//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: The Thief and the Knight 
// by Dracon_Pyrothayan 
//------------------------------//


FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS! MARES AND STALLIONS! CREATURES OF EVERY SPECIES AND AGE!

Not so long ago, there was a day, and it was much like today.
And on that day, Celestia rose the sun ,  much like she did today ,  and the bakers baked bread ,  much like they did today ,  and the ponies spoke with one another in the streets ,  much as they are doing today (Yes you young sir please do not interrupt the performance if you would be so kind).
However.

Unlike today, a Rumor wafted, then, in the breeze, a tale all the more fascinating for its truth, lilting in our Equestrian Skies. Like water, it burbled through the streets, cascading through crowds as though in flood. Like flame, it rose through building, feeding on all ponies it touched, growing taller and more vibrant upon each telling. The birth of a legend, organic as the elements, growing and shifting and connecting with all that heard it… all that told it….. all who witnessed it.

News shocked many, and inspired others. News on whose significance no two ponies could agree, for no news like it had spread since the days of Star Swirl the Bearded, since Before the Possession of Luna and the Coup of Nightmare Moon, since the days when the Dragon Kings and the Alicorns ensnared the Elements of Harmony.

For on that day, which was much like today, there was a Thief in Canterlot.

Gasp is right, good madam, for such shock is the appropriate reaction to hearing of such Heinous Crime, but this was not some back-alley ruffian who mugged the drunkards leaving the salt-licks, nor was this some highwayhorse forcing the merchants to choose twixt their bits or their, ahem, ‘bits’.  Nay, this was a Burglar, a ghost who managed to empty lockboxes when nopony was looking, in the blink of an eye, or the change of a guard. This was some Taraxippian pacifist who claimed only the treasures of the wealthy.

The Rumor took wing, for not much was known, and ponies lust for detail.  Perhaps the Burglar struck whom she struck out of convenience of the score, and nought else. Perhaps his motives were more sinister, gathering artifacts that would release his dark lord Discord. The argument between those who thought she gave what she stole to the poor like a modern Riding Hood, or if he only stole that which was impossible to steal for the challenge of it, managed to cause rifts in marriages, and spark passions in others.
The Princess’ protégé and her fellow Elements came to the conclusion that it was an eldritch abomination who tunneled in from where the past and future meet, taking the objects for temporal sustenance.

Thus is the power and absurdity of rumor.

But that day, much like today, there was at least one pony who knew the Truth of the matter, for who can know one’s motives better than oneself? 

My fellow ponies, My Audience, My Taleteller’s Court (And my griffon chick why don’t you come up to the front so you can see the show better that’s a sport), I have feasted my eyes upon the Royal Guard’s Dossier of this case, which has been missing for years, as the papers inside are the last thing that The Burglar stole.
This, madams et monsires, is the tale of The Thief and The Knight.