will fall back into the constables’ possession once again.  They weren’t too smart, or too martially skilled.  I downed the two of them in five seconds and three words.  They only managed to beat the police force because they were fighting an unfair fight.  Now the tides turn against them.”
“If you say so,” Luna agreed doubtfully.  “I’m just… worried that one day, you won’t return the way you should.  Whether that be because of harm that has come to you, or harm that you’ve caused, I don’t know.  All I can say is that I’ve seen the devastating effects of both on a pony’s mind and morals.  It isn’t a pretty thing, nor something I wish to see happening to you.”
Smiling softly, Blueblood leaned in and hugged his aunt, muttering, “Thank you for your care.  It means more to me than I can say that somepony else here can understand my struggle perfectly.”
“Yes, and I’m glad that such a charming and noble stallion is caring over the ponies in a way I wish I could,” Luna returned, pushing her head into his mane before pulling back.  “Now, off on your way.  The hero of Canterlot has a long night before him if he wishes to bring justice to those criminals.”
With another tiresome sigh, he agreed.  “Yes he does.”
Leaving his aunt’s balcony, he quickly made his way to his own room, passing through the bland area and straight to his clothing drawer, where he took out the suit.  Putting it on hastily, he walked out to his own balcony, stretching out his legs before his night began.  With a final stretch, he made his fake wings and hid his glowing horn in the fedora.  With a cocky quirk of his lips from behind the mask, he flew onto the roof of the castle.  With a glance at the moon, he dove off of his mighty home, keeping his eyes locked with the moon on the way down.  
It was so strange, yet gratifying to see that there was no silhouetted figure of the Mare on the Moon, only the pale, slightly dented surface.  It was like staring at an old, round piece of marble, shiny, but old, missing chunks of it, yet still holding its position with incredible strength.  With yet another smile, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound of the wind rushing past him.  Loudly whooping into the night sky, he suddenly turned his body, spreading his false wings.
Move more naturally, he instructed himself, allowing the air to catch in the fabric, causing drag, and making him glide slightly in the air.  He felt his surroundings with the wind passing through his magic, following the little pathways of essence that fled from his horn, encircling little wind trails and leading to the ground to close below.  With a final great flap of his false wings, he landed, eyes still closed as he reveled in the adrenaline rush that followed the exhilarating experience.  It was magical, the exact reason that he was so strong and perky when he fought in the dead of night.  
Slowly, he opened his eyes, and was surprised to find that while he was indeed looking at the coast of the river, there was a second river blocking his view of it.  Lily River was standing merely a few paces away, staring wide eyed and jaws agape at him.  While he knew this was probably because of the near impossible, death defying stunt he’d just pulled for the fun of it, she was dumbfounded, simple staring.  
With a friendly smile, he said, “Ah, Ms. River!  I didn’t expect you to come viewing my stung again!  Any suggestions to help me be a better pegasus.  Or perhaps that was too natural, and I need to be a bit more jerky to replicate magical movement?”
“Uh, I… um….”  the mare trailed off helplessly.  “Yes?”
Blueblood laughed heartily.  “Well, thank you for your input!  After running into you so many times already, I’m wondering if either you’re following me, or I’m accidentally tracing you!  If the latter is true, please give me a good slap.  It’s considered ungentlecoltly for a stallion who has rescued a damsel to proceed to haunt her!”
“No no no, I came here for you,” Lily exclaimed suddenly. 
“Well, unfortunately, I don’t provide autographs,” he brushed off lightly.  “I have great business to deal with, and don’t want to  waste too much time with-”
“You read the news right, about the cops and the criminals that escaped,” she suddenly asked sharply.
This took Blueblood aback slightly, the quick cut off and sharp attitude.  Considering the last two times they’d met, she was a rather timid, almost girlish mare around him.  Now she was dead set on her question, shock and awe at his spectacle vanished from her completely.  There was something almost haunting about it as he answered, more sincerely, “Yes, I am.  The beating and violence caused by these criminals can’t go unpunished.”
“Perfect,” she said, suddenly bending down to the side satchel she had on.  Pulling out a piece of paper, she planted it on the grassy with a firm hoof.  “I’m not the best artist, but this is a drawing of the street I saw the three crooks in.  This third house down the lane from this circle center is where they were hiding out in.  I watched the three of them enter, and definitely saw the two criminals from before.  There was also a pure white stallion unicorn with them.  I think Prince Blueblood was the stallion, though I’m not completely sure, seeing as he looked a bit… older.”
It was Blueblood’s turn to be dumbfounded as he stared at the piece of paper under Lily’s hoof.  He saw that, while the drawing was indeed rough, he recognized the avenue name as well as the general diagonal shape of the neighborhood.  It was lower class, but not in the poorest section of Canterlot.  Alongside this, it was merely two blocks from the jail cell.  Close enough to be unnoticed, but far enough away that walking past the windows of nearby houses weren’t a danger.  Well, that is until the wanted posters were put out.  
In any matter, it was impressive what this singular mare had collected in only the night since their escape, but it brought up several questions.  There was a white stallion in the trio, and it was indeed a trio, that Lily was halfway convinced was Prince Blueblood.  However, this wasn’t a possibility, seeing as he wasn’t there that night.  Instead, it was indeed some third party intervening.  Or maybe just an accomplice that had been both unseen and unnoticed before.  In that case, Blueblood still had to worry about finding out how the three had managed the breakout.
“So,” Lily questioned.  “What are we gonna do?”
“We,” Blueblood stated firmly, “are going to escort you home, in case any of those stallions saw you, and ensure your safety.  Then, I will deal with them and bring them to custody by the end of the night.”
“But I found out where they were and how many there were,” Lily opposed.  “Besides, I can-”
“You can what,” Blueblood asked, dropping the novelty and becoming harsh.  “You can get yourself hurt, even foalnapped, trying to prove that you are not some other victim that can’t defend yourself?  You are some other victim, unfortunately, that is exactly what you are, ma’am, and there isn’t much you can do.  These stallions are more dangerous than you know, or think you know.  Rape is petty to them, I’m afraid.  If they even saw you, they’d be sure that you would have a very painful, bloody death.”
Lily’s pupils shrunk as she slowly backed away with tearful eyes, the intensity of his voice beating against her poor innocent head.  “B-b-b-but ponies a-aren’t able t-t-to do that.  Nopony has killed anypony else ever,” she protested weakly, in complete disbelief of Blueblood’s words.  
“Unfortunately, young one, there are those that are worse than the Timberwolves of the Everfree, physically lusting for blood,” he broke to her.  He hated revealing so much, but she was not the type to gossip the horrid words told to her by the Blue Knight.  
Slowly, she stumbled to the ground, looking dazed by the news.  Moving quickly, he brought her in for a hug, much like the one Luna had given him minutes before.  She made a surprised and confused noise, but Blueblood shushed her calmly.
“These are things you needn’t worry about though,” he encouraged.  “That’s why ponies like me exist.  To stop those who would harm others with or without reason.  You can go home safely.”
“No,” she moaned, to his surprise.  “No I can’t.  That neighborhood in the drawing is mine.  I live across the street from the very stallions that tried to defile me.”
> Chapter 7: Threshing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Laughing filled the air of the Canterlot streets as the children of the wealthy who were less assertive of their foals allowed them to play.  These children were the kinds that Blueblood wasn’t or at least, Prince Blueblood.  These children had been born with the silver spoon hovering a few inches from their mouth, with their parents demanding the slightest of effort to earn the labors of their life.  They were the children that were taught the stove was hot by touching it, and learned where foals came from by hearing it from the ponies on the streets.  The gruff colts and fillies that were spoiled secondly, learned firstly.  
And Prince Blueblood hated them.  They didn’t know anything, only what dirt on their coats felt like.  A noblepony shouldn’t waste their childhood floundering in the dirt with the colts and fillies of the streets.  It was terrible to have the influence of the thieves and liars of the city influencing the wealthy prospects of the upper class.  They would end up destroying all sense of class that Canterlot was built on, and that would only lead to the fall of all Equestria.  If this were to continue, the savage dragons and scrappy griffons may soon come to challenge the greater race.  
Blueblood almost laughed at the irony in the thought, and had to layer on an extra layer of filth to his scowl to cover up the hilariousness.  This was the thought that was shared with much of the older generation, and some of the radical younger generation as well.  The presumption that if the youth of today were touched by the influence of the street, their own corrupted ways would be exposed by “thieves” and “inferiors”.  It was funny that some noble would cause a fuss about having twenty or thirty bits stolen from them once in their life, an amount not even a fraction of their total wealth, when they themselves stole two hundred bits from hardworking a family monthly.  It was also why they hated the Blue Knight.
As of yet, four nobles had been stripped of their nobility because of their incredible fraud and bamboozlement of taxation.  There had been at least a dozen others who’d had properties or fortunes seized for their involvement in scandals involving regional taxing or leasing fraud.  A majority of the nobles were genuinely good ponies, or just rich enough that they were happy where they were.  Some were even naive enough to have never thought of conceiving a fraud plan in case their current earnings fell through.  However, it was the twenty or thirty that represented the corrupted faction that gave all nobles a bad name.  
Politics and economics, Blueblood thought with a dismayed glance at a clock hovering over a cafe.  Those two went hoof in hoof so well, and caused him the greatest trouble yet.  It was fortunate that thanks to the Knight’s actions, there was less activity, as many were scared out of their deceptive fraud.  Or they were only burying their crimes deeper, making them harder to sniff out.  He’d just have to check for overturned dirt, he recognized, sighing.  
He continued to hurry down the avenue, heedless of merchants calling out to him.  Many ponies knew who Prince Blueblood was, but not very many were able to identify him by his look. There were very few publications with his image on it, and save for the tabloids popular among the rich and upper middle class, there were few express articles focused on him.  What the common ponies knew about him was that he was a pompous stallio that was practically a foal in action.  He had no sense of care for anypony besides himself, and if something didn’t involve him, he would either ignore it or force himself into it, depending on the occasion.  That was the stallion they were allowed to see and the stallion Blueblood hatefully portrayed.
The occasion for his venture today was in fact a sort of scouting of the area around the house where Ms. Lily lived, checking for any back alleys and overhead passes he might use.  Unbeknownst to many of the earth ponies and unicorns, there were walkways built onto their roofs to guide pegasi from the air, and they could actually be walked on without disturbing the residents within.  This created a sort of exclusive road for more privacy for the weaker and smaller ponies, and also an excellent way to control street-to-air traffic.  Blueblood had happened upon the highway not too long ago, and had only just figured out how to use it and the exact pathways and extensions to it, along with the usual occurrence of others on the road.  Despite its purpose, many pegasi viewed it as segregational, and seeing as there was already a low amount of pegasi residents, many stuck to the usual streets.  
Right now, however, he wouldn’t be able to quite venture to the top of the roofs without being spotted in the broad daylight.  He merely had to wait a few hours for the sun to set, and then he would be able to continue his mission.  For the moment, he simply went about like any busy noble stallion, walking hurriedly, muttering venomous things under his breath as he bumped into other street goers.  Everypony he passed regarded him with a reserved disgust, recognizing him as at least nobility, but not quite who exactly.  All well and good, unless somepony got smart with him and decided to confront him directly.  Then there may be a problem.
If the escapees from the prison heard about a confrontation between Blueblood and another pony on their street, and then coincidentally saw the Blue Knight that evening, they would start connecting the dots.  So, he decided to turn the corner once he reached the end of the road, a frustrated huff accentuating his movement.  If anypony noticed, they would think nothing of it, but he knew that unless he fully delved into the stress he was trying to convey, some streetwise kid would ask what the gig was.  Slipping in between the two buildings that made the triangle tip of the block, he began traversing past their backyards, acting as if he didn’t care who saw or who followed.  Quite frankly, it didn’t matter anyways, but if somepony did get suspicious of a stallion in such a position as he going into an alley, they would be less likely to act on their suspicions if he were acting obligatory to the task.
He slowed his rushed pace down as he began counting down the houses until he reached Ms. Lily’s, having already noted which was hers from the night before.  It was incredibly concerning that the delinquents had already escaped and found residence, especially so since it was so close to the home of one of their enemies.  He’d already instructed Lily to rent out an apartment under the management of one of his friends in the nobility, paying for her time there.  He planned to eventually pull her into the castle somehow, but knew that doing so too soon would give away his identity as the Blue Knight, or at least tip her off of his involvement within the castle.  
With a slow pace, he approached the backside of the house, looking it up and down appreciatively.  It was a modest home by Canterlot standards, though still at least twice as big as the average Bittsburg home.  He glanced around for anypony else in the alleyway, or even anypony out on the streets happening to glance down, but there was nopony.  Keeping his watch keenly on the side that he had come from, he lit his horn and levitated himself upwards and next to the window of a room Ms. Lily had designated as solely her own, careful to keep the glow low.  He kept himself there as he studied the inside of it, taking a mental picture of the relatively messy interior.  After he’d collected a satisfactory array of data from it, and had finished memorizing the relative shape of the interior, and the contents on the floor and desk, he put himself down, checking the sides of the alley once again as he did so.
With nopony there to witness his snooping, he knew he was in the clear, and teleported himself away to a memorized location within his room.  Glancing at his clock, he figured he had about five hours before the sun began to set, giving him plenty of time to catch some sleep and check in on the situation with his Prince Blueblood “duties”.  With a deep sigh of contentment, he flopped onto his bed, taking only a brief moment to fall asleep.

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  The stallion was beyond angry, but he contained it behind a nice, four inch long cigarette and cloud of smoke.  The cherry scent only added to the false sense of relaxation he had in the moment, alongside the nicotine carefully packed into the cigar.  He puffed out a slow ring of smoke, admiring the view of the Canterlot street through the open window, bordered by the gray of the smoke.  With a long whistle, he watched a group of attractive young mares pass by, all among the middle class, though one was quite obviously richer.  They all eyed something across the street, muttering among themselves after their observations.  Curious, he followed their gaze, finding himself staring at Prince Blueblood, who was walking quickly down the street, scowling to himself and anypony that got in his way.
Now if that wasn’t the stallion to gossip about, he thought to himself amusedly, remembering the articles from the other day.  He wondered what content they would contain had he not intervened with the stallion’s idiocy.  Perhaps the story of how a mare had justly beaten the Prince of whoredoms, or maybe the story of how the adopted nephew of the Princesses had ruthlessly brutalized a mare in the streets.  Either would have been disastrous for both the Princesses and the Prince, and while he wanted to ruin the Princesses, they needed to be felled by their own actions, and not by a relative’s.  
Slowly, an idea formed in his head as the Prince turned the corner and left the street behind him.  The bastard was obviously very power hungry, and if not a little stupid and foolish, knew the hierarchy of the city well, better than him.  If there was any semblance of ambition in him, it would likely be easy to manipulate, as most ponies became carried away in the dream of the moment.  If he could somehow reach out to Prince Blueblood and get him to join their cause, even without being a bloody, they would gain a valuable asset within the castle, and an easy way into the palace, both physically and politically.
Smiling at the idea, he leaned back in his seat, staring up into the sky and releasing a puff of smoke.  He was a genius sometimes, but really all that meant was understanding the ponies around him enough to use them.  Even those problematic brothers were quite the useful pair of hooves when it came to rough encounters like in the police station.  There was not a better pair when it came to violent confrontations that the older stallion wouldn’t be able to physically handle at his age, and their usefulness was more than just brute strength.  The older brother was smart, not incredibly intelligent, but smart enough to read a situation and know what to do on his own.  The younger one was just straight up muscles.  
The cigar was almost out, so he snubbed it in an ashtray right beside his chair, stashing it away to finish it later.  Standing up with a huff, he turned away from the window and began slowly leaving his room.  As soon as he opened the door and entered the hallway, the faint smell of alcohol wafted up from the first floor.  Trudging down the stairs, he called, “You boys drinking?”
“Not much, sir,” the older goon answered back, his voice resignation from the kitchen.  “Only on our first bottle of the whiskey Brick bought, and he only bought three.”
“Not planning to get drunk, then,” the stallion asked as he entered the kitchen.  The brothers were sitting at a table, the younger one mid swig from his cup as the elder brother delt out cards.  
“Yep,” the younger one responded with a light tilt in his voice, his cheeks flushed.  “Still at large, ain’t we?  Wouldn’t be too smart to make ourselves drunk while them constables are out lookin’ fer us.  We was just gettin’ to another round of jacks.”
“Want to join,” the other brother casually asked, setting down the shuffled deck and beginning to split it three ways.  “We’re bettin’ shots on it.”
“Fine, but don’t try to take any extra outta the pocket cash,” the stallion warned, sitting down next to Brick.  “I might take it personally this time.”

***************************************************************************************************

Blueblood awoke to the dying light of the setting sun in his eyes, muttering a string of unrecognizable words that were meant to be foul, but just came out as disheartened grumbles.  He seemed to have once again forgotten to close the curtains to his balcony window, meaning that the sun had just the perfect angle to blind him.  Getting up and out of his bed, he strolled grumpily over to the window and threw the curtains closed, even though he knew that not even five minutes later he would be exiting them.  He needed something to slam besides his own hooves, and thick cloth would deal well with the severe movement anyways.
It wasn’t the fact that he was tired that made him grumpy.  In fact, he was more energetic than he had been when he’d woken this morning, but it was the manner of him waking up that  caused the dark mood.  Kind of funny how the sun, the brightest thing in existence, had caused so much darkness in this world and his life.  He harrumphed at the little thought, giving no lead to anything that would take away his sourness.  With a casual flick of his tail, he lit a lamp in the closet, pulling out the drawer in which the compartment to his suit stayed.  Pulling it out, watching it billow slightly from the motion, Blueblood stepped out of his suit, the one he’d gone to bed in, and wrapped the tight linen around him, placing the hat atop his head as well.  
Stepping warilly from his closet, he forced the curtains away, revealing the glass balcony door.  Without care, he pushed those open with his magic as well, walking through the door and into the setting sun.  He squinted against its harsh light, stepping to the side of the balcony and lifting himself up onto the roof of the castle.  He stepped carefully over the shingles on the roof, taking care to hide himself from outside view using the different angles of the roof.  
He stepped across the castle’s roof carefully, knowing how easily the tiles could shatter thanks to previous recklessness.  With a slow smile, he reached the edge of the roof, facing the sheer drop thousands of spans down with an anticipating chuckle.  There was a slight updraft from the wind flowing up the side of the mountain and along the castle’s walls, making it feel like he would float should he jump.  For a moment, he scoured the ground, trying to see if there were any figures at the bottom awaiting his fall, but he quickly realized that he wouldn’t be able to tell if a windigo were waiting for him from this high up.  With a careless shrug a his blood began pumping harder, he jumped.
Laughing, he turned his back to the ground, staring up into the sky as he fell.  He’d done this a few times before, either because he was feeling especially down or because he was especially happy, but he wasn’t quite sure what today.  There was just the tiniest bit of edge to him today as he knew that if he did indeed follow through with his plan to meet the criminals and escapees, it would come to blows worse than those usually thrown.  But even then, it didn’t feel like compensation enough for the trembling he felt in his heart, merely a weak excuse.
Perhaps it was because of Ms. Lily, and the usual protectiveness he had whenever he knew the name of one of the ponies he’d protected.  The danger that she was in was drastically different from any that the other ponies he’d defended had against them, seeing the exact potential for them to bump shoulders again.  Even with plans to have her moved to the palace somehow, he knew it was only a matter of time before either the poor filly got too curious for her own good or the villains happened upon her again.  The city was large in population, but give it enough time, and it certainly became a lot smaller.  
Or, perhaps, he was merely doing this to entertain himself, to push his luck once more and see what may happen if he were to test fate when fate needed no temptation.  Which was why, he quickly remembered, the sky looked too far away, the waterfall foam too real to be merely the effect of passing the rushing water so quickly. Almost panicking, he caught himself abruptly, muscle memory being the only thing that made him stick his artificial wings out and give him a slight flying effect.
He slammed into the water nonetheless, the sudden cold of it causing him to be shocked momentarily and release all of his air.  His back bounced lightly off the silt at the bottom, not at all harming him, but causing some slight alarm.  
With a large stroke, he pushed himself upward and out of the water, taking in a large gulp of water, though surprisingly, he was laughing heartily in spite of it all.  Of course the day when he was worried he might be injured, possibly fatally, by the most dangerous ponies he’d met besides himself would be the day he nearly killed himself in the stupidest of fashions.  The laugh was also somewhat relieved that he hadn’t actually hurt himself, at least no more than the stinging of his back from the impact on the water.  
When the rushing in his ears had faded, he was already on the shore, shaking off some of the water.  The sound of light clapping caught his attention as he turned to find Lily sitting not too far away with an amused smile on her face, her front hooves clicking together mockingly.  
“Cutting it a bit close, are we,” she asked teasingly.
“Not at all,” the Knight proclaimed.  “I landed in the river, exactly as intended.  My suit needed a good washing, seeing as how you can’t really walk down to the dry cleaner’s with the signature suit of Canterlot’s greatest hero!”
.”Well, humility is definitely one of your strong suits,” Lily continued with her taunting.
“You’re right, I needn’t be so modest,” the Knight agreed.  “I’m the greatest hero in all of Equestria, and trying to hide it will only hinder my progress to saving ponykind.”
“I thought the Elements were the greatest heroes in Equestria,” she rebutted.
“Ah, but notice how you said ‘heroes’,” he pointed out.  “I am but one noble stallion, and thus the greatest hero in Equestria.  Besides, they themselves have said that they are nothing without each other,” he pointed out defensively.  “I haven’t needed anypony to help me.”
“Fair enough,” she gave.  Standing up and walking slowly to him.  
“So, come to see the nightly show, then,” he questioned, taking off his hat and whipping it onto the grass to rid it of most of the water.  When he was away from Lily, he would be able to heat dry it.
“Well, you seem to come here every night, so I figure it’s the best way to make sure that I see you and am able to talk to you,” she admitted, looking almost embarrassed.
Blueblood dropped his light tone for a sterner one, saying, “Yes, that’s true.  But I do believe I told you to stay away from anything that involved those stallions that endanger you and others.”
“Well, that can’t include you, right,” she asked hopefully.
“Considering that I am the one primarily confronting them, anypony associated with me may become a target.  As such, by approaching me like this, you directly involve yourself with things you should no longer be involved in, seeing as you’re safe now.”  Not quite the truth, but close enough to be pushed as true.  
The young mare in front of him pouted, objecting his instruction as she told him, “They already tried to hurt me once, and they weren’t able to, so so far-”
“So far, they haven’t seen you,” he interrupted harshly.  “I’m not exactly sure what types of ponies these stallions are, but there’s a good chance that once they see you, they’ll make sure they get their revenge for putting them in prison.  You’re too brash for your own good,” he said mercilessly, remembering just the day before when she’d attempted the same brave face.  “It seems you don’t understand the real dangers you’re putting yourself in, so for your own good, I’m going to have to ask that you don’t return to this place, or anywhere the stallions appear.  Anywhere I or they are is dangerous, so please, don’t go looking for trouble.  This is your last nice warning.”
The mare seemed shamed by his words, her face red at the verbal threshing she’d received as she glared at the ground.  She suddenly turned, tossing a bunch of flowers to his hooves, storming off as she angrily called, “Here’s your stupid flowers.  Nice knowing you.”
“I’m sorry it came to this,” he told her softly, his heart suddenly aching as he looked away from the retreating mare and to the flowers she’d tossed at him.  They were a bundle of healer’s marks, a rather fresh assortment of the flowers.  He turned and gave Ms. Lily one last glance as she did the same, their eyes locking through the mask.  She sharply turned away and began stomping up the stairs and back towards the city.   With a sigh, he turned back to the flowers, lifting his mask slightly so he could retrieve one from off the ground.  Having grabbed the weak thing by the stem, he lifted off of the ground soaring into the air.  
He hadn’t even passed the second landing of the stairs when a familiar scream caught his ears.
> Chapter 8: Bloodied Masks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blueblood immediately lurched to the side, scanning the stairs below him, towards the bottom, where he knew Lily would still be.  Two figures had emerged from the shadows, and were wrestling Lily to the ground, near the edge of the landing they were on.  He couldn’t recognize the figures themselves, but instantly recognized the threat they posed.  Gritting his teeth, he pulled his mask back down as he loosened the grip he had on himself, allowing himself to drift into a guided fall towards the one holding her rear legs down.  As he neared, he cushioned himself slightly with magic bringing his hooves in to brace.
He landed sharply on the goon at Lily’s back, and instantly the snap of a bone breaking filled the air.  The stallion below him shouted in unfathomable pain, but Blueblood didn’t let up, bringing his hoof down on the back of the stallion’s head.  It smashed into the stone beneath them, and Blueblood watched in morbid fascination as blood suddenly spattered to the sound of the pony’s nose breaking as well.  Both strikes, the landing and the bashing of the stallion’s head, were apparently not enough to bring this one down, as he attempted to stand even with Blueblood on his back.  
The unicorn sidestepped a sudden strike from the first stallion’s accomplice, who wore a soft felt mask of some sort to conceal his identity.  He was sure now that they were both stallions from their heavy grunting, and the incredible roughness of their strength.  The other stallion attempted to strike him with a front hoof again, but instead of dodging, Blueblood slammed his own hoof right into the oncoming one.  The strike stalled both of them, but having been prepared for the contact, Blueblood forced his hoof to keep moving, pushing the stallion back and off balance.  Having forced the second stallion into an unsteady stance, he began a quick attack of his own.
He struck twice face level with the stallion before feinting a punch, instead following through with a hit of his own to his opponent’s knee.  The large stallion stumbled slightly from the impact, but the retaliation for the hit was quicker than Blueblood expected, the follow through uppercut catching his ear and sliding across his cheek.  The move was wobbly, however, and seeing this, Blueblood lunged in, landing a heavy strike to the snout.  The stallion scrunched up his face as he stumbled back more, and not wanting to allow his enemy any rest, he pivoted on his front legs, allowing his hind legs to swing like a fence, both catching the stallion across the face.  
The brief sight Blueblood got from spinning around allowed him to catch movement towards his right, where the other stallion had been laying.  He now ducked past a slowly thrown hoof, landing a strike of his own directly to the side of the head.   The shot went straight to his temple, and almost instantly the stallion collapsed, unconscious and bleeding.  Even as he finished off fighting one of them, the other landed a harsh kick to Blueblood’s flanks, a strike hard enough that he knew the spot would bruise.
Gritting his teeth, he stepped back, staring the stallion in the eyes through each of their masks, glaring in a way he knew this criminal would see.  He lunged first, striking for the softer parts of his legs and shoulder, trying to hit a muscle that would cause him to lose control of his limbs.  The stallion knew, however, and was able to lower himself so that when a hit landed, it was protected by his folded up shoulder.  With a grunt, the stallion struck back, managing to land a hook across Blueblood’s face through a block.  
Spinning with the blow, he turned his back to the stallion and reared forward, kicking both legs with as much force as he could.  The strike landed harshly on the stallion’s side as he realized all too late that he couldn’t block that powerful of a strike. He tumbled to the ground, Blueblood pouncing on him before he could stand back up, landing a hoof in his unprotected stomach. 
Laying down across the body of his foe, Blueblood attempted to pin the stallion’s hooves to his side.  He was able to grasp and control one, but the other slipped through and past him, striking him painfully on the top of his head.  Dazed by the powerful punch, he was unable to hold the stallion down any longer, and he stood up, shoving Blueblood towards the edge of the stairs.  He realized he couldn’t roll over and stand before the stallion attacked again, so he instead rocked forward, trying to land a weak strike on his enemy’s legs.  
The stallion merely stepped into the attack, raising the targeted hoof to dodge it.  He struck with that same hoof, hitting Blueblood’s raised head once again and knocking it back into the cold stone of the stair step.  The force of the blow caused his jaw to clench both naturally, and because of the pain.  A soft, almost sweet flavor filled his mouth with the clench of his jaw, and he realized that, in his rush to save Lily yet again, he’d forgotten he still had the healer’s mark in his mouth.  As both the juice and his own blood filled his mouth, he suddenly felt a keen sharpness grow in his mind.  
The other stallion was slowly getting up in obvious pain while his companion roughly shoved Blueblood to the edge of the stair, his head hanging over a respectable drop.  They were only at the first landing, but already he knew that if a regular pony were to tumble off here, they would be seriously injured, maybe even killed.  It was one of the reasons a millennia and a half year old stairs to the river were less used than a train.  The injured stallion began to hobble over to him, a grimace etched into his face as he dragged one of his hind legs behind him, glaring at the unicorn who’d done him harm.
“Well well well,” the stallion gloated, “looks like ‘n a fair fight, th’ great Blue Knight is eas’ly bested.”  
“Hey, I did all of the fighting,” the stallion pinning him down complained.  
“That’s why I called it a fair fight,” the previous stallion sharply retorted.  “Now be quiet.  I wanna see who in Celestia’s eva’ lovin’ Equestria this guy is.”
“I’m not too keen on just handing out my name,” Blueblood protested, suddenly wrapping his hooves around the two that held him down.  Both stallions looked shocked that he was even conscious after the brutal hits to the head, but Blueblood felt completely fine.  “I’d be glad to know your’s though,” he growled.
He suddenly pulled the stallion’s hooves, shooting his hind legs into the big earth pony’s gut, launching him over Blueblood’s head.  The stallion went over Blueblood entirely and began to fall towards the ground far below.  Before Blueblood could react, the other stallion jerked forward, shouting in pain and surprise as he too was sent off of the stairs, tumbling away with his companion.
Blueblood turned his head just in time to catch sight of the stallion passing him, then turned back quickly to where he had stood.  Lily was standing there now, completely petrified and a good bit pale as she stared at the ledge where the stallion’s had gone over.  Grunting, Blueblood stood and took a step towards her, reaching out a hoof and placing it on her shoulder.  
“Hey,” Blueblood said, getting no response.  “Hey,” he repeated, louder this time.  Lily shuddered suddenly and looked into his mask with terrified, trembling eyes, tears beginning to roll down her face.  Ah yes, the after effects of violence on normal ponies.  He’d only had to deal with this once before, and that time had left the poor pony rather traumatized.  Hopefully he could de-escalate this mare’s panic.  
Centering up with her, he looked her dead in the eyes through his mask and told her firmly, “You did the right thing.  That stallion would have attempted to kill me, and was definitely planning on it, and he would have harmed you as well.  Whatever you think you did wrong is no worse than what needed to be done for both of our own safety, you hear?””
Lily nodded almost absently, which wasn’t good enough for him.  Shaking her slightly, he yelled, “Wake up, you stupid mare!  Look at yourself, trembling like a leaf like you did some terrible villain, when it was the real villains you defeated!  Don’t go all hazy on me with your black and white vision of the world now, okay?”
The pink mare suddenly seemed to wake up, shaking her head to clear whatever was going on in her head before saying, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.  I didn’t do anything bad… unless I killed him…”
“If you killed him, then so be it,” Blueblood coldly told her.  “If you were more concerned with the life of that stallion than your own, you truly are too good of a mare.  Otherwise, don’t give it another thought.  If he and his companion are both dead, then it spares you, me and the constables a whole load of trouble.  Now come on, we should leave here.”
“W-What about those stallions,” Lily asked, glancing back to the ledge.  “Shouldn’t we… help them?”  
“No, we shouldn’t,” Blueblood answered firmly.  “You should go home and never see me again, and since trouble seems to have a thing for you, I’ll follow behind.  Then, if I feel merciful enough to give these idiots a third chance, I’ll come back to take care of them.  Otherwise, the constables are gonna have a good climb ahead of them.” 
“But, what if they die,” Lily protested.  
“Then the universe has given what they justly deserve,” Blueblood reinstated harshly.  “Now go, I won’t ask again.”
“That was commanding,” Lily grumbled, but she complied bitterly, turning and beginning to ascend the stairs once again, glancing at the ledge one last time.  
Shaking his head tiredly, Blueblood lifted himself up off the ground before beginning to fly off.  He watched from the air as the mare ascended the stairs, dodging her glances up to see where he was watching her from.  Slowly, he relaxed, and as he did, he felt the pain in his head dim the rest of the way as well.  Lily had said healer’s mark wasn’t actually used in any remedies, but apparently that was wrong.  As soon as he’d chewed the leaf, the juice had numbed the pain in his mouth, and swallowing it held the same results almost instantly.
Grimacing, he realized he still had the chewed up flower tucked against his cheek, something he’d learned to do when hiding sweets from caretakers.  Apparently his muscle memory had taken control, but not the disgusting flavor of blood and flower mixed in his mouth.  Pulling his mask up to free his face, he spat the revolting combination out of his mouth.  Feeling wetness on his nose, he looked down, realizing that Lily still wasn’t out of sight, and levitated himself behind a nearby cloud to finish pulling his mask off.  
When he looked it over in the moonlight, he was surprised to find that the mouth and part of the forehead were bloodied, a trickle of red running down around his right eye.  The fabric was soft, yet durable, so while it hadn’t torn, his flesh beneath it had.  Running his hoof over where the spot of blood on his forehead was, he found it sticky with drying serum.  Huffing, he realized that the stallion had broken flesh when striking him in the forehead, and now that his head was out in the air, he could feel the cool wetness of blood on the back of it.  Luna would surely have a heart attack if she saw the condition he was in right now, and the thought made him chuckle.  
Not wanting to put the bloodied mask back on, and knowing well the path the mare would take home, Blueblood decided to descend to the river below.  He travelled a few hundred paces out before descending, to ensure that neither Lily or the two goons that could quite possibly be alive identified him.  He aimed for and landed softly in the shallower part of the river, where it was a bit marshy.  Reeds stuck up out of the muddy bank, and slowly became submerged in water, the mud replaced by a smooth, rocky bottom that was hard to navigate with his hooves.  Still, he managed to balance himself as he washed out the mask in the cold water.  
When he was finally done, the mask was drenched and smelled slightly like the reeds scattered through the water, but it was clean.  Putting it back on, he had to resist the urge to shake his head to get the water off, an instinctive habit.  Shivering at the cold wetness that veiled his head, he turned to the cliff face that led up to Canterlot.  With a determined frown, he began to fly towards where he thought the pair of delinquents had landed after their fall.  
Approaching the first stairwell, he saw two masses on the grass beneath it, though only one was visibly moving.  It was the bigger one, the one that had pinned Blueblood down and given him the blows to his head.  The large stallion was attempting to push himself off of the ground, his breathing ragged and his mane matted with sweat.  Surprisingly, he didn’t seem too wounded at all, and save for the visible struggling he had, one could assume he was merely exhausted from  rigorous workout.  The perspective was not the same with his companion, who laid in a small puddle of blood, still unconscious from his fall.  Or perhaps dead, seeing as it didn’t look like he was breathing.
The large stallion noticed Blueblood’s approach, and growled, calling, “Come to finish the job, ya bastard?”
Blueblood pulled up short, coolly responding, “Depends on your cooperation.”
“Well I ain’t havin’ none a’ what you got, and ain’t gonna do whateva ya want,” he determinedly stated.  “Besides, ya ain’t gonna kill us.  Ponies have rules.”
“Well, like you, it seems I’m not a pony,” Blueblood rumbled, stepping up to the stallion.  He attempted to stand and look him in the eye, but Blueblood snapped his hoof forward into the stallion's stable leg, sweeping it and causing him to collapse on his side.  The stallion visibly gritted his teeth, and Blueblood realized that he probably had several broken ribs, and taking a look beneath the stallion real quick, internal bleeding, seeing as he had landed soft side on a large rock.  
“Now, I have two simple questions for you, and you both get to live,” Blueblood informed the stallion, who was once again attempting to stand.  “Otherwise, I hope you know how to swim in your condition.”
The stallion glared at him with the comment, but didn’t protest, too painfully aware that neither he nor his companion could survive in the river waters with their injuries.  “Now, my first question is who are you, and not your names, but who are you,” Blueblood clarified.
“We’re freedom fighters,” the stallion answered in an almost proud voice, too sincere to be a false or mocking answer.  “We’re gonna make sure ev’ry single one a’ us are gonna have  life like the rest o’ them regular ponies.  A life Celestia, ever blessed be her name, took from us.” 
“And who do you idiots work for,” Blueblood continued to question, unfazed by the short rant.
“A stallion,” the pony answered simply, finally standing.  With a contemptuous look, he said, “Now let us go.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Blueblood reminded him.
“Because there was no deal,” he protested, surprisingly calm.  Glancing down at his companion, a worried look crossed his face and he asked, “Do you think he’s…”
“Maybe,” Blueblood answered coldly, before raising his hoof and striking the stallion in the temple.  He crumpled back to the ground, unconscious.  “That’s the constable’s problem now.”
Without another glance at the injured pair, he flew off into the night, heading straight for the castle.  He was going to have a lot of work to do.
> Chapter 9: To Your Health
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stallion was furious.  Those damned fools had done it again, had stormed off on their own and had jeopardized him and themselves.  They didn’t know it, but he had been tracking them ever since he broke them out of the jail, trying to ensure that they wouldn’t end up in that sort of situation again, and yet they had.  Somehow, after hardly three days of freedom, they had managed to get not only caught, but beaten to a pulp, and now he had to deal with it.  Of course, he hadn’t been there physically for the situation to occur, but he’d seen it through the big one’s eyes, which were now closed.
He practically ran through the streets of Upper Canterlot, brushing past the noble ponies and their prissy foals.  He didn’t have any care for the judgement that they held for him as he passed, or for the fact that he was openly puffing a medium sized cigar.  Smoking occurred, though it was a private activity, even among the regular farmer folk, and certainly not something that you would do in the gelded streets of the capital city.  He didn’t care though, the light cherry scent in the smoke, the way that the smoke wafted away thinly, it relaxed him
But not enough.
He felt himself clench the cigar a bit too hard in his mouth, and loosened it, but felt the slight bend in the stump.  Damn those stallions, he thought angrily, puffing out a slow drag and holding the ruined cigar up with his tongue.  “Outta my way,” he growled to a pair of young mares who were uselessly chatting in front of a shop.  They both gave him a startled look, but they stepped aside, watching the white unicorn rush past.  It was dark out now, and it was hard to see where he was, but he’d been in the city before, and knew where he was going.  
He passed a stallion who was busy lighting the streetlamps, and from there he was able to see the road he was headed for.  He rushed past a couple of constables who gave him a wary glance, but he simply kept moving, pretending not to care about their presence in the area.  After a few more minutes of rushed walking, he found himself skirting the gates of the Royal Palace, walking on the sidewalk right next to where the fencing stood.  While there was almost no need for such protection in the modern era, it had been built in the past, almost a full millenia ago, much like the rest of the castle, and was maintained as a relic more than actual protection.  Still, it reminded him of the goal, the utopia he needed to create to live the life he was destined to never have.
Following around the outside of the castle, he came to the gateways to the steps, an arch with carvings dedicated to the image of peaceful travel and lightheartedness hanging over the first white quartz step.  He paid no attention to it, having already seen the images dozens of times before, instead rushing down the stairs.  While they were technically public access areas, there was an unspoken rule about the steps carved into the side of the mountain: You only went there if you were doing something you wanted nopony to know about.  Now, because the only two ponies he could trust went and threw themselves to the Timberwolves, he had to take them.  
Checking them real fast mentally, he could feel that they were both alive, though the smart one had been more damaged than his duller brother.  He growled, knowing that it would be almost impossible to get them back to their apartment unnoticed. They would most likely have to wait at the bottom of the steps for the two of them to recover somewhat before they returned.  He puffed his cigar one more time before spitting it off over the side of the cliff, barely noting the smoke trail from its tip.  Thanks to his magic, he’d be able to get them back to their residence by sunrise, but if whoever they’d assaulted called for the police, there would be trouble.
After several minutes of descending the stairs, he saw where they met the grassy ground at the base of the mountain.  His older body was exhausted by the quick trip down the stairs, but his mind was sharp and acutely aware of his surroundings.  Panting he paused, looking around for any indication for where they were exactly.  He cursed himself for not learning the night vision spell the smart stallion had been trying to teach him, squinting his eyes to pick up any sign of life.  Thanks to the dim light of the waning moon, however, he was able to pick out a soft sheen from the shadows cast by the steps.
He lit his horn ever so slightly, the light cast into the shadow revealing the forms of both brothers.  Immediately he noticed the blood surrounding the elder, smarter one, and the way he seemed to be completely motionless.  The other brother groaned and lifted his head slightly, uncovering a black eye and bruised face.  He squinted his one good eye as he tried to make out who was facing him, but the stallion soon recognized his boss.  
“Hey boss,” he groaned, looking up at him before laying his head back down on the ground shamefully.  
“Well this is certainly a curious predicament you and your brother have put yourself in,” the white unicorn tightly noted.  “Now I wonder how exactly two fine stallions such as yourselves could have ever found yourselves in such a strange and terrible situation.  Mind sharing why the two of you are in such a physical mess here, and who did this to you?  ‘Cause I would certainly like to know who’s risking our mission.  Other than you, of course,” he added coldly.
“Please sir, it wasn’t our fault,” the big stallion begged.  “We were just goin’ out ta get some more liquor when we happened ta see that mare that got us caught the last time.  Thorn an’ I decided to follow her from a distance, to see where she was goin’ and what was goin’ on with her, maybe give her a friendly visit.  She went down the damn stairs, and we thought for sure that we’d be able to catch her, but to make sure we wouldn’t get caught this time, Thorn put up some barriers at the gate and we put on the masks.  It took a while though, and by the time we started heading down, she had already begun heading up.  We figured we could just jump her and take whatever… information we wanted from her, but that’s when he showed up.”
“The Blue Knight,” the stallion angrily guessed.  “What happened then?”
“Well, he came from out of nowhere, just flying down from the sky and landing right on top of Thorn,” Brick recounted to him.  “I thought for sure he’d killed him, but he was still able to somewhat fight back for a bit, even though he’d had several bones broken.  I don’t know what exactly happened, but I was able to pin him down for a moment and beat him up a little, but next thing I knew, he launched me over the side.  For a moment, I thought I was gonna die, but I was able to land on my side instead, but I know I cracked a few ribs.”
“And you’re brother, what happened with him,” he asked ceaselessly.  
“Thorn came over only a moment or two after me, but he wasn’t able to turn over, so… he… he landed on a rock.  Or I should say, he landed on his stomach, on a rock,” the large stallion quietly corrected.
“Oh sweet Celestia,” the white stallion sighed, instantly walking towards the body of his other goon.  “Anything else, or did you both simply get beaten up by the Blue Knight without any sort of real reason?”
“He, uh, he came back for us after getting the mare to safety,” the stallion continued very faintly.  “He took my mask off, and I know he recognized me.  I’m guessing he somehow already knew who we were though, cuz he didn’t seem surprised.  He asked me two questions, and I answered them.  I told him I was a freedom fighter and that I worked for a stallion, and that’s all.  He thought I was bluffing though, I can tell.  He doesn’t think you’re real.”
“Well, that’s some good news,” the older stallion muttered, checking the pulse of the unconscious unicorn brother.  It was still beating, and rather strongly for how badly injured he was, which was a good sign.  He’d live at the very least, though the question of how still remained to be decided.  The first step, however, would be to deal with the internal bleeding in his stomach, caused by the fall onto the rock.  
Healing wasn’t a natural talent of magic, as it required the body to heal, and not mystical powers, but the body could be enhanced in its healing by the unicorn’s gift.  Breathing in deeply, the stallion built up the burning of his magic, harnessing it as the pure power that it was, before releasing it gently into the stallion’s stomach.  He used the energy to kickstart his body’s reaction to the injury and enhance its ability to reproduce and rebuild itself.  He increased the heartbeat of the stallion ever so slight, forcing the blood to flow quicker to fuel the process.  
He continued to force the process, repeating the cycle three times before he felt the body fully heal from the trauma of its landing on the rock.  The bruise still remained, but the unicorn didn’t bother with it, having only a limited amount of time and energy to deal with as much as possible.  He focused on the next worst thing he sensed, the broken shoulder from landing practically flat on impact.  He forced the bones together physically, hearing a sudden hiss of pain as the stallion began waking up from his unconsciousness.  He didn't force him back to sleep, simply holding the bones together as he forced them to reconnect and mend, the process sped up by the increasing heartbeat of his patient.  Finally, it seemed to heal, and the unicorn finished by sealing the skin where the bone had halfway penetrated from.  
At this point, he was completely exhausted, unable to continue for too much longer, but should they wish to return home, there was one last thing that they needed to do.  Breathing in as much as he could, preparing himself mentally, magically, and physically, he forced his remaining strength and energy into the stallion’s back, snapping the spine back into being straight and mending the crack in the bones.  However, knowing he wouldn’t be able to repeat such a draining process, he continued to force the flow of energy from himself, making the muscle regrow too, and keeping it up to try and reinforce his sprained ankle.  He felt that there was almost no change, but the little that did fix in his ankle was enough for him, and exhaustedly, he collapsed his own shoulders, sitting back on his haunches.
Sweat matted his face and mane, and he could feel the dampness of his collar, but otherwise he was fine.  His legs were weak at the moment, too weak to carry him, but after a few minutes of rest, he knew that he’d be good to go.  Most importantly, and gratefully, he didn’t feel too much strain on his magical reserves, and in fact, only felt slightly winded at worst.  At best, he had just warmed up, and was ready to continue, and with that thought, he felt personal pride.  He had made it a point to become more magically competent in all manners of the craft, whether in healing, levitating, teleporting, seer-seeing, or the forbidden art of combat.  By his performance just now, all he needed to work on was his energy, something that would be a bit more challenging for a stallion of his age.
He smiled as he breathed out.  This may have been a shameful defeat for his two allies, but from the information he’d gathered from their experience, as well as the practice he received, he felt that he was victorious.  Yes, this was indeed an important step in progress for him personally, but a step back in their grand plan, and that fact frustrated him.  
“What the hay,” Thorn drawled beneath him, looking up as he began to fully regain consciousness.  Recognizing the face of his friend, he murmured a small curse, knowing already the failure of his actions and the trouble he was in because of it.  “Thanks for the healing,” he grumbled, his voice a bit raspy from the ragged way he’d been breathing.  
“You and your brother seem to have a knack for attracting the wrong kind of attention from the wrong ponies,” the white stallion snarled to him, harsher than his younger brother.  He was more angry with Thorn for the way he’d allowed his own foolish vengeance to blind him than his brother, seeing as how he was much too intelligence to allow such things to control him.  “Would you say an attempt at revenge that was pitiful at best was worth the hundreds of hours we’ve spent planning for complete liberation and utter freedom for us?”
“No, not nearly,” the ashamed stallion firmly admitted, staring hard at the ground.  “I apologize for my bullheadedness.”
The stallion immediately attempted to stand, but his body was too exhausted by the healing process and was still weakened by his other injuries and simply stumbled back to the ground.  The bigger stallion rushed over, seeing his brother fallen, and bent over and lifted him up onto his hooves, keeping a steady grip on him.  Breathing in deeply, the stallion forced himself to stand, feeling himself begin to wobble before forcing himself to stand straight with his magic.
“There’s no need to discuss your failures; you know them well enough,” the stallion said simply.  “Come on, we need to move now.  The constables are surely on their way, and personally, I don’t believe any of us are in the proper shape to get in a full confrontation with them.”
“Yes sir,” the strong one agreed.  “I ain’t into bruisin’ my hooves on top of my face,” he attempted to joke, receiving no response from either of the two.  He silently began walking, following behind the white unicorn while practically carrying his brother along.  
They began up the stairs slowly, taking their time to prevent themselves from taxing their wearied bodies too much.  They moved in awkward silence, and he knew it was partly because both brothers were waiting for some sort of remark from him about their foolishness.  He didn’t make any though, because, quite frankly, he didn’t have one.  He was too blinded by the success of his healing and that it hadn’t taken him nearly so long to recover physically either, as well as being too tired, to add to the few words he’d spoken to them.  He would let them wait in silence for a response to never come, and that would be their punishment for the moment.
In the meantime, he had to plan out how exactly he was going to break the news to him about adding a fifth member to their team.  They had just barely added a fourth member to them, the young red mare with a fiery temper, but there were still talks about more like them joining, but they hadn’t been able to find another bloodied, save for the young mare, and realistically, four ponies, one too young and another almost too old, were nothing, even if they weren’t weakened.  In a way, by achieving the freedom they wanted to be themselves, as well as the basic releasing of themselves into society, they were improving everypony.  So they would need somepony who was normal on their side, or at the very least, in support of them.  He guessed Thorn had already guessed as much was needed, but they had no way of knowing who he intended to incorporate into their plans.
He smiled at the thought of their reaction when he announced that it was Prince Blueblood, the Decadent Prince of Canterlot that may be the key to their salvation.  He almost laughed, even, when he thought of how their first conversations might go, having had his own experience with a youthfully stupid stallion himself.  Why, the very thought of Scarlet’s face turning incredibly red as her eyes narrowed on him with that threatening charm almost got him.  Instead, he composed himself to the more official side of that sort of arrangement.  While he guessed that the young unicorn only had loyalty to himself, he needed to ensure that Blueblood wouldn’t slip up and reveal them.  It was all too possible with the dullness of the boy’s brain and clumsiness of his words, and making preparations for such occasions may be necessary, but he hoped not.  
Breathing in deeply as they ascended the last step, the whole group pulled up short, halting as they were greeted by dozens of constables.  They surrounded the gateway, blocking any way for them to continue to the city itself.  The stallion didn’t even attempt to turn and run, as moments later several pegasi swooped down from the sky and landed behind them, blocking off that escape.  They were surrounded on one side by a sheer drop and another by a face of gruff stone, enemies from the front and back.  For a second, neither side made a noise, each staring at each other hard, gauging each other's strength, and the white stallion gauged theirs as weak.
“Surrender peacefully right now, vagrants,” a voice suddenly called from behind an artificial barrier, their voice amplified.  “We don’t want to fight here, but you can see we’re well prepared for it.  Surrender peacefully, and the incarcerations will be diminished greatly.”
Breathing out, the stallion began smiling, shaking his head as he began to approach the entrance, motioning discreetly with his tail for the others to stay put.  With a slight gale to his voice, he called, “Good sirs, as you can see, we aren’t the suspects here, but the victims.  The one who did this to us was a crazed mare who-”
“Suspect, stop where you are and get on the ground,” the voice once again commanded, interrupting him.  “You are under arrest for attempted assault and public disturbances, and if you do not comply, resisting arrest.”
“But sir, I wasn’t at the scene of the crime when it occurred,” he protested, still maintaining an almost berating, cheerful tone.  “I was merely passing by when I saw these two young stallions gravely wounded on the steps of the stairs.  I was assisting them back to the hospital, not participating in whatever occurred on those steps.”
“The report did say two gruff stallions,” the older stallion overheard a cop whispering to the voice behind a barricade.  After a pause of silence, the voice called out again, “Step away from the suspects.  Police will interview you for your evidence, and your testimony will be used in court for or against these vagrants.”
“I don’t wish to step away from my friends, though,” he commented stupidly.  “Surely there’s no harm in me-”
“Stand down or you will be arrested for illegally intervening with a police case,” the voice harshly projected.
Breathing in, he let out a false sigh of defeat, calling back, “Okay, fine.  I’ll comply.”
As he stepped aside, several of the police rushed out of their positions, past him, and at his co-conspirators.  Before they could finish passing him, he let out his breath, igniting the magic in his horn and catching the seven of them in his grasp telekinetically.  Breathing in even deeper, he drew more from himself, but not from his magical reserves, but from his very core.  He pulled it out from the depths of his heart and pushed it into his horn, the bright light and powerful arcana heated up the air around him.  He felt himself vibrating, and saw the terrified eyes of everypony in sight, though that was being obscured by the blinding light.
He began to feel his grip on the vast amount of energy he was grasping, but he held on to it as long as possible.  Then, at the last moment, he released it.  
The blinding light spread out, rushing like a wave in all directions, blinding him wonderfully as the white light burst free.  He watched in wonder as it thinned slightly, allowing him to see it ram into everything and everypony around him.  The ponies he had held in his telekinetic grip were launched sideways and into the gateway.  The gateway itself trembled, the top being blown off completely, the stone that had made it shooting out towards the constables.  Several had to duck away from the pieces of rock, but even they were caught in the blast as well, flying into their barriers.  
Panting, not out of exhaustion, but out of excitement, he turned to where his comrades would be.  He hadn’t quite been able to tell where the blast would go, or even really what it would do, and was now partially worried that his attack would have hit them too.  Thankfully the two of them had gotten to the ground when they saw their boss charging up the attack, and were beginning to stand now that it was over.  The both of them looked around in amazement and fear, seeing the power that he had used to help them escape once again.  Their eyes both locked on the sight of the constables’ bodies scattered across the ground -unconscious from a variety of wounds- and the destroyed gateway arch, which now was simply two pillars of stone with jagged, uneven tops.  
With a smile, he asked, “Shall we?” 
> Chapter 10: You're (in) Danger
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blueblood felt incredible.  He didn’t know why precisely, but because of the events of the night, he felt spectacular.  He had saved ponies before, gotten into physical fights before, and had even suffered a bruise here and there, but the thrill of fighting somepony like him made his heart practically vibrate.  The feeling of accomplishment, of satisfactory victory filled his bosom, and he couldn’t help but feel proud that this somepony had witnessed his full potential.  Even if he had told that pony to never see him again, he couldn’t help but like he now had credit to the prowess he boasted to the city non-verbally.  
Still, his face hurt a bit, and he needed to do something to get the bloodstains out, along with ridding his mouth of the bitter, disgusting taste of blood and healer’s mark.  He landed on his balcony, feeling some satisfaction knowing that tonight he wouldn’t be needed any further in the case of these two criminals.  He had left the constables with plenty to find and little to work out, which meant an easier night for the two of them.  Pulling his mask off, he shook his damp mane out, throwing the window-doors open and allowing himself entry into his room.  
Stepping inside, he tossed his mask towards the bathroom, landing it in the entrance.  Slumping down onto his bed, he let out an exasperated breath, before taking another one in and slowly letting it out.  He needed to relax himself from the after effects of the fight and let his muscles loosen up.  He began to stretch his hooves out on his bed, using his magic to start the water in the tub, activating the valve without looking at it.  He’d only just learned the useful, but difficult, practice, and used it as much as possible to build up his magical strength.  Physically, he was much better equipped for skin to skin engagements, but in the arcanic spectrum, he was far weaker than a vast majority of the palace’s guards, who he secretly watched practicing and compared his own strength to.
They were some of the best sorcerers in Equestria, and half the time they spent as palace guards, the other half as scholars.  That was what it was like with most of the guards, having their life be partly as a guard, the part as whatever other profession or hobby they preferred.  He knew some that were sports players and others that were artists, but mostly they spent their time as fathers and husbands.  None of them really took their job seriously, or at least suspected that they would ever have to truly defend the Princesses from other ponies.  They were mostly around to prevent ponies from going where they weren’t supposed to or showing off for foreign delegates.  In fact, he suspected that for the past millennia, none of their weapons had ever been built to be lethal.  That was modern Equestria, a land where the only real soldiers wielded sharp-looking sticks and wore fancy clothing that looked like armor.  
Things were changing though, Blueblood knew that.  Whether it was because of those two stallions, or the fact that Luna was back, he felt everything in Equestria beginning to shift unevenly.  But he was only worried about Canterlot for now; the newly named Elements were strong enough to deal with the blunter, national threats than the intricate ones in the city that required knowledge of such a place.  He knew that he would one day have to be more than Canterlot’s defender, seeing as how ever since his debut as the Blue Knight, crime rates had dramatically increased in other cities.  
While some were just foolish or idiotic attempts to catch the Blue Knight’s attention, there was one particular string of incidents that had proven to be intentionally aligned.  The crimes so far had only taken place in Baltimare and Manehattan, but the group that caused them were obviously primed to spread.  Once again, the identities of the two stallions he had fought came to his mind, and he frustratedly sighed, knowing that there was no accurate way of knowing who they were or who they were working for without somepony else identifying them.  And quite frankly, they did have pretty forgettable features, which didn’t help at all.
He had put his two cents into the case for the sheriffs of both cities, and had reviewed the case files with excruciating detail, and in the end came up with the same conclusion as them.  The vagrants were a tightly-bound group of ponies who knew what they were doing and had been planning for these robberies and break-ins.  However, the nature of their actions was only truly recognized by himself, seeing the true danger these ponies posed.  They were violent variants, just like him, but they hid it well in their actions, playing off any injury as an accident, maybe even having a few authentic accidents as well.  They knew their strength and weren’t afraid to use it, but also knew that they needed to conceal it.  Shaking his head, he reminded himself that he was supposed to be bathing, not brooding, and stood from his bed, walking over to the bathroom.
Right after he had stripped the rest of the suit off and placed it in its hidden cubby, he heard the sound of the balcony windows clattering open.  Raising his eyebrows, he called out, “I’m in the bath!  Don’t come over here!”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby, nephew,” an exquisite feminine voice returned.  Luna rounded the corner as he finished sinking into the slightly steaming water.  Thinking quickly, he ducked his head underneath the water, soaking his mane and allowing it to fall in front of most of his face, obscuring the slight swell of where he’d been struck in the face.  There wasn’t anything Blueblood could do to hide his bruised side but slide a little to the right, making it harder for her to be able to detect the wound.  
“Come now, Blueblood, no need for such theatrics,” Luna chided teasingly.  “It’s not like we walk around without such stylish outfits anyways.  Besides, there’s so many bubbles in that bath that you might as well be halfway in a cloud.”
“Yes, but I do remember that Celestia taught me that every part of my body needs cleaned when I’m in the bath, and I’d rather not like to wash the less foal-appropriate parts in front of my aunt,” he returned jokingly, raising a leg slightly out of the bubbles to get his point across.  Luna’s eyes widened slightly as she looked away sharply, making Blueblood laugh.  “Not that I don’t want to be in your company,” Blueblood politely added.  “I would just like to do it in a less… private environment.”
“Well, I would leave you be, but I haven’t been able to catch a single word with you since the night of the Gala,” Luna explained, her voice becoming more worried.  She looked down at the ground and began levitating something from off the floor, adding as she displayed his bloodstained mask, “And then, as if to make me worry more, I find this.”
Blueblood realized far too late that he’d left that vital garment out of the pile he’d haplessly shoved in the compartment, barely preventing himself from smacking himself in the head for his stupidity.  He simply looked away, snatching the article from her grasp with his own magical one, tossing it aside as he gruffly mumbled, “That’s nothing, Luna.  Just some remnants from a fight a few… days ago.”
The lie didn’t even last a second as she lifted his damp mane where it covered half of his face, revealing the swell and cut on his head.  “And when was that,” she sharply questioned, a small fury growing in her eyes.  “A few days ago as well.”
“No, that was tonight,” he angrily confessed, looking Luna in the eyes.  “But it’s no big deal.  This happens all the time, Luna, so don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she commanded suddenly, using her Equestrian voice on him.  He shrunk back slightly as his aunt attempted to regain her composure, her angry eyes slowly widening as she realized what she'd just done.  She shamefully turned her head aside, muttering, “I apologize, that was too much.  I’m just… I’m worried about you.”
“It’s fine,” he muttered stiffly, still looking away from his aunt.  Taking a deep breath, he began to explain, “Luna, I do this every night, and while most of the time I don’t run into any real threats, there are those rare cases where I do have to fight for my life.  Tonight just happened to be one of those nights, and I came out mostly fine because I’m prepared for these situations and the dangers they pose to me and my surroundings.  I know you’re trying your best to remember, but I need to do this because I’m not normal, and by being the Blue Knight, I don’t become one of those goons out there.”
“I know, I know,” Luna slowly replied, stepping closer to the tub of water, stirring it with one of her front hooves.  “I just… you’re my first friend since I returned from the moon, and you have to know that I love you like a brother for that.  I’ve seen too much from my time before I was banished, and being stuck with only those memories up there, it makes me hate anything to do with violence on a personal level.  I hate seeing your forehead bloodied, your mask bloodstained, and your body bruise.  Each one hurts me inside, because I’ve seen ponies without their skull, or have their muzzle removed, or have any number of weapons stabbed into them.  I can’t bear seeing that happen to you either.”
“It hasn’t, and I can promise you, Luna, that it won’t,” Blueblood swore.  He looked up at his aunt and gave her a small smile of encouragement.  “You know yourself the dangers that were from your age aren’t as many or as extreme as they are now.  Just let me handle my job here, and if you feel the need, try to dissuade me from doing anything that you truly think I shouldn’t.”
Luna smirked in response, questioningly citing, “‘From your age’?  Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“Well it’s a pitiful one if it is,” Blueblood stated.  “Celestia literally knows how many stallions have attempted to make advances on you since your return.  The word of the common ponies is that you look too young to be Celestia’s sister, and a good deal of them suspect that you may simply be a long lost daughter of some sort.”
The two of them laughed at the ridiculous precept, but the disbelief in the return of Celestia’s sister was far and wide throughout the kingdom.  It had taken many different accounts to bring the vast majority of the population to the belief of the almost mythical truth.  It was harder to convince ponies to see the unbelievable truth than it was to lie to them about who Blueblood was.  
“You know, I may have to use ‘Prince Blueblood’ to scare away any wannabe suitors,” Luna suggested smartly.  Blueblood smiled at her use of the more modern word, intentionally noting her development in transitioning from older tongue to modern language.  Suddenly, Luna gave a resigned sigh, levitating her crown off her head and placing it on one of the multiple shelves.  Slowly, she dipped herself into the warm water, which had ceased steaming by now, sharply exhaling from the sudden heat.  Her eyes were pinned closed as she had to adjust herself to the warmth, and she seemed to be forcing herself to stay in the water.
Blueblood chuckled, stating, “You’re lucky this isn’t my ice water bath.  I only take those when I feel like I need them, and while I probably need one after the scuffle I had with those goons, I needed warmth.”
“And you’re telling me this because…” Luna asked, opening a single eye as she began to relax in the water.
“Oh, just reminding you to count your blessings,” he snarkily replied, settling comfortably into the water as well. 
Suddenly he was grasped around his head by Luna’s magic, getting his face dunked under the water by her.  He came back out of the water calmly, breathing in silently as he resurfaced, shaking his mane out.  “Really,” he asked simply, quirking his eyebrow at Luna.  she giggled childishly, answering, “Well, after the fright you’ve given me tonight, you des-”
A soft, rumbling boom interrupted her.  The grumble suddenly increased in volume, eclipsing every sound Blueblood had ever heard before by its sheer, thunderous roaring.  A surge of energy pulsed through him, sending every single hair on his body straight, his horn glowing dimly as the magical energy produced by the wave overwhelmed the palace.  
He looked over at Luna with wide eyes as another feeling overtook him, no a physical feeling, but a feeling from the heart: hate.  He felt it pulse through his blood as his heart beat, felt the pull of it on his mind, the want to fight, the want to destroy overcoming him.  It was unnatural for so many, but to him, the feeling was supernatural, a culmination of the worst and most repressed emotion he had that others didn’t.  It didn’t comprehend immediately what happened, but a sudden flash of light  from outside revealed what possibly could have happened.
As soon as the overwhelming hate ebbed enough for him to think, he stood up and stepped out of the bath.  He forced himself dry so quickly that the steam burnt the undersides of his flanks and neck, where it was caught.  He levitated the mask to him and pulled it on with his hooves, retrieving the rest of the outfit from the compartment telekinetically.  He put those on to within a matter of seconds, not caring if it currently fit too tightly.  There was a danger out there far more powerful than anypony could imagine, and if it meant sacrificing his identity to understand, it would be well worth it.
‘Blueblood, where are you going,” Luna suddenly called, standing up in the water as well. 
He didn’t even turn around as he pulled his fedora on, replying coldly, “You felt how powerful that was, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“And you felt the hate behind it,” he asked, spitting the word hate out venomously.  The fedora was on.  Time to go.
“I did, and that’s why…”
“That’s why you can’t stop me from going,” he concluded for her, softening his voice.  He turned back to her for a brief second, then instructed, “If Celestia is somehow still asleep through that, get her up and tell what just happened.”  Concentrating for a second, he attempted to pinpoint the exact casting location, but the residue from the magical strike was so thick and spread that he was only able to guess that it was outside of the castle, but not in town square.  Maybe a little towards the… 
The gates to the Stairs.  Horsefeathers.  
“Whatever happened happened at the gates to the Stairs,” he hastily told Luna, rushing from the room and towards the balcony.  If Luna responded, he didn’t hear it as he once again opened his balcony windows and dove towards the ground far below.
> Chapter 11: Greetings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blueblood soared through the air, spreading his false wings and swooping around the breast of the castle, following along the structure and rounding it swiftly.  He had never really noticed how large the palace was before, but now that he was trying to hurry around it, he felt the dimension of it.  Grunting as the extreme maneuver taxed his reserve and body, not being naturally used to the force of gravity on him in flight, he finally finished going around the castle.  Swooping down as quickly as he could, he searched for the gates that overlooked the Canterlot Steps.
For a moment, he couldn’t pick out the titular stone structure, but then he suddenly realized that the arching gateway was now only two columns of stone, the top of it torn away.  He observed the surrounding area, noting the couple dozen bodies that littered the floor, alongside broken stone and overturned roadblocks.  Furrowing his brow in concern, he drifted down for a landing, gliding into a walk as he touched down.  He landed next to one of the fallen ponies, which he immediately recognized as a constable thanks to their uniform and equipment.  Glancing around, he noted that every other body was also a constable and not a civilian, which meant that, hopefully, none had been nearby when the explosion had occurred.  None appeared to be seriously injured, and everypony seemed to be alive, so he guessed that the intent of the blast was simply for concussive purposes, and not lethal.
Some of the constables were already attempting to stand, including the chief of police, Hard Break.  They were grunting as they stood, one of their hooves held up, obviously being wounded somehow.  Blueblood rushed over to the chief, giving them a shoulder to put their weight on as they stood.  The pony took a moment to scan his mask before smiling slightly and asking, “So you got your fill as well, then?”
“No sir, simply got a bit of it,” he replied smartly, smiling behind his mask.  “I had to come back for seconds though.  It seems I once again have to do your job.”
“I was doing it just fine,” they retorted as they put weight on all their hooves, standing straight.  Meeting his eyes, they said, “You were the one who opened up this can of worms.  You’re just using me to clean up the mess, which you never made sure was all the way done.”
“So it is those two stallions from the night of the Gala then,” he asked conclusively.
“Yes… and no,” they answered.  “There was a third pony with them, a white unicorn stallion.  He was kinda resistant to us, said he was a friend of those brothers, but at the same time he wasn’t outright aggressive.  It wasn’t until we actually went for those two that he did anything to stop us.  I couldn’t see because I was hiding behind one of the barriers, but I heard a weird buzzing noise, and then it started rumbling.  I’m not sure what happened, but the next thing I knew, this electric zapping struck me as I was thrown -along with the barrier- almost twelve spans away.  I was unconscious before I even hit the ground though.”
“Do you have any idea where they may have gone,” he asked, knowing full well that they didn’t have the time from when the blast was released to now to escape to their safe house.  
“No clue other than into the city,” they once again answered solemnly.  “You can’t take these guys alone though.”
“You can’t take them on in general,” he shot back, feeling the danger that was presented by the recounting of the chief’s experience with the blast.  They hadn’t felt electricity but raw arcs of magical power, and the fact that they were powerful enough to shock a healthy pony out of commission was terrifying.  “I have an idea where they might have gone,” he told Break, turning towards Lily’s neighborhood.  
“Of course you do,” they muttered.  “Do you want me to send some of the force to help you recapture them?”
Thinking for a moment, he tried to think of a situation in the confrontation where the dangerous stallions didn’t try to use the normal ponies against him.  There wouldn’t be one.  
“No,” he firmly responded, lifting himself off the ground.  “If I manage to capture them, then I’ll bring them to the palace cellars, since one of them would be too powerful for a magical restriction and normal cell.  If I don’t come back from this… don’t let them know who I was.”
“You don’t really think that…” a firm glance from Blueblood silenced the chief’s comment.  “Okay, I promise you I’ll do everything I can to keep them from knowing who you are, but if the Princesses get involved…”
“Then they’ll know,” he curtly responded.  With a quick salute to the chief, he took off into the sky, soaring over the mansions of the Canterlot upper crust.  He didn’t quite have the city memorized in his head, mostly large chunks and certain neighborhoods within them.  Thankfully, the neighborhood that the criminals were hiding in was one of them, seeing as it was directly connected to the main markets of the district.  
Reaching his destination, he dove, scanning the ground for individuals, and indeed, a group of three stallions along the sides of the street were one of the ponies out in the early hours of the night.  The sight of two horns and the sign of injury on two of them confirmed their identities, and he aimed decisively for the white unicorn that stood slightly in front of the other two.  He was about to strike the stallion from the back like he had so many other unsuspecting enemies when the stallion suddenly turned, shooting a beam from his horn.
Blueblood was caught off-guard by the sudden attack, having seen no visible preparation for the strike, and was only able to form a halfway done shield before the beam hit.  The power behind it shattered it almost instantly and practically halted him in place.  He grunted as he had to form another  shield as a second strike immediately followed, though this time it withheld the blast.  He had just enough time to decide that being in the air was bad before the next strike hit, though this one was longer, straining him as he had to reinforce it several times.
In the time before the next strike hit, he dropped himself, landing harshly on the stepping stones of the street.  The action was obviously unnatural for a pegasus and this time it was the opposing unicorn who was caught unawares as he charged up his own attack.  The unicorn formed a shield around himself and his two companions, one made of bright white light that looked as thick as stone.  Realizing that the strike he had prepared would be useless, he held it back, instead coursing the energy into his limbs, instead choosing to shoot forward physically.  He rushed at them, closing the short distance fast.
The white unicorn stepped aside, allowing for the big earth pony to attack Blueblood.  He ducked past one of the punches, answering it with a punch of his own in the stallion’s breast.  The area was hard to defend with the awkward structure of a ponies body, and the strike easily landed in the soft spot.  The stallion didn’t even flinch as he leaned forward, shoulder-ramming Blueblood and sending him in the air.  Blueblood controlled his body, and with the help of a magical tug, managed to flip and stick the landing.   The stallion didn’t stop though, attempting to headbutt Blueblood, charging like an angry bull. 
Feigning sideways, he punched his hoof out in the path of the stallion’s charge, hitting him directly in his ear.  The blow knocked him sideways and off balance, causing him to slam face first into the stones of the sidewalk.  Blueblood spun out of the way of a sudden attack from the unicorn before shooting a beam back at him.  The second unicorn retaliated, managing to deflect the blast away from his companion.  Meanwhile, the first unicorn had charged a responding attack, firing it towards Blueblood’s face.  He dropped to the ground under the shot, and realized that the large earth pony was standing once again, preparing to rejoin the fight.  
Gritting his teeth, he stood sharply, launching himself off of the ground and to the side, slamming into the stallion and grazing his shoulder with his horn.  The feeling of blood on his horn was strange and unusual, but he didn’t have time to comprehend it as the stallion wrapped his front hooves around his neck and attempted to pull him down.  The stallion hadn’t expected for there to be no resistance from Blueblood, resulting in him overcompensating and losing his balance, landing harshly on the ground with Blueblood on top of him.  As the stallion wheezed from having the breath knocked out of him, Blueblood rammed his carpal into the stallion’s side, feeling the skin give behind the force.  
The stallion’s grip loosened as he was weakened by both impacts, which Blueblood took full advantage of, tearing himself out of the sturdy grip.  There was no time to do anything as he was suddenly lifted telekinetically by the white unicorn, the second one preparing to hit him with a beam.  In a split second, Blueblood wrenched one of the nearby lamp poles out of the ground, sweeping the other unicorn’s legs out from under him.  This, in turn, made Blueblood drop as the white unicorn’s focus was broken and the telekinetic hold to break.  The second unicorn attempted to redirect the beam to where Blueblood now lay, but his response was quicker, continuing to spin the pole, making it hit the stallion in the side.  This flung the stallion over and into the wall of the house they were fighting by.
As the unicorn slumped to the ground, the first one was standing up, his eyes beginning to glow as Blueblood turned to face him.  He felt his eyes widen at the sight of the stallion’s horn glowing brightly, a strange, swirling white mist beginning to excrete itself from the horn.  Realizing that the stallion was attempting to charge another massive wave, he knew he had to interrupt it somehow.  He was about to swing the lamp post again, but a sudden force from behind slammed him in the back.  Crying out, he was pushed forward by the force, and knowing that it was the stallion he had still yet to beat, reared his hind legs and kicked out viciously.  The counter strike found purchase as he felt his hind legs meet a force attempting to stop the strike.  
Feeling the impact and the body behind him stumbled backwards, spun around, spinning the lamp with him, spraying oil everywhere as the base of it struck the stallion in the head.  The pole bent in slightly at the impact, and the stallion lurched over to the side, instantly knocked out by the force of the strike.  Knowing he had no time to turn back around and hit the stallion, he blindly threw the pole behind him.  Somehow the lamp struck the unicorn, who let out a painful, strangled sound which was suddenly overcome by a thunderous roaring.  For a second, Blueblood feared the unicorn had released the blast anyways, and braced himself with a shield.  When the blast didn’t come, however, he looked over to the unicorn hastily.
The unicorn was writhing in agony, somehow still standing with the lamp post in front of his hooves.  Arcs of power were shooting out of his horn and striking him in the sides and along his back.  His eyes were glowing brightly and his mouth was stuck open, allowing Blueblood to see that even his throat was glowing brightly.  He was captivated by the sight of the stallion being completely overtaken by the magic he had been trying to use.  It took a few seconds, but then the horror of the situation kicked in, and before he even had the thought of saving the stallion, he ran up towards the unicorn.  
He had never used his horn to redirect magic, mostly because it required somepony to be shooting magic at him, but either way he stepped up to him.  Taking a deep breath in, he tapped his own horn against the other unicorn’s through the fedora.  Immediately, he felt the energy and power of the horn transfer to his own, and in a moment of panic, he shot it upwards and into the sky.  Blueblood felt the arcs all begin to connect to his horn as he shot charge after charge of magical energy into the air in bright whites and flashes of blue.  Before he knew it, the arcs had ceased completely and the stallion’s horn was once again normal.  
Blueblood stepped back, suddenly feeling exhausted as the unicorn slowly slumped to the ground.  Panting, he looked around, realizing for the first time that there were other ponies on the street, ponies who had just witnessed the Blue Knight battling real criminals.  For a moment, everypony stared in awe at him, and then, one by one, they began to stomp their hooves.  Soon the sound of clacking hooves filled the air of the street as the locals applauded the Blue Knight’s heroic deeds.  It didn’t take long for cheers and whistles to fill the air either, and behind his mask, Blueblood smiled, letting out a tired sigh.  
The other two were still unconscious against the stones of the sidewalk, meaning that he might finally be done fighting tonight.  He chuckled to himself, knowing that he’d never had that thought before, nor did he ever think that the day would come when he’d have to fight for so long.  He turned back to the crowd as they suddenly quieted, and it took a moment for Blueblood to realize why.  To his right, where the stallion had been slumped against the ground, presumably unconscious, the unicorn stood tall, looking not even slightly affected by what had just happened to him.  
“The Blue Knight at last,” the stallion muttered, his tone almost reverent.  Blueblood took a step back, giving them both a bit of space.  “How unequivocally impressive,” the stallion stated.
“Yes, I try,” Blueblood replied tonelessly.  “And you are?”
“An unimportant stallion,” he replied evenly.  “One who only wishes to change the world.”
Before Blueblood even knew what had happened, he was being launched backwards, his chest feeling like it was about to burst.  He landed roughly on the stones, sliding along them for a few spans before stopping.  Gasps omitted audibly from the crowd as Blueblood stood, eyeing the stallion defensively.  His horn was lit now, glaring angrily at the older pony, who also had his horn ready for a fight, though he was much more calm in his demeanor.  Suddenly, Blueblood felt pain on his back, a sudden strike of heat and unbearable pain on his flank joining it.  
Yelling in pain, he turned to find himself on fire, the oil from the lamp being lit by the other unicorn.  Knowing that the burns would be bad if something wasn’t done, but also realizing the greater danger, he sucked in the next cry of pain, instead focusing on his horn, forcing energy into it.  In one sweeping movement, he released the beam from his horn, allowing it to flow like a river.  A river of destructive magical potential being put to use.  
It slammed into the unicorn, throwing him back against, and then through, the wall of the house, the pulsing sending a sort of pleasing satisfaction through him as he used his birthright.  He felt himself turning, and the moment felt so fast, but it took so long to do so, the destructive beam tearing through the walls and windows of the houses along the neighborhood, causing them to burst into flames.  The unicorn slowly came into sight, his shocked expression at the pure energy flowing out from within Blueblood’s core encapsulating the moment in his mind.  The unicorn was still attempting to set up the perfect barrier to protect him from the might of Blueblood when the beam collided with his magical shield.
A beautiful display of lights flashed all around the point where the two met, blues and grays and whites all flashing and sparkling as energy and magic collided.  Blueblood stopped moving, allowing his beam to persevere and thrive through the fanciful, beautiful, majestic display of power.  He breathed out, and a visible pulse in the stream of white, flowing magic appeared, rippling through the entire beam until it made contact with the shield.  The entire beam shattered on the shield spreading out and melting it away, little bits of magic falling away and vanishing from sight, ceasing to exist under the might of Blueblood’s power.  
It took a moment for Blueblood to realize that he stopped his flow of magic, and several more to spot the stallion on the ground attempting to get up as his shoulder smoked.  He was clenching his teeth, trying not to fall to the ground as the Blue Knight stared him down.  The scene would have been too dark to see at this point in the night, save for the fire that burned the houses beside them.  The unicorn’s eyes flickered in the flames, and a deep, resonant respect filled his eyes instead of the hate and anger Blueblood had suspected would overtake him.  The stallion stood up completely straight and nodded respectfully to Blueblood before promptly turning around and beginning to walk away.
Before Blueblood could do anything to go after the stallion, he felt the burning on his back, the immense pain that it was causing him.  It was worse than simply a few dots of tiny embers on him now, as he could feel the flames chewing at his neck.  He attempted to swallow back the cry of pain he was trying to let out, the sound coming out as a strangled groan.  In a moment, he had shot himself up into the air, hoping the sudden wind would put out the flames.  It did, but the burning was still there, persistently causing him pain and making his focus break.  He stuttered in his flight through the air, his speed breaking and halting from time to time as the pain overtook his thoughts.
He headed straight for the Canterlot Waterfall, shooting through the air at breakneck speeds.  As soon as he saw the cool blue water below, he allowed himself to begin to lose altitude.  He miscalculated however, as he was unable to focus once again on controlling his fall, or making himself fly.  For all intents and purposes, he was once again merely a unicorn, and a badly wounded one at that.  Crying out in frustration, he tried to focus on his horn, but the burning on his back was too great a distraction, and he continued to freefall.  If he hit the water without slowing, he would die, and he knew this.  
Grimacing, he turned over in the air, his back to the earth below, allowing the wind to whip across his back.  It hurt, hurt like he was being sliced on top of being burnt, but that was the intention.  He screamed with pain, but forced himself to think, think about how he was going to die, or he was going to live, and the deciding factor was whether or not he forced himself to focus.  He wanted to only focus on the pain, as if by acknowledging it, it would magically disappear.  That’s not how magic worked though.  This was how it worked.
He felt a calmness suddenly, the thought that he was dead, and that pain was only temporary.  It would disappear eventually.  He just had to survive until then.  
Mustering the last bit of his energy, he pulled himself up, slowing his fall until at last, the cool of the water hit his back and he could finally die in peace.  Floating to the surface, he felt his mind drift off, and slowly, he felt silt beneath his hooves.  He walked up the bank of the river.
Had he been walking all along, he asked himself, collapsing to the grass below.  
No, he hadn’t. He’d merely been surviving.  
Blueblood passed out right there.
> Chapter 12: Help Him
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment that Lily had arrived home, a loud explosion had sounded throughout the entire street.  Her base instinct was to run to the source of the sound, but she knew the trouble she would get into if once again disobeyed the Blue Knight’s orders.  So instead of going and attempting to see what the big deal was, she stayed put in her house, knowing that now there was nopony wanting to kill her across the street.  It was probably fifteen minutes later that, to her horrible surprise, two very familiar stallions had begun strolling down her block, the view from her table through the living room window letting her see all.
She was prepared to run out to the alley behind her house, to escape to her sister’ for the rest of her life, but then something happened.  The Blue Knight reappeared, diving into them like a hawk onto its prey.  She watched in fascinated fear as a fight commenced, and for the briefest of moments, she  thought for sure that the Blue Knight was going to falter, and be defeated.  Instead, something even worse occurred.  As the hero was lit on fire, she watched him snap, bright light culminating around him and his head, an attack preparing magically.
He gathered his strength and spread his wings, but instead of taking off to retreat, he launched a massive beam of searing light at his opponents.  He watched it envelope one of the stallions before eating away at the houses just across the street from hers, leaving half of them to go up in flames as it made its way slowly to the newest stallion, a unicorn.  The stallion seemed to barely last a second before being overwhelmed by the blinding, burning ray, vanishing for a second.  Impossibly, the stallion survived, having the audacity to simply stand and nod at him as if it was a respectful duel before turning and walking away.  
At that point, both of them looked invincible, one having survived the most destructive display of magic and the other being completely on fire.  Then the Blue Knight let out a heart wrenching shout of pain and flew off, his back smoldering gruesomely.  The other unicorn didn’t look back, but after several steps he stumbled, and before anypony could confront him, he vanished, most likely teleporting to somewhere safe.  It was only after the two combatants had vanished before anypony on the street had moved, running to help the other two stallions.  
It was at that point that Lily had run from her house to make sure nopony was in any of the burning houses.  The smell of it all was horrible, burnt flesh and whatever else was burning, blood somehow on the sidewalk.  Everypony who was there saw it though, the result of a stallion being completely unprotected when he was hit by the deadly arcanic beam.  The point of contact was so destroyed that there was nothing to burn, just charred ground and a strange, disgusting clump of black.  It didn’t need further inspection by anypony to know that it was the stallion, his body completely burned.	
It wasn’t until a few minutes after the confrontation that the police and fireponies arrived, quickly shooing everypony away from the scene and fire.  That night she had ended up going to her sister’s anyway, washing off the smell of smoke and burnt flesh for almost two hours in the shower.  Amber didn’t need to even ask why she had shown up so late, Lily’s disheveled state and haunted eyes said it all.  
In the morning, Lily went to the flower shop in a daze while all around her ponies marveled at what had happened the night before.  All over the street and wherever there were seats ponies were holding newspapers, tabloids, and articles, all with headlines depicting an artistic interpretation of the police encounter with the mysterious white unicorn or the fatal duel between the unicorn and the Blue Knight.  There were no photos of the burnt body of the stallion who had died, and in fact, from the bit she read while opening the shop, the only mention of the two were as the original criminals the police were after.
A telltale line of smoke rose from the six houses that had been burned down as part of the encounter.  Luckily there hadn’t been anypony inside, as much or the street she lived on was uninhabited in general, but the potential risk of civilians being hurt in an encounter between the Blue Knight and the unicorn was frightening.  It proved that there was still true danger in the city, but it also proved that the Blue Knight was capable of defending them from it.  And it proved without a doubt that he had been truthful to her, that he was facing a real threat and that it wasn’t the only dangerous thing she was dealing with.
His words haunted her now as she thoughtlessly sold bundle after bundle of flowers for all sorts of reasons, none of which she tried to discuss like she usually would.  Her sister picked up on it almost immediately, but said nothing until their lunch break, where she firmly instructed her to leave the shop in her care and take the rest of the day off for her sake.  
“I swear, if you don’t leave in the next three minutes, I’m gonna close the shop for the day,” Amber threatened firmly, not a hint of teasing in her voice.  “I know you were caught up in all of the craziness of last night, and obviously you didn’t sleep a wink last night.  Your eyes are so baggy I could put flowers in them and call it a bouquet!  I know that the news was really upsetting and the sight was moreso.  You don’t have to be ashamed to take a quick mental break.”
“Okay,” Lily agreed, feeling hollow as she remembered for the hundredth time what the articles had said about the Blue Knight.  They had named all sorts of causes for the tragedy that occurred last night, but almost every paper, including the major ones, had come to the conclusion on three things.  One, that the Blue Knight was, without a doubt, a fourth alicorn, the only explanation for how he had managed to both use magic and fly away.  Two, they had firmly come to the conclusion that he was also the reason that both a stallion had died and a fire had broken out, dubbing him a murderer and arsonist in spite of evidence otherwise.  Third of all, they had concluded he was dead.
Nopony, they claimed, magical or not, could have survived the burns that he had sustained from the fire lit on him.  The burns were both too severe and too widespread that if he had survived the flight away, he would have died suffering from continual damages done by the burns.  Some speculated that perhaps he had entered shock while in flight, one of the most deadly situations for a winged animal to suffer because their wings could lock up too much or relax and lose their speed too quickly.  Already searches by the police were being conducted, for the first time by any officials, for both the strange stallion’s body and identity.  Above all else though, everyone was preparing for Celestia to address the topic in a press conference in front of the palace, where the media and city would be listening.
Considering the time of day, Lily decided she would go catch the speech and whatever else involving the Blue Knight, hoping beyond hopes that she would hear something that proved she hadn’t been bamboozled like everypony else by a wisecracking stallion with evil intentions.  There had to be some relief from the shock and betrayal she was feeling, that everything was just a misunderstanding.  Whenever she tried to defend the Blue Knight however, the image of the wrinkled black clump of what used to be a living, breathing stallion flashed across her eyes.  She wished that she could simply go back in time and never walk down that alley, never risk her life, and never meet the confusing stallion that was the Blue Knight.
She ended up making the conference just in time to take a seat in one of the front civilian rows.  After about half an hour of just sitting and waiting, the seats provided were completely crowded, as was most of the street and rooftops around the plaza.  Lily could barely see past the crowd of journalists, reporters, and photographers that were waiting to catch the Princess’ words on the suspicious matter.  Shortly after the crowd began to restlessly move around, Celestia herself appeared in the doorway of her castle, deliberately taking her time walking down to the podium at the front of her gates. 
The Princess knew how to control the crowd, and the crowd knew it too, because as soon as she had begun descending to the gate, they were all silenced.  Once she arrived at the podium, the remaining standing reporters sat, allowing for Lily to see the Princess directly.  Her eyes were tired, but also sorry, the news she was bringing them obviously not the best concerning the night’s events.  
With a deep breath, she spoke into the microphone.  “At approximately eleven twelve last night, a loud explosion could be heard from almost seven miles away, and a bright light could be seen from almost twenty miles away in Ponyville.  The occurrence was a magical outburst by an unnamed white unicorn stallion who is now wanted for various crimes we will further discuss, including disruption, illegal arcanic uses, and public dueling.”  There was murmuring in the crowd after the last incarceration was named as many ponies had never even heard of the legal violation before, including Lily. 
Raising her hoof to face level, the Princess reestablished order, continuing unfazed as she emotionlessly stated, “the Blue Knight it also wanted for these charges, and more.  A warrant for his immediate arrest has been commissioned by myself and Shining Armor, Captain of the Guard, for charges of arson and suspected predetermined homicide.”  At the announcement, the entire crowd roared as civilians either yelled in agreement or discontent at the proposition of the Hero of Canterlot’s arrest.  Reporters stood abruptly in front of her, cameras flashing as questions were called out from every other pony who wasn’t shouting about the injustice or justice of the judge.
All among them, Lily sat stunned, the final confirmation that the stallion she had so quickly been hypnotized by was truly guilty of the things she’d seen.  She let out a slow breath as order was being reestablished by both the attending officers and the Princess herself, slumping down in her seat as she attempted to let acceptance settle in.  It just all felt so wrong to her, like something was out of place about the whole situation that she couldn’t name accurately.  The way he talked, remembering it all… there wasn’t a hint of evil in it, there couldn’t have been any.  He was only ever firm with her, and never because he was  outright disdainful of her.  
Right?
“Please, everypony, I know the news is shocking,” Celestia suddenly called out to the crowd and media.  “Nopony is found guilty of any of these charges yet, and as far as we know, the real Blue Knight has not come forward.  Nopony has been checked into any hospitals for burns, and the Blue Knight has not been spotted since last night.  It is suspected that he will no longer appear so publicly, or at all now that he is wanted by the law.  However, in further detail, the three stallions were all criminals of some sort, a gang, we suspect.  The two stallions the constables were originally sent to arrest had broken out of their cells two days prior and had severely injured two of our brave police officers.  Furthermore,  thirteen officers were injured last night, with three needing hospitalization for their wounds.  None died in either confrontation.  The stallion who was killed by the Blue Knight was one of the wanted criminals and had only an hour earlier assaulted an anonymous individual that the Blue Knight would not name.  However, we had solid evidence of the attack thanks to their injuries from their previous confrontation with the Blue Knight.”
“What do you think of him, your Highness,” a reporter suddenly asked, expertly realizing that the statement had been made open for questioning.  
“What I know of this stallion as an individual is very little, other than that, prior to last night, he only ever harmed outlaws in self-defense or defense of others,”  the Princess levelly stated.  “I suspect that he had not measured the power of his own arcanic attack, resulting in the death of the wanted stallion and destruction of several homes.  Personally, I believe that we must pursue him with the law, but let us not forget the endless good he gave the city prior to last night and the safety and security he brought.  I know I won’t, especially if the case comes forward with new evidence of the mysterious white stallion.”
“Are you saying that the Blue Knight won’t be incarcerated for his crimes,” a mare suddenly asked from the other side of the seats.
“Not at all,” Celestia replied firmly.  “I don’t take the death of any of my subjects lightly, whether criminal or not.  The Blue Knight killed a stallion last knight and destroyed several ponies’ homes, and he must pay for the crimes justly.”
“How do you suppose you’ll sentence him,” another reporter questioned.
“We don’t have any solid agreements yet in the law, but I assure you that punishment will be received,” Celestia claimed.  “In my many years as your Princess, I have never dealt with a case like this, so it will be a great responsibility to deal with, but even heroes must obey the laws of our nation.”
“When was the last time somepony was killed by another pony,” a pegasus stallion inquired.  “There have only been very rare cases of pony-on-pony violence, and even rarer are the lethal results from such incidents.  How do you plan to proceed from here?”
“The last time that a pony was killed by another pony, to our knowledge, was two hundred and thirty seven years ago, when a madpony escaped his asylum,” the Princess informed the crowd.  “Since then, there have only been twenty seven incidents of pony-on-pony violence of notable damage, though almost all of them are incidents from the Hooffields and McColts.  Otherwise, there had been virtual peace among the pony interactions with each other.”
Lily swallowed hard at the news.  It had been so long ago since a pony had been killed by another.  Why was that what the Blue Knight had gone for, then, almost immediately?  Did he know something they all didn’t, some darker secret about the stallion that made the trio infinitely more dangerous than anything out of Tartarus.  
“Anywhere I or they go is dangerous,” the Knight’s voice said in her head.  She shuddered.  Had that merely been a warning for her safety, or was there a darker connotation, one that implied that he knew his own dangers and didn’t want some mare hindering his progress.  But what goal did he have that he couldn’t do now.  He obviously was powerful enough to steal whatever he wanted, living or not, and having the ability to fly meant that he could be anywhere he wanted.  There was no real challenge to him either, and with his public image so good, the stallion behind the mask could have easily come out and ran for whatever office he desired and win any election.  Except there was one office he could never have… 
No matter what, he never could be a monarch over Equestria.  Not unless he was Celestia or Luna’s secret son, and even then it would require them to die in order for… 
Lily froze completely, chills running up and down her at the stunning, chilling, haunting speculation.  Nopony in Equestria that actually wanted the Princesses dead, and there hadn’t been a notable attempt to electively seize the throne for decades.  The very thought that their beloved rulers might be killed felt completely foreign and absolutely terrifying, making her want to squirm.  How such a horrifying thought could come to her about somepony that the whole city had loved just the day before, she didn’t know.  If only she hadn’t ever gone down that stupid alley and met the scariest pony in the world.
“Is the Blue Knight an alicorn,” a voice, not a reporter’s, suddenly shouted from the crowd, and surprisingly, Celestia turned her attention to the singular civilian who had called out and not the reporters clamoring for more answers.
There was, for once, a flash of uncertainty on Celestia’s face, and after a moment of consideration, she admitted, “I have no idea.  Previously, we thought that Luna, Cadence, and I were the only alicorns, but we may be proven wrong by the Blue Knight once again.  All I can confirm is that he is a stallion that will have his crimes justified in accordance with the law.”
“Is the Blue Knight dead,” another voice from the crowd asked, several voices joining in and demanding for an answer.
Once again, Celestia seemed to hesitate uncertainly as she came up with an answer.  The Princess visibly took a deep breath before stepping back up to the microphone and stating simply, “Presumably.  That is all.” 
As the Princess turned away from the podium, the crowd jumped to their feet, reporters and civilians alike calling out for more answers, but Celestia kept heedlessly walking.  The chills running up and down Lily were overwhelming, and in a slight panic she too jumped to her hooves, though instead of shouting for the Princess, she simply pushed through the crowd until she broke through.  When she emerged from the mass of equine bodies, she found herself facing the remains of something she’d begun to find familiar.  
The archway that hung over the Stairwell was destroyed, the arch and top part of the pillars were destroyed completely, the rest of it cracked and crumbled slightly.  The sight was unnaturally depressing, that something else that represented her undefined relationship with the Blue Knight was damaged as well.  She looked away from the sight, intending completely to leave and go back to her sister’s house, but something stopped her.  
Police tape blocked off the first step, meaning that the site was closed off, and nearing ever so slightly to the barrier, she saw some of the steps themselves were cracked as well.  Her brows furrowing, she looked around, realizing that both the police and Palace Guard were now attempting to calm and dissolve the unruly crowd of ponies demanding answers.  Their attention completely to the larger mass of ponies, they had left the area unguarded, and, taking the opportunity, she ducked under the tape and swiftly descended the stairs.  She felt for the briefest moment a sense of danger, but it was whisked away as she continued her descent out of sight and down the mountain.
In the short moment she had put her full weight on one of the cracked stones, she felt it crack ever so slightly beneath her, but the rest of the descent was almost normal.  The sun was barely beginning its own descent as noontime came and passed, meaning that, for what felt like the first time in her life, she was walking down in warmth.  The roaring of the waterfall soon filled her ears, and quite quickly she noticed that everything was normal.  She didn’t know what she had been expecting, or why she’d even expected anything out of the ordinary at all, but nothing strange was going on.  The water still flowed beautifully, the grass was luscious green, and flowers glowed brightly in the warm sunlight.  It looked like the one place in all of Canterlot that hadn’t been disturbed by the previous night’s events.
She finished her journey down the stairs, looking up at the impressive waterfall that fell from the clouds above.  Sometimes it felt unbelievable how quickly somepony could travel so quickly down the expansive staircase, but she knew that it was primarily because the steps themselves were mostly a straight climb up and down with only two landings that changed the direction the stairs climbed the mountain.  The stone face of the mountain was dotted with random patches of dirt and moss, even little shrubs where the nutrition could be found, all of it lightly sprinkled with stray droplets of the falling waters.  There were two other waterfalls besides this one, a bigger and smaller stream that didn’t fall all of the way before being caught in little outgrowths of the mountain, making them less impressive.  This waterfall came on the face of the mountain that some claimed to have been sheared off during Celestia and Nightmare Moon’s epic battle.  It was strange to think that nopony cared for it now.
Suddenly, a brief, almost completely silent noise pierced through the various sounds of the beautiful scenery.  It was a short, almost refrained gasp of air that she recognized instantly as not only equine, but feminine.  Furrowing her brow curiously, she finally took a look around her, and found, to her greatest surprise, herself catching a glimpse of a purple tail whisking out of sight.  It was unmistakable now that she wasn’t alone, and allowing herself to trust in fate once to not put her in danger, she decided to investigate her fellow pony.
“Hey, I saw you,” she called out, attempting to sound friendly.  “There’s no need to be shy about it!  Come out please!”
“You aren’t a constable, are you,” a timid, but clearly adult, feminine voice questioned.  
“Far from it.  I’m a florist,” Lily attempted to joke disarmingly, flashing her cutie mark in the direction of the hidden figure.  “My name’s River Lily, but you can just call me Lily.  What’s yours?”
The hidden figure slowly stepped out from the shadow of one of the stair steps, looking almost shy about appearing.  “My name’s Lavender,” she told Lily demurely, her sharp golden eyes scanning the area for anypony else.  Lily was slightly taken aback by the unicorn’s beauty, a strange yet soothing calming collection of her soft bodice and coat coloring giving her a youthful, stunning appearance.  “Is there anypony else around?”
“No, it’s only me,” she assured the obviously younger mare, gesturing back to the stairs.  “I snuck away, down here.  I needed a place to think, and not very many ponies take the time to come down here, so I thought I’d be alone.  What brings you here?”
“Uh, I just… needed time to think as well,” the mare stammered nervously, glancing behind her before clamping up and looking back at Lily.  “Just a little thinking.”
Lily raised an eyebrow and asked knowingly, “What’re you thinking about?”
“Stallions…” the mare tried, obviously lying now.  “You?”
“Well, personally, I was thinking about last night,” Lily answered, probing the mare for some of the wilder possibilities first.  As soon as she had said those magic words, the mare’s pupils had shrunk.  “Particularly the Blue Knight.”
If there had been any words to set the mare off, it was those, because the moment Lily mentioned the Blue Knight, Lavender paled.  
“Okay, what’s going on,” Lily demanded, stepping up to the young unicorn.  
“Nothing,” she cried in vain, trying to block Lily’s advance.  Giving the mare a sideways glance, she pushed her aside, turning to look in the shaded area Lavender had glanced at.  What she saw instantly shattered her firm resolve to discover what was going on, even though she had begun to suspect it.  
The Blue Knight was slumped in the shade, his back to her, leaving her to behold the gruesome display of the injuries he’d sustained from last night.  His back was burned badly, the skin either an angry red or deep, dried black, not quite charred, but very close.  Most of the costume had been burned away, and his entire back looked like it was burned, but surprisingly, he was breathing deeply.  His face was completely covered still, the mask looking hauntingly like it had every other time she’d seen it, the soft blue eyes now eerily emotionless.  She had to take several steps back as she stared at the stallion that had taken over the entire city’s focus.
“Please,” Lavender suddenly spoke, stepping between her and the perceived enemy.  Their eyes met, her golden pupils shining with tears, a pleading quiver to her lip.  “Help him.”
> Chapter 13: Do or Die
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lily had only a few seconds to put together a plan of action as she stared into the desperate mare’s golden eyes, but she still managed to conceive something out of thin air.  The only things they had down here that could technically be of use medically was the water in the river, though if they gathered enough moss, they may be able to use it to clean the wounds better.  The wound looked at least partially treated, not completely untouched, which meant the mare had been here for at least long enough to wash it.  Taking all of this into account, she took a deep breath, her eyes darting between the mare and Blue Knight. 
“Yes, yes, I’ll help,” She agreed, beginning to walk towards the unconscious form of the Blue Knight.  “We need as much water as we can get on him to cool and clean the burns.  Go grab some moss and I’ll see if there’s a way I can drag him closer to the water.”
“No, you go grab some moss,” the mare demanded, sounding ever so slightly paranoid.  Lily briefly glanced back, and while the mare still looked nervous as all get out, she was intensely staring at her.  “I’ve been here for hours and haven’t left him out of sight for a second of it.  I don’t know you and neither does he, and I don’t trust you enough to not try to sneak a look beneath the mask.  Besides, you sound like you know what we need, and I don’t have a clue about what we’re trying to do.  It just makes more sense.”
After the shortest moment of hesitation, Lily realized the mare’s point, and nodded.  “Fine, I’ll go get some moss.  You see all of the flowers around here?  Try to squish one up and force him to eat it through his mask.  He doesn’t need to eat it, but the bitter juice in it could help wake him up.  If he’s awake, he’s alive.”
The mare nodded as Lily began running to the cliff wall, where she knew a majority of the moss would be.  Indeed, there were large clumps clinging to the jagged, water-worn wall of stone, and she tore away large swaths by the hooffull.  She took as much as she could, knowing that even though she might not need it all to clean and artificially dress the wound, it would help with keeping the stallion hydrated.  Rushing away from the wall and falling water to where the river wasn’t so tumultuous, she rinsed the moss in the river, removing as much of the potential dirt from it as possible.  
When she was satisfied that the moss wasn’t completely contaminated, she took the stock and ran back towards the stairway.  As she got closer, she saw the white-coated mare crouched down besides where the Blue Knight lay, though she was unable to make out what she was doing thanks to her angle of approach.  Rushing up to the duo, half-expecting mischief from the mare, she instead found her soothingly rubbing the stallion’s side, the furthest point from the burn she could reach.  The sound of Lily’s approach halted her movements as she turned to face her.
Showing the large quantity of moss she was holding to the mare, she instructed, “Lay the large pieces on the burn and let it cool them over time.  I’ll help administer water to his face and ensure he isn’t overheating and help him rehydrate.  Is he conscious?”
“Somewhat,” Lavender answered, taking some of the longer strips from Lily.  As she laid them gently on the stallion’s back wounds, she explained, “He was responding to me, but it was more like he was still asleep and simply reacting.  There wasn’t any talking or anything, just physical reaction to whenever I touched him or talked to him.  He may have tried to say something though, but it may have just been groaning in pain.”
Lily nodded curtly as she brushed past the younger mare, bending over the Blue Knight.  She could hear his deep, ragged breathing, and became even more concerned.  What if the burns had somehow reached his lungs and were affecting his breathing, or perhaps they had caused damage around the lungs and they were filling with fluids?  Shuddering at the gruesome thought, she forced herself to sit beside him, keeping her eyes firmly on his masked face to divert them from his grisly back.  Putting her weight on her back legs, she used her front hooves to squeeze the water out of a smaller piece of moss and through the mask where she guessed his mouth was.
Blessedly, the Blue Knight’s head began moving towards the dripping moss, his throat moving as he gulped the small amount of water given to him.  Quickly trading out the piece of moss for a larger one that was sopping wet and pressing it near his mouth.  The stallion thirstily took the moss from her hooves with his mouth, crushing it with his teeth through the mask and sucking the water out of it.  
“Hey,” Lily whispered as she took a small piece of moss and began dabbing his forehead with it.  “How are you doing?”
A groan was the only answer to her question, a chill passing through her as she realized how, while he was incredibly weak in his position, there was still a determined grit to his movements and sounds.  He practically spat the piece of moss out of his mouth, a subtle extending of his neck demanding the last piece of moss from her.  She gave it to him, allowing him to take control of it as she continued to cool his face down.  Pressing her foreleg against one of the few dry patches on his face, she felt that it was warm, but not overheating.  With a sigh of relief, she watched as he finished sucking the water out of it, letting the moss drop from his face, his head slowly lowering to the ground itself.
“Horsefeathers,” Lavender exclaimed softly as the Blue Knight suddenly hissed in pain.  Lily whipped her head over to the mare, her eyes widening as she saw Lavender’s hooves bloodied.  The mare, however, didn’t seem too fazed by the sight of blood, her hooves working quickly with a head-sized piece of moss to bandage a now bleeding portion of his back.
“The skin broke when it got wet,” the mare quickly explained, pressing the moss onto the blood to try and soak it up.  Standing up, Lily raced over to the riverbed, not bothering to take the time to search the cliffs.  She simply grabbed the nearest clump of moss and briefly dabbed it in the river before rushing back.  “I don’t think it’s too bad…” 
“We need to prevent it from staying open though,” Lily finished with a pointed glance.  “It would be really bad if this all got infected,” she added, her eyes darting around the mostly covered wound.  
Lavender had done well dressing the wound with the scrappy provisions they had, but the moss would not hold for long, the edges already drying out.  The burns, while still severe, were at least not looking nearly as terrifying as before, but the terrible red of inner skin and burnt flesh was still sickeningly present.  Swallowing a lump, she and Lavender worked together washing the wound and covering it until it stopped leaking blood.  Sighing, the two shared a look, and the surreal nature of their meeting each other seemed to overtake them for a moment as they both began to giggle nervously.  They would have continued to laugh most likely had they not been interrupted by a harsh, grumbling voice.  
“Glad you find this funny,” the stallion they were tending to suddenly commented.  “Don’t go into shock.  I’d hate to die awake.”
“Oh sweet Celestia you’re awake,” Lily exclaimed, rushing back over to the stallion’s front, using one of her hooves to lift his head up.  The mask had its life back again.
“Ye,” the Blue Knight grunted, the pain he was trying to hold back audible.  “What the hay did you do to wake me up, and why the hay are you even here?  I told you to stay away from me no matter what.”
“Even if it meant letting you die,” she harshly asked, knowing the answer.
“Well, probably best to be dead, actually,” the stallion commented, catching Lily by surprise with the honesty that was brutally unironic.  Staring hard at the stallion, trying to catch a glimpse at the pony through the mask, she knew that he hadn’t been joking.  “The public… they don’t trust me, do they now?  I’ve killed somepony, possibly someponies.”  The pause between the stallion’s words was torturous as she knew he was reading her like a book.  Softly, he added, “You don’t trust me.”
“Wait, you two know each other,” Lavender suddenly exclaimed in disbelief, preventing Lily from focusing on those words.  The Blue Knight started to jerk upright in surprise, momentarily seeming to forget his injuries.  He let out a soft grunt of pain before slowly laying back down completely on the ground.  
“You brought a friend,” the Blue Knight questioned furiously.
“Actually, she found me attempting to take care of you alone,” Lavender said, defending the mare she didn’t even know.  Glancing over at the younger mare, Lily gave her a thankful smile.  Nodding, the unicorn continued, “She was the only other one who came down here, and she knew exactly what to do to help you.  You should be thanking her for saving your life.”
“I should be doing a lot of things,” the stallion gruffly grumbled.  “Starting up a fanclub is not one of them.  Help me stand up.”
“What,” the two mares cried at the same time, both of them putting their hooves on his side to keep him down.
“You can’t stand up yet, you’re way too injured,” Lavender declared.  “Your back looks… it looks like I could touch your spine itself.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Lily firmly told him, a fierceness overtaking her voice.  She was beginning to grow bitter with the way the stallion was treating the two of them, the injustice of his reaction to their help.  Even after having his life saved by two mares who went out of their way to help, he was acting tough and pretending like he could’ve done better.  Well, maybe she should let him go.  After all, if he thought himself better than their help, why give it to him.  
“And why not,” the Blue Knight dared to ask.  “You two can’t keep both myself and yourselves down here for too long before having to resurface.  Besides, I know a place where I can get help.”
“We’re giving you help right now,” Lavender calmly told him, keeping her hooves on him, though the hold was loose.  “Please, just wait until you won’t start bleeding when you move.  We can sneak some food and medicine down for you and maybe get you something to help stay warm and covered.”
“No,” both Lily and the Blue Knight said at the same time.  The stallion beneath the mask turned his head over to the mare in surprise, obviously not expecting the mare to agree to the terms, but she was past caring.  If he was so determined to show that he was stronger than everypony else, then this would be his sink or swim moment.  Either he had to admit defeat, or she had to realize she wasn’t able to do much around this strange, infuriating stallion.  
“Let him go,” Lily told Lavender, the young mare frowning in confusion, wordlessly pointing to his burnt back.  Ignoring her gaze, Lily looked down at the stallion laying on the ground, demanding, “Get up then.  If you don’t need our help, get up and get out of here.  Prove that we’re all just wasting each other’s time.  Otherwise, quit complaining like some little colt and let us take care of you.”
Beneath his mask, Lily could see whoever he was frown in a defeated way, or was that in consideration.  Whichever it was didn’t matter to her, so long as she got her point across his thick skull.  He may be a hero, but he’d stop being one if he didn’t live through this terrible, terrifying ordeal that she had once again found herself dragged into.  Celestia darned fate.
She stepped back, using her hoof to push a reluctant Lavender away from the stallion, who still lay vulnerably on his stomach.  As if moving away was a cue of its own, the stallion began to stand almost instantly, his legs trembling as he applied his weight to them and defied gravity, standing slowly.  It took what seemed like hours before his stomach left the ground, his entire body beginning to shake, from pain or exertion, the Blue Knight didn’t show it.  The stallion only silently raised himself from the ground, not a whisper of complaint or groan of agony escaping him, only the sounds of breathing forced to be calm.  Lavender was visibly slack-jawed that the stallion they had deemed crippled just minutes ago was standing on his own.  Lily herself had to clench her teeth to keep her own jaw from dropping, but with a determination not to be stood up to, she remained as emotionless as she could.  Finally, with a fantastic shake of his head that set the moss falling from him, he stood completely, his masked face turning sharply to the two mares.
“I-I-I…” Lavender began before trailing off, too shocked by the impossible to form a cohesive sentence. The Blue Knight, however, had no such problems.
“Well, there, I’ve proved you wrong,” the stallion blandly stated.  “I hope you aren’t happy.  Now, before I go, there are two fundamental things I need to know from the two of you.  First, who looked under my mask, and second, what did you use to wake me up from the unconsciousness?”
Both mares turned and stared at each other in shock, both instantly suspicious of the other for the accused crime.  Giving Lavender a hard glare, she read the younger mare’s eyes and realized her shocked eyes were truly angry, betrayed even.  Those weren’t the emotions of somepony with something to hide.  Letting her glare fall, she looked over to the Blue Knight suspiciously.  He had asked who had taken a forbidden look under his mask when it was now obvious that nopony had. 
“If you had wanted to ask if we looked under your mask, you should have just said it outright,” Lily angrily told the Blue Knight, turning her back to him and storming away.  “As for what we used, it was just some healer’s mark.  The juice was bitter enough to get through even your thick skull.  Come on, Lavender.  We don’t have to deal with this… problem anymore.”
There was a quick moment of hesitation before her footfalls seconded Lily’s, but the mare did follow, her eyes lingering on the wounded form of the Blue Knight just a moment longer than Lily’s.  In spite of the bright midday light, the both of them saw a bright blue flash that originated from behind them.  Only Lavender turned back to find the stallion they had attended to gone.
> Chapter 14: Dear Auntie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blueblood flashed into his room, collapsing painfully on the soft bed with a cry of pain.  Instantly, he felt blood spill onto his fur as the sudden action reopened his back wounds.  He hissed with pain as he forced his horn to light through the disturbance, attempting to seal his wounds magically as best he could.  Unfortunately, his skill with arcanic healing was not on par with what his other magics might have suggested.  He only managed to summon a soft flesh bandage that helped to prevent the bleeding, but it didn’t actually do any healing.  
With a pained exhale, he pushed himself onto his hooves.  A spike of burning, insurmountable pain shot across his entire back, making him yell in pain.  He remained, however, crouched over his bed as he seethed anger at himself.  Why did he have to be so negligent to himself?  He knew though, and it only made him angrier.  Seeing that mare, the one that had been hovering besides Lily, and her wide golden eyes alight at the sight of him waking up from his unconsciousness, it set something unhealthy ablaze within him.  As soon as he knew that pang of emotion, emotion connected to someone who was attempting to help the Blue Knight, Blueblood knew he had to leave. 
Now he was paying a price for his own bigotry, unable to move from his painful, crouched stance, but not willing to allow himself to lay back down.  Instead, he attempted to focus on his horn once again, summoning the last bit of his drained mana to pull the mask off his face.  He gasped in a breath of fresh air as it came off, sweat making it stick slightly longer than he had wanted.  For a brief moment, he wondered if either of the mares had actually peeked under his mask.  He didn’t know for certain whether he could trust Lily’s word that they hadn’t taken a peek. 
Perhaps it was why she was as angry as she had been, seeing that it was really that bastard Prince Blueblood beneath the mask, and not some charming, strong stallion.  It did add up quite negatively against him, and new worry entered his head, the worry of what might be insinuated in the wrong circumstances that it was Prince Blueblood who was the Blue Knight and not vice versa.  It was an unappealing thought, as it could prove to be not only his downfall, but the downfall of the Princesses, his dear aunts.  
“I’m gonna hafta go find those mares, aren’t I,” he asked the pillow in front of him.  His voice sounded surprisingly steady for how strained he felt physically, but it provided little comfort to him.  I need to find some medicine or something, he thought as he felt the flesh he’d acquired artificially begin to fill slightly with leaking blood.  Grimacing, he managed to force himself to turn completely, the urge to vomit overcoming him as he felt the pooling blood slosh slightly beneath his false flesh. Taking a deep breath, he took a singular step off his bed.
That proved to be too much, as exerting all of his weight on a singular hoof for the briefest moment caused him to collapse, though he thankfully remained on his bed when he did so.  Still, the action elicited another pained hiss from him, which turned into a groan as he felt his unfounded flesh tear and leak the pool blood across his back anew.  Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to get up for a while he wondered what would happen if any of the maid staff happened to intrude at the wrong moment.  They were still on orders to remain out of his room without his express permission, right?
“Oh that’s not good,” Blueblood murmured to himself, his voice now sounding dangerously slurred.  He was getting hazy, he realized.  There wasn’t much time before he fell asleep, which wouldn’t be good either.  Blood loss and pain.  They were causing his body to… to… He was shutting down.  His mind was entering shock too, most likely, and his thoughts were leaving him.  He needed…. Something.  Something to keep him awake.  
“Awake equals alive,” he whispered.  He laughed.  “Life is an equation.  Breathe multiplied by breath equals alive.  Haha…  I should... laugh more…”
His eyes had drifted shut.  Now when had that happened?  But why not?  He was tired.  Tired colts needed their naps.  That’s what Auntie had always told him, just take a nap when you’re tired and grumpy.  But he wasn’t grumpy.  But he was tired. So just fall asleep.  Fall asleep…
A sudden flash of dark blue light filled the room, a flurry of sparkling, shimmering essence scattering across Blueblood’s waning vision.  He lifted his head slightly from its askance position, his vision blurry as he attempted to understand what exactly was happening.  A dark figure, slender and beautiful, approached him quickly, horn alight and wings expanded as she immediately began to his wounded body.
“Sweet stars above, Blueblood,” Luna breathed as she took in his battered, bleeding bodice.  Blueblood felt a warmth wash over his back as Luna’s expertise in healing mended his back, a sturdy reconstruction of not only his flesh, but also his damaged or destroyed muscles.  “Where in the wide world of Equestria have you been!  It’s been almost a day and we haven’t heard or seen anything of you!”
“I was caught up with something,” he muttered shamefully, regaining himself from the haziness of the pain and shock.  For a brief second, he considered asking for water, his mouth dry, but he knew that as soon as he would ask, he was going to be chastised for not taking care of himself.  Instead, he lay in abject silence as Luna swiftly worked his wounds away.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, though he knew it was meant for him to hear.  There was shock in her voice, shock and sorrow.  He frowned, a lump forming in his throat.  “I… well, Celestia and I both had ordered the Guards to search anywhere and everywhere for you, but they couldn’t find you in or around the Castle.  Where were you?”
“The waterfall,” he answered.  “I went to it as soon as I realized I was on fire.  I kind of… lost control of myself above it and fell in.  I wasn’t able to stay conscious for very long, and I’m not sure how I made it to the bank, but it doesn’t matter.  I was able to survive.”
“Yes, surviving is good,” Luna said, her hooves now pressing softly against his back, where he had previously been bleeding from.  Now there was only firm flesh, though there was a stinging pain that remained from the sudden transfer of skin and muscle.  As her hooves continued to test his back, she questioned, “Did you just wake up?  Is that why you only appeared just now?”
“Somewhat,” he answered cryptically, not wanting to reveal too much.  Feeling stronger thanks to Luna’s healing, he attempted to stand.  It took a second, his legs shaky, his body remembering its torment over the last hours, but he was able to hold himself up once again, this time without pain.  
As soon as he was solidly standing, Luna’s hooves removed themselves from his back, instead going to his face and holding onto his cheeks there.  The alicorn forced him to look her in the eye, her concerned blue eyes scanning his face with worry before firmly meeting his gaze.  They held the stare for several long seconds, reading each other’s eyes before Luna pulled him into a tight hug.  
“I didn’t think you were alive,” Luna confessed, her voice cracking as Blueblood felt his own throat closing.  “They captured a picture of you in the news, one of you flying off with your entire back on fire.  You looked as if you were some sort of demon, and that’s what everypony believes you are now.”
“I could guess so much,” he muttered back with a choked voice.  Now that survival wasn’t the main focus, he felt the emotions crashing through him once again, the fear, anger, sorrow, and pain of everything that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours.  Tears overflowed his eyes as he murmured into his aunt’s coat, “I killed somepony, Luna.  I watched myself vaporize him with my own magic, and I didn't stop.  I didn’t even know his name.  I simply killed him…” 
Surprisingly, as he said that, he felt himself calming down, coming to terms with the action.  He had killed somepony, and he was probably the first pony to kill another pony in decades, if not centuries.  Taking a deep breath once again, he pressed his face into Luna’s coat, taking in her warmth and comfort.  He needed to simply think for just a moment, to allow the events of the past few hours wash over him and see what they left afterwards.  He was too tired now, too weak to care for the psychology of what he’d done.  Blueblood was not the Blue Knight.  He didn’t have to worry about his problems.
“Are you alright now,” Luna inquired softly.  The dark blue alicorn pushed away from him just enough that she could be face to face with him, her eyes now firmly on his.  
Sighing deeply, he turned his gaze away from his aunt, nodding as he told her, “I’m not quite sure.  It may be apathetic of me to say this, but… I really don’t care too much that I killed that stallion.  To put it simply, he was one of the reasons Canterlot was in danger, and had proven to be not only violent, but vengeful.  He and the other one went after the mare that they got caught trying to rob after beating up several cops to escape.  I would say that, seeing as we hadn’t securely arrested him, neutralizing him was the next best step I could take.”
Luna’s face fell as she listened to Blueblood, but instead of finding disgust or anger when he looked up, it was a more painful expression.   Sympathy.  Why would she be sympathetic towards him when he wasn’t the victim?  His gaze dropped once more as he was pulled into yet another hug, this one softer as she stroked his mane.  He felt like a little colt in her grasp, and in spite of only having met her a few months prior, Blueblood and his second aunt had become, in a way, more than that.  Sometimes her worrying and open attitude around him felt motherly, as if he was her child that she needed to dote over.  The attention and love that Luna gave him had spurred him in his efforts, and now the only thing he had to show for it was blood on his hooves. 
That thought, the disappointment that it left, and the numerous others that plagued him when he looked down and saw his own blood on her mane, made him want to leave, to run away.  
“Even heroes have to fall back onto the worst tactics when backed into a corner,” Luna reassured him.  He knew she wanted to say something else, but whatever else it was she spared him from, her soft kindness taking over.  They stayed like that for a while, perfectly still save for Luna’s hoof rhythmically stroking his mane, listening to each other’s breath.  It wasn’t until Blueblood began sitting up, intending to thank Luna that she spoke again.  “You know, when I was a much younger mare, back when we fought Sombra in the Terrible War, I killed more ponies than any other on our side of the war.  At the time, I believed it to be the worst thing possible, that I could’ve killed so many of the ponies that walked under my moon.  I was guilt-struck and couldn’t bring myself to lead our armies when war broke out once again between Sombra and Equestria.”
Luna seemed lost in her thoughts as she looked out his window, to where the sun was beginning to set.  “It wasn’t until Celestia came into my room and dropped all formalities, talking to me as my older sister, that she finally convinced me to drop my guilt.  She didn’t ask me to retake my post as a joint commander of the armies.  The only thing she asked me to be was happy, to be able to understand that those I killed was a necessity, that while avoidable, had been made unavailable not by myself but because of them.  She held me just like this, and told me of past generals, great generals who have been forgotten after eons.  They had to kill as well, and they took every life to their heart, but not to their head, and it allowed them to value life and still win.
“When I retook my position as Commander-in-Chief of the Army beside my sister, I vowed over my place as an alicorn that I would not slay a single soul in the entire war.  I fulfilled that goal not by hiding in a tent and ordering others to take my place, but by taking to the front lines and developing a new strategy for victory.  I wouldn’t allow the enemy near me, but instead of using my weapons to fend them off or magic to burn them, I used my wings to soar above them and freeze them in my path, leaving them to be captured.  A flying magic wielder was something none of our enemies had faced before, and sometimes the fearful sight of me bringing the night behind me was enough to induce a surrender.  
“Thirty-five thousand soldiers would surrender to us, and my forces would only kill some hundreds,” Luna’s gaze once again returned to his, a gentle smile crossing her face.  “It isn’t the physical might of your strength that should win you battles, but the mental integrity of your mind.  There’s a lot less suffering on both sides when you allow yourself to walk down different paths than the easiest one.  The longest, less traveled road leads to a whole new possibility.”
“The possibility of death, I might include,” Blueblood sourly interrupted.  “Auntie, I know you’re trying to teach me something, but you have to know that it doesn’t matter.  I’ve already killed one, and I know I have two more to deal with.  If need be, I’ll kill them too, and I’ll do so guiltlessly.  That may not be what you want to hear, but it’s my nature, and if digging myself a grave means safety for Canterlot, then I’ll gladly lose myself for thousands’ security.”
“Don’t you see the issue, then, the controversy of what you’ve just said,” Luna patiently questioned, her evergreen attempts to dissuade him from such thoughts dauntless.  “By deciding to end the lives of ponies who haven’t yet killed, you paint yourself as the villain in Canterlot’s eyes, even if you attempt to do it for their own good.  You might not care, but who will stand up to you when you are seen as the villain?  What infinite circle of heroic villains will you create by your actions?  Who will come to kill you as the perceived danger, and what will become of them and their challenger?”
Blueblood took a moment of pause to earnestly consider the mare’s words, a slow, thoughtful track of possibilities swiftly running through his brain.  With a hardness to his voice, he summarized the firmest possibility to Luna, his eyes unable to meet her’s as he muttered, “Then I guess I must begin and end the cycle at once.  If I am to generate a bloody, unending cycle of death by surviving the final encounter, I must not allow myself to survive it.”
For the first time, Luna’s face truly fell, an ashen tint to her blue luminosity haunting Blueblood as she hushly told him, “You might be the first pony in fifteen hundred years to propose the concept of suicide.  This is just theoretical speculation… yes?”
Staring his aunt in the eyes once again, drawn to them by an unspoken worry, Blueblood knew there could be only one answer to her careful question.  “Of course.”  
> Chapter 15: The First Martyr
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stallion stared blankly at the carved stone tablet that marked the side of the rather unassuming bluff.  On it was inscribed a date from twenty-four years ago and yesterday’s date, the name of the unfortunate stallion etched above it.  Brick had carved the stone tablet himself, some of his tears still visible on the slab.  The large earth pony stood silently beside the stallion, his face blank as the last patch of dirt was thrown onto the pile, Scarlet kindly finishing the burial in spite of hardly knowing the stallion.  
The young mare stepped away from the grave and to his side, where she usually stayed when the other stallions were around.  It seemed, especially with the death of Thorn at the hooves of the Blue Knight, that his choice to begin recruiting more ponies for the cause was the right call.  Already, they had lost one member and several fights with what appeared to be their only enemy, and had it not been for the Blue Knight, he may be buried right now as well, his dream and the future dead with him.  
He was still confused as to why the stallion beneath the mask had chosen to save him when he obviously knew the threat he posed to the Princesses.  Perhaps he had been playing the “good guy” front, though it didn’t make sense when taking into account that the Blue Knight had proceeded to kill somepony moments later.  It may have been simple equinity, the primordial urge to save another member of the same species.  However, one again the discrepancy was formed when taking into consideration his other violent actions, the nigh-on fatal beating he had given the two stallions and leaving them to their fates.  On all accounts, though, there was one thing the unicorn could take away.
The stallion was a bloody, and could now be considered bloodied, being the first pony to kill another in centuries.  It was a grim, yet inspiring milestone, proving to the stallion that, when the time came, he could and would be able to kill, be it a stallion, mare, or Celestia forbid a Princess.  The thought made him smile slightly, in spite of the ongoing funeral, a twist of his lips that he knew was disturbing.  It didn’t matter, he knew, as long as nopony else saw it.  Wiping his expression, he curtly turned away from the grave, taking a step across the short plain that hung off the side of the mountain.  
The young pegasus mare took the initiative, lifting off the small bluff and catching the constant drift that the mountain provided.  Behind him, he heard the sturdy stallion emotionally heave one last time, his hoofsteps following behind him anyways.  Turning his head to watch Brick, he gave the stallion a sympathetic nod, allowing his disappointment and conniving to subside for a second and allow sorrow through.  He may not have always been the best companion around the stallions and may not have much care for their antics, but the familiarity between him and them was true.  Glancing behind the stallion for a brief second, getting a final look at the tombstone, knowing that in the coming days and weeks, there would be no time for an earnest visit.
With a subtle change in his position, he breathed in deeply and pulsed his inner flux, deep within his core feeling the urge to use more than necessary.  Practice and discipline, however, held strength over savage, violent urges, and he was able to cap off the magic.  Using the small amount of arcane energy sent a shock through his body, a lasting effect of surging out of control.  He had grown used to it already, as it was more of a shock than a pain, and was able to focus through it.
In a flash of blue light, he and Brick disappeared from the mountaintop, reappearing seconds later in the small house in the woods they had taken refuge in.  While the stallion had prepared to have to relocate, this was one of his least favorite safehouses.  He had no way of knowing how many critters crept past the wooden walls during the night, large or small as they may be, and the inability to keep inventory of such gave him an uneasy feeling of the surroundings.  There were too many trees as well, the Padderhoof Forest almost as wild and gnarled as the pinewoods of the Everfree.  
Still, the house was what it needed to be, a safe, solitary refuge from the views of outsiders and anypony who might foil his plans.  He had two in Canterlot, but considering his rapid rise to fame the previous night, it was wisest not to end up back in the city.  After all, he had no way of knowing how many ponies were on the street when he had battled the Blue Knight, let alone how many might have seen him if he had happened to be caught on camera and featured in the newspapers.  Growling slightly at himself, he wondered exactly what could have been done to get away cleanly.  Perhaps it was the  magical burst he had released on the constables that gave him away, perhaps it was some sort of communication to them, but somehow the Blue Knight knew that they were escaping.  Even worse, he knew where they had been heading.  All in all, last night’s scuffle was an unprecedented defeat.  Unless.
A quick vision flashed through his mind, the sight of the Hero of Canterlot retreating into the air, back aflame with the mixture of magic and oil.  He had been on fire for a good while before he had even managed to retreat, and seeing as there was no exact way to calculate where he was heading or how he put himself out, there was a good possibility he was severely injured by the incident.  Considering as well that he couldn’t show up to any hospitals or doctor’s offices, there was a considerable chance that he hadn’t been able to swiftly get the attention he needed for the magnitude of his wound.  Perhaps, even, if luck was on their side, he hadn’t been able to receive the treatment he needed.  Perhaps, the Blue Knight was no longer the Hero of Canterlot, but was the Hero of Canterlot.
There was a moment of euphoric relief at the thought of the dreadful ending to the stallion, but the white unicorn quickly remembered himself, stiffening up.  He would not rely on presumptions, not until he was able to come to a firm resolution of proof to his hypotheses.  Until that time, he would continue to act as if the Blue Knight were alive and judge his fortune as such.  With a deep breath, he picked himself up from where he had been standing in front of the doorway, moving swiftly across the small space on the bottom floor and to the stairwell.  Something about being on the ground level was haunting to him, as if the eyes of the trees were able to look down on him and see him through the windows.  At least in his room on the second floor they would be level with one another. 
The door banged open briefly as he began his ascent, a gust of wind heralding the arrival of Scarlet, who was brushing a few leaves from her fur.  The mare closed the door behind her, silently catching his gaze for a moment and holding it, an expression of mixed emotions in her eyes.  On the one hoof, she was almost completely indifferent to the stallion, but on the other, the true horror and reality of what she had thrown herself into by agreeing to work for and with them.  He could tell as well the fear she held him in as both the one to oversee that she kept her promise and the stallion that potentially killed a hero.
The stallion gave her a subtle, stinted smile before turning and continuing back up the stairs.  He needed to allow her to think freely, to be allowed to judge her choices and calculate her actions, to decide for herself the correct path.  He wouldn’t live forever, and especially with the Blue Knight out there, knowing his face and knowing his power, there was no running forever.  One day, be it in a week, year, or decade, he would be caught and either be imprisoned, or die resisting the champion of the Princesses.  One day, be it in a week, year, or decade, somepony would need to replace him, a fresh, younger mind that knew the truth, had self-actualized the world, and could be the difference.  
Opening the door to his room, he went immediately to the desk, pulling out the drawers for a quill, ink, and several dozen sheets of paper, minding the sudden zap that reverberated through his rib cage.  As soon as he was seated, the quill touched the paper and he began writing.  He wrote several paragraphs on the first sheet, describing in full the occurrences that had led up to the fateful night before, as far back as the jailbreak.  Then, on several more sheets, he carefully described last night, finding the stallions, his companions broken and battered, barely living.  He spent an entire page depicting his healing of Thorn, a majority of it calculating the potential amount of power he had used in the process as well as how much he must have had left for what came next.  Breathlessly, he described the arcanic blast he had unleashed on the force of constables, the way they had become ragdolls before his unmatchable power, the lightning that filled his breast and left him elated.
Then, very somberly, he began to describe the ultimate loss of the night, the moment he had sensed the Blue Knight’s presence, the moment he had made the mistake of choosing violence.  Humbly, he recalled how he had struggled to match the stallion’s quick comebacks and agility, both physically and archaically, the way he seemed to flow with magic.  Scornful of his past self, he reminisced in the moment he had nearly been consumed by his own magic, the moment the pain had coursed through his body and his hold broke.  Then, with sincerity of thought, he wrote down what he believed his last thought would be: “Am I to become the Icarus that flew too close to the sun?”
With a haste he did not realize he had, he relived being rescued, the hate he felt as the pain receded and his vision was restored, revealing the featureless masked face of the Blue Knight, his savior.  He recalled immediately the words exchanged between them, a memory as fresh and sharp as the smell of the dead body produced by the consequences of his next actions.  A mixture of hate for himself and the stallion filled him as he described in detail the shocking turn of the stallion from an unstoppable arcane master to a god of destruction. For the first time, he found himself having to halt, to breath between words as the painful memory of defeat sapped his vigor.  Then, with a deep, pained breath, he wrote down the imagery in his head, the eternally powerful destruction released by the Blue Knight, and the gleam of death that shone from him as he became the epitome of magic. 
Finding he couldn’t fit the thoughts on the few pages he had left, he briefly unpacked more paper, paper meant to be used in bound books, and continued writing.  His quill flourished, his ink half gone now, as he described the beautiful white and gold of the beam as it turned houses into rubble and reduced everything to golden flames.  The haunting vision of Thorn becoming completely consumed by the beam, reduced to char before his very eyes was put onto the paper, as well as the sudden emotions of fear and panic that filled him for the first time in years.  Even as he wrote, he felt the chill of goosebumps rising under his fur as he remembered the horrific night’s incident, the true fear of death that filled him as he watched the beam direct itself towards him.  For the few seconds it overtook him and his failing shield, he saw death, stared at the beautiful beam head on, and had known fear.
He had stopped writing.  
With a quiet sigh, he turned over his shoulder, glancing to the mare that stood in the doorway.  She had to have been standing there for quite a while, silently observing him as he contemplated the night and the Knight.  There was concern clearly drawn on her face, a silent plea for him to explain himself, if he could.  Softly, he set his quill down, noticing how large the pile of papers had grown, almost forty pages of writing and thoughts produced.  The moon was shining directly into his room now, meaning it was nearing morning.  Had she been awake for that long, watching him, waiting for his reaction?
“You’ve been writing for hours,” she stated quietly.  
“I’ve written for days,” he dismissively pointed out, though she probably didn’t know such.  “What do you want?”
The mare seemed to hesitate for a moment before drawing in a deep breath, asking, “Is this what you do when one of your friends dies?  When they are murdered while trying to complete your dream?”
“Yes, it is what I will do every time one of my followers and friends perishes for our cause,” he muttered, once again dismissing her slightly aggressive tone.  “I record their last moments, the moment they went from enthusiast to martyr, and by that standard, I keep their memory alive.  This is the first time I’ve had to write such an obituary, and though I wish it would never occur again, I cannot promise that it will be the last time.  I intended to continue writing until morning, giving the stallion who woefully died in my place the respect and remembrance he deserved, but perhaps it would be more meaningful to teach you the principles he died for.”
Without saying a word, he stood, approaching the fiery mare silently.  Scarlet eyed him with slight apprehension, but he quickly dismissed it by walking right past her.  She turned and followed him down the hall, to where a singular window was, the mountain that Canterlot resided on dominating the view.  Stopping in front of it, he pushed it open, allowing the chilling air of the autumn night to seep into the warm cabin.  He stared dutifully past the large tree branches to where, distantly, he could see the soft glow emitted by the city, even during the witching hours.  Frowning, he found himself struggling slightly to find the correct words for the message he wanted to share.
Revelation, though, came when the mare accidentally bumped against him while she moved to stand beside him.  The soft contact opened up a mostly unused part of his brain as sympathy sank through his philosophical shield of indifference.  “You see, up there, and all around us, Equestria is an innocent place, a place where ponies live and die with barely any sorrow,” he whispered.  “But then there are ponies like you and I, ponies that were, by chance, born disadvantaged of such privileges, forced to hide ourselves in the society that welcomes all races.  You see, even though this country is unified with the bonds of all three equine races, there is almost no tolerance for any ideology besides that of unique friendship and peace.  Perhaps it’s why we are the most successful and prosperous race.  Perhaps it’s why we’re the most vulnerable as well.”
“What do you mean,” Scarlet asked inquisitively.
Sticking his hoof out the window and pointing away from the mountain, to the south, he questioned rhetorically, “What would happen, per se, if the dragons of the south ceased to raid small villages, and instead unified and launched a full-scale invasion of Equestria?  You see, in spite of having a perfect mentality, we don’t have a perfect reality, as is obvious by our many neighbors.  One day their waning virtue will dissipate and their urge to prove their dominance in strength will overtake them, and on that day, Equestria will go to war.  That same day, it will end.”
“Because ponies can’t fight back,” the mare soberly finished.  She was looking down now, a small frown on her young face.  Seeing the expression, the one he wore so frequently, he felt a twinge of guilt.  Raising a hoof to her face, he lifted it lightly so they could be eye level. 
“Don’t frown,” he softly urged her.  “It’s not good for your health.”  Retracting his hoof, he gave her a small smile, knowing it would be her first time seeing him with the expression.  “You see, as a species, ponykind is in the right place, but is too weak to stay there.  I don’t know exactly why Princess Celestia removed the ability to fight and kill from the equine disposition, but it was clearly a mistake.  We bloodied have the strength to carry our nation and populace beyond the prosperity it holds to utter glory, an unstoppable force of both violent and peaceful.  I haven’t ever told you or anypony else about my true plan, the one that seems to be more of a dream than a goal.”
The stallion paused, letting himself relax and focus on his words beyond the running of his mouth.  He wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to share his dream with anypony, but there was a strange thing about the mare, a bond he felt with her that made him feel young.  It wasn’t love, not in the romantic way, at the very least, but it was something just as powerful.  Perhaps it was because he saw some of himself in her, or perhaps it was simply because of the way she almost perfectly represented his dream, but either way, he couldn’t deny that the mare forced his disclosed mind open.
“In the future, when Celestia and Luna no longer harbor and control the attention and affection of the ponies, when common ponies dedicate themselves to the service of others and run the country, there will be need for protection,” the white unicorn explained.  “Admittedly, Celestia- and now Luna -are the only reason we haven’t been invaded already, the power they hold and represent as alicorns the only thing that enemies have to fear.  However, in the future, there could be ponies- unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies -that could do the job just as well, and better.  In the future, we bloodied would be a necessity to survive, an elite selection of ponykind that would protect our brothers and sisters.”
“Are you saying that you want to take anypony who is a bloodied and use them to overthrow the Princesses, then,” the mare inquired, her brow setting.  “You want to stage an armed coup against the Princesses to establish this utopia of yours?”
“Of course not,” the stallion almost scoffed.  “I may be eccentric about providing a better future, but I would never dream of attempting to militaristically overthrow the Princesses.  You see, they haven’t truly committed any crime, especially Luna.  After all, they do view us as their ‘little ponies’, and act motherly around everypony.  They do have an honest and pure care for us, but much like an overprotective pet owner, they treat us kindly, but not rightly.  I believe that it is time for ponykind to take wings and fly out of the nest that the Princesses provided for them the past millennia.  I simply want to remind the ponies of Equestria that they have the wings, the liberties to reject their overlording mothers and move on to better places.”
The mare’s eyes lit up as she finally understood what the stallion was proposing, the endgame that their movement envisioned.  “You want to dethrone the Princesses and establish the ponies,” Scarlet exclaimed, looking almost pleased at the idea.  “You want to let the ponies fend for themselves and take the nation the Princesses have provided and better it.”
“Precisely,” the stallion confirmed, smiling brightly as he saw the scarlet pegasus do the same.  “And at the head of it all, the bloodied, the unspoken, battered underbelly of equinity will stand for this movement.  That’s what Thorn died for.  That’s the reason that I want to continue to write the history of that stallion, a commemoration to our first martyr.”
> Chapter 16: Alive
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blueblood’s breath caught as he winced in pain, slowly peeling the bandage off his raw flesh.  He grimaced when he saw the angry red skin beneath, the wounds that remained from his wounds.  His back had gotten much better considering the mare’s had told him they could see bone, but the injury still had a long ways to go.  He had barely gotten any sleep from both the physical pain and mental battle that he was fighting in his head.  He hadn't really thought of his words when he was arguing with Luna, but they were words he had said regardless, so he now had to recompense with them.  
Groaning, he focused on dressing his wound with the cool velvet cream Celestia had provided to him.  Her visit was much less notable, no theoretical speculations of his actions or lessons taught.  Unlike her sister, Celestia had only attempted to care for his physical injuries, wrapping new bandages around him herself.  They hadn’t talked much either, as his aunt had probably noticed he was consumed with thought and stinging pain.  With a sigh of relief, his wincing relieved with the cool spread on the ointment across the burn.  
As he relaxed and laid belly down on his bed, exhaustion overcoming him once again, he stared out the large windows of his bedroom, out across the world.  The sun had risen a little less than an hour ago, and he knew that many ponies were now preparing to or starting their day.  He wondered idly if there were any ponies who worked in the palace that lived in that neighborhood he and the strange white unicorn had fought in.  There were upward of two hundred ponies that worked in the palace throughout the week with various jobs, but only a fourth of them actually lived in the palace.  Perhaps one more was living here now that Blueblood had destroyed their home.
He shook his head, attempting to take his mind off of such sobering thoughts.  He would have plenty of time to beat himself up for the mistakes he had made on that fateful night.  Right now, he had to focus.  
Glancing slightly to the door, he noted that there hadn’t been any maidstaff sent to give him breakfast or check in on him.  Perhaps that meant that Celestia had told them to leave him be for a few days.  It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence around the palace for him to go missing for several days, so Celestia had come up with a cover story that fit perfectly with the prince.  Whenever he was to be left alone, she would convince the staff of the palace that he was in a “maddened rave”.  Neither the maidstaff nor Blueblood himself knew what Celestia meant by that, but it fit perfectly with his personality, so it was seldom questioned.
He appreciated the small gesture his aunts had made to help cover him up, but oftentimes it felt almost as if he wasn’t taken seriously enough.  It was a foolish thought, he knew, but he couldn’t help but think that sometimes, especially surrounded by alicorns that had lived a thousand times longer than him.  Perhaps it was why he acted the way he did, attempting to ensure his short life would be remembered when in comparison to the long centuries his aunts had lived.  Even though all other ponies might remember him as Prince Blueblood, they would write about the Blue Knight.  The notoriety of his other half would certainly satisfy his desire to have some sort of effect on ponykind.
“Though that effect is negative now,” he muttered darkly, his back throbbing in time with his mental pain.  Sighing deeply, he shook his head and stood, feeling rested enough to move.  He had neglected to bathe the wound since two nights previous, and he certainly felt dirty in spite of having hardly moved.  Slowly crawling off his bed and onto the carpet, he made his way to the bathroom, using his horn to start the warm water.  
He shoved away the thoughts of the previous days, focusing for the moment on the idlest matter at hoof.  He slowly took out a washcloth and dipped it into the filling bathtub, wringing it out and rubbing it softly across his back.  At least with all of the damage he had received, none of it had been to his horn, both physically and arcanically.  Even with the vast amount of energy he had exhumed from himself two nights prior he remained as strong with his magic as she had felt using it, a testament to the durability of his arcane reservoirs.
He cleaned himself slowly, intentionally pressing down on his wound to test how healed the skin beneath the wound was.  He hissed in pain as it stung, but thankfully he only felt surface pain.  It seemed that, thanks to a combination of the medicines and care of his aunts and the two mares at the river, there was nothing but a flesh wound left.  Forcing his pain down, he continued to wipe at the wound, cleaning away the layer of ointment to get to the pink flesh itself.  He finished cleaning the top wound and worked on a smaller one Celestia had discovered, a burn on his side.  Though it was smaller, it too had almost killed him thanks to how close to his lungs the wound had been.  
After finally wiping away the ointment, he dipped himself into the tub that was now full, sighing with relief as his body was enveloped in warmth.  Ever since he had woken up from crashing into the river’s surface, he had felt a chill, most likely from a small fever.  He probably would have to stay in his room for a bit more than just today, seeing as he knew his immune system would be underrun while fighting infection.  Wincing slightly, he completely submerged his body in the warm water, his back stinging as warm water enveloped it.  With a small grunt, he rolled over so he was facing the door in case somepony entered without warning.
Relaxing in the tub, the complex technicalities of entering the bath completed, he allowed his mind to wander.  With the insistent sting of his back, he naturally wondered what exactly the wound would do to his body.  It would certainly scar over, however, he didn’t know to what extent the wounds would leave a visible mark on his body.  More than likely, the skin would heal, but the fur would never grow back, leaving him with an ugly bald patch.  In public as Prince Blueblood, he would have to wear coats or suits to cover his back and prevent suspicion.  It would fit well with the persona, but it would be painful from a financial standpoint.
Perhaps, however, whatever the mares had done to rejuvenate his strength so swiftly by the riverbed would be enough to heal him completely.  He had no clue what they had done, but whatever it was had probably both saved his secrecy and saved his life.  His brow furrowed as he attempted to recall every detail of that night, but all he could remember was waking up and a surge of strength that encouraged him to brush the mares away.  They had probably done something to him to cause this, but how he hadn’t been awakened by the pressure on his fresh wound he didn’t know.  
Growing, he began to rub soap along the rest of himself, cleaning away the sweat of his struggle to survive.  It felt almost normal, now, to casually wipe the washcloth over random bruises and scrapes from various scuffles or simple mishaps while moving through the city.  He no longer winced from the lesser wounds, and even with the pain of his back, he felt as if he could start walking around normally soon, maybe tonight, even.  It was a reckless and most likely ill-founded belief, but he could feel the pressure time was putting on him.
In spite of technically stopping the stallion and his cohorts in their tracks, he had lost the duel ultimately, and he knew he hadn’t even wounded the stallion.  He may have killed one of his cronies, but there was at least another he could use, not to mention his own self.  Besides, he could have several more ponies under his hoof that neither he or the constables knew about.  It was a dangerous thing to have multiple bloodied ponies in the same congregation, even more dangerous if it was only bloodied.  Without some sort of morale backboard, the  group could easily become the most dangerous threat to the city yet.  
With that determination, Blueblood decided he was clean enough, standing up in the warm water as he pulled the plug magically.  The tub drained while he grabbed a towel and carefully dried himself off, minding the wound on his back.  In spite of his injury, the bath felt like it had given him a burst of strength, and with newfound vigor, he finished drying and turned to his closet.  It had been unfortunate to lose one of his suits to the fire, but luckily he had one more stored in the same cabinet drawer.  He wrenched it open arcanely, pulling out the costume.  With a half smile, he brought it into the main room and levitated the fedora from his previous outfit to himself.  
He had left the only piece of the costume that was still intact on his desk, and though it was intact, the hat was slightly singed and torn.  Compared to the fresh ensemble, it looked raggedy, but Blueblood appreciated the contrast, and it would be striking proof to the city that the Blue Knight lived.  His smile broadened as he donned the outfit, enjoying the tight feel of the fabric on him, even as it stung his wound.  He could bandage it later, when he was able to sit down long enough to worry about pain.  Right now, however, he had a task, though minor, that he wished to complete, a small urge to get out and prove to himself that he wasn’t obsolete when injured, but that injuries were obsolete to him.  
Without any hesitation, an air of life breathed into him, he whipped his doors open and practically threw himself off the balcony.  Not even the sting of his back distracted him from the beautiful joy of fresh air and whistling wind as he flew over the top of the castle, carelessly flinging himself around the spires.  He paused on a familiar ledge that hung over the cascade of water that led directly to his haven.  From here, he could see for miles all around, the empty wilderness filled with luscious green life.  In the far distance, Ponyville lay, but it couldn’t have meant less at the moment.  
For a brief moment, he was feeling the joys of life, the other aspect of having survived this terrible ordeal, and the challenge to do something more.  For a brief moment, he was neither a prince or a hero, just Blueblood, a twenty five year old stallion as oblivious to the dangers of the city as every other pony.  Smiling, he breathed in deeply, and, as he let it out, he allowed himself to plunge off the castle and towards the ground not so far below.
> Epilogue: The Witness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since she had heard of him, all she had wanted to do was meet the stallion behind the mask.  Whether it was just curiosity, or maybe something more, there was the undeniable desire, even passion, to find the Blue Knight and confront him.  There seemed to be an alluring air about him that made the city romanticize his life, a secret stallion hidden amongst the crowd of normal ponies.  She, however, wanted to know the truth more than the legends, more than just his identity, but who he was.  In the past few weeks, she had come to several of her own conclusions, and had decided to take a huge risk to get her closer to both suspects and information.
From the get go, it had been clear that whoever the mystery stallion was, they were in a relatively strong financial situation, but that only narrowed down the few hundred stallions that lived in the eastern suburbs.  However, it had also become abundantly clear that, beyond funding, he also was most likely young and single, with no family to have to hide his secret from.  This narrowed the stallion down to being a rich somepony who was attempting to do good in their own way.  She had also guessed that, most likely, they, being rich and all, knew the Princesses, and could even possibly have let them in on who he was.  
So, in the biggest leap of faith in her life, she had decided to offer herself up as a worker in the palace.  It wasn’t that hard to become one of the many servants in the palace, as security was tight, but also very understanding.  It helped that she had been a great student and had a closed book as her cutie mark, and combined with who her parents were, the procedure had been short and sweet.  She lived in the castle now, and mostly helped with schedule management and the occasional odd job around the interior management.  Officially, she was one of Princess Celestia’s juvenile advisors, but the other members of staff called her their “go fer”, but since she held no high rank, she had to listen to basically everyone else.
It was a fun job, however, and getting to talk almost casually to the Princess herself was unbelievable, but the true purpose of her joining the maidstaff had been completely unfulfilled until two nights prior.  Until then, she had received almost no useful information or insights by either workers, visitors, or even Princess Celestia that could help her further narrow down who the Blue Knight was!  It had been a frustrating, fruitless search, and she had almost considered giving up, when she read a particular news article.  The publisher was really just a tabloids and gossip paper company, but they proposed an idea she hadn’t thought of.  Perhaps the Blue Knight was an alicorn.
Of course, the bumbling rumormongers attempted to use it as proof that Celestia had a bastard son, but Lavender knew in an instant that they had unwittingly given her the missing piece of the puzzle.  It was a stretch, but now she was almost certain that the Princesses were involved in some way, whether through actual lineage or not.  Calling the stallion an alicorn was also a stretch, however, he had been seen both using magic and flying, and with the events of just two nights ago, that theory seemed to be proven.  
It had all changed though, that night that rocked the city over and over.  She had been inside the castle when she felt the strange tingling chill pass through her, a physical shake quickly following.  She didn’t know exactly what had happened, but in an instant one of the friends she’d made in the maidstaff, a unicorn mare, came running into the room claiming something big was happening just outside the castle grounds, near the Stairs.  In a flurry everypony either rushed to the nearest windows that looked over the steps or away from the possibility of danger. 
 	 She, of course, hadn’t seen anything on arrival, but because of the peculiarity of the event, the majority of the staff decided to leave the castle for the night and head to relatives’ homes.  She had almost done the same, seeing even the head of her division taking leave in light of the danger, and had been on the doorstep of the castle when suddenly something caught her eyes. 
In the distance, all the way on the eastern side of the city, there was a flash of light, and then several more in quick succession.  She stood frozen as a sudden glow of blue and white lit up the entire neighborhood, light beaming out from in between houses.  Suddenly, the glow was gone, replaced instead by a plume of smoke.  As she watched, she saw something suddenly go flying out of the scene at breakneck speed, trailing what looked like smoke and glowing red.  It looked like a living comet, and before she could even realize it, the thing flew practically over her head and around behind the castle.
Too curious to be worried about the danger, she had raced off the palace grounds and around an unprotected police barrier that halfway blocked off the Stairs.  She barely even noticed the destroyed archway that had hung over it just that morning as her eye caught sight of the smoke trail diving down towards the river.  Rushing down the steps, she found the riverbank and began searching even as the traces of the mysterious flying object were blown away.  
And then, she found him.  The Blue Knight was lying face down on the muddy bank of the river, his back still steaming.  She had almost thrown up at the sight of his gruesome injuries, the burn marks that had scorched him to the bone.  Not knowing exactly what to do, she had pulled him out of the muddy bank completely and dragged him across the grass and to the small rock outlet that would shield him from both birds and ponies.  Somehow, she had instinctively known that wherever she had to tend to him, it would need to be somewhere they wouldn’t easily be spotted.  Slightly exhausted mentally and physically, she proceeded to gather random soft plants and wads of grass to wash the mud off of him, fearing infection.  
The task took until sunup to complete, and by that point she was too tired to continue.  Sighing, she collapsed by him, carefully averting her gaze from his back to not become sickened again.  Still, her gaze occasionally glossed over the black and red tissue, but at the very least, she was also able to see that there wasn’t quite bleeding.  Those wandering eyes also allowed her to see, for what must have been the first time anypony got a look under the Blue Knight’s costume, tufts of a pure white coat singed and bloodied by the horrendous wounds.  
It was only then that it struck her that she was sitting down besides him, saving his life.  The shock had worn off, and now there was a sense of both pride and awe as she sat there, staring him in his masked face.  His entire suit was covered in ash and scorched here and there, torn and ruined like the stallion that wore it.  It was surreal, sitting down besides the invincible legend, and yet, the iron strong image the stallion had touted was now shattered.
An urge to see his face, to remove his mask and uncover the secret identity that was beneath came over her with the realization.  He was still completely passed out and in no good working condition, but for the most part he was at least breathing stably.  She reached out her hoof slowly, touching the fabric of the mask, feeling the fur bend slightly beneath it.  And yet, it was then, when after so many weeks of wondering, the risks she’d taken to find out, that the morality of revealing him struck her.  He was a stallion unlike the rest of them, and probably had a good reason to keep his identity, whether for his safety or others.  She couldn’t be the one to remove from him the choice of privacy, even if it would just be her knowledge. 
With a pathetic chuckle at the twist of fate, she retracted her hoof, begrudgingly consigning herself to obliviousness.  Instead, she sat herself up and once again went to grab water to wash his wounds.  The only problem was that there was still no effective way to bring it to him.  That was until the mare came down the steps suddenly, sending her back to their hiding place with a flash.  How the mare hadn’t noticed them right away was beyond her, seeing as for a few minutes she was able to stare directly at her.  Nevertheless, she did find them, and that was where her story got even more confusing.  
The mare, River Lily, had spoken almost as if she expected the secret that Lavender was attempting to hide, though she obviously hadn’t expected the condition of the Blue Knight.  The stress of the night, her choice to keep the Blue Knight’s identity secret, and the sudden arrival of the unknown mare and her peculiar attitude finally broke her emotional walls down.  Desperately, almost pathetically, she had begged River Lily to help, which she did.  
In an instant, the mare had taken charge of the situation as if she had been preparing for it, even commanding Lavender to grab moss of all things.  Of course, not knowing the mare or her intentions with the two of them, she had refused and instead got the flowers that shared her namesake color, doing exactly as River Lily had said. Lo and behold, the flowers actually worked in waking him up, and seemed to even give him some strength.  The stallion who had been nigh on dead mere moments before was suddenly awake and strong enough to groan in pain and lift his head slightly.
From there was a flurry of attempting to cool him off and patching wounds with the large amount of moss River Lily had managed to gather.  When they had finally managed to gain control of his temperature and halt the bleeding, they woke up to the reality of their situation, laughing almost hysterically that they had just saved the life of the Hero of Canterlot.
That was when he decided to pipe up with a bitter quip, and for the first time in her life, she heard the Blue Knight’s voice.  It was harsh, with a good deal of weight behind it, and thanks to the severe wound, it sounded husky and dry.  But it was fitting, as in spite of everything they had done to save him, he acted the same way he sounded, bitter and even annoyed.  Shockingly enough, it wasn’t the first time River Lily and him had met, which brought up a great deal of questions, all of which almost drowned out a shocking detail she would soon come to know as truth.
“The Blue Knight’s a killer and a dangerous stallion,” a mare suddenly said beside her, making her jump as she was wrenched back into her surroundings.  She quickly sat up in her chair, watching as a unicorn mother quickly pushed her son away from a newspaper stand.  Lavender sighed, the start of fright fading.  She often found her mind wandering back to that night and following morning, even though it was only yesterday.  It just didn’t make sense how that stallion had managed to overcome a wound as fast and easily as he had, even though it seemed to have been crippling.  It also had made no sense how he, a hero, could have been so dismissive to her and River Lily, after everything they had done for him.  
Of course, the reason behind the severe wounds and the truth of the situation haunted that memory as well.  He had received the burns shortly after killing a stallion during a confrontation in the streets between him and three stallions.  She still couldn’t quite believe it, but the shocking evidence remained.  Images on the newspapers of the charred remains of eleven houses and a pony, terror among all of the civilians of Canterlot.  Even the Princess herself had spoken of the event.  It was terrible and true.  
All of these details, however, left her with only one suspect as to who the stallion behind the mask could be, and now that she knew who he truly was, a stallion out for himself, hiding his crimes behind a mask, she had no moral qualms with revealing him.  Besides, with what she’d just seen, the small speck jumping from the balcony of one of the castle’s many spires, there was solid evidence pointing to the only stallion left in question, Prince Blueblood.
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	End of BOOK ONE of the 


	BLUEBLOOD SERIES

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