Unnamed theif-anon

”Ughhhh...“

>”Wakey Wakey Anon,” a voice coos mockingly.

>Prying your face off the floor, you look up at the mint-green mare who’s likely caused this.

“Well good morning sunshine.”

>”Hurry up and move, I need to sweep.”

“And I need to sleep, goodnight.”

>”Anon,” She replies sternly, “hurry up and move your fat ass!”

>You look back up at her.

“Fine, since you asked so nicely…”

>”Just move…”

>You roll over and begin to lift yourself from the bar floor, when a glint catches your eye.

>A small, well-polished gold pendant…

>And just one swipe, perhaps she won’t even notice.

>”Don’t.”

>Drat.

>”Some poor mare that had a little too much was carried off by some stallion and left that there. I won’t let it go missing on my watch.”

“Did she know the bloke?”

>Lyra looks at you, toying with the pendant while examining it. “Hmm? Why should I care? She left it at my bar, so it’s mine.”

“Well, throw me a broom I guess.”

>”Oh, trying to turn your life around and be helpful for once?” She says as she jabs at you jokingly.

“Oh good heavens,” You reply with a smirk, “who do you think I am, some chivalrous knight just dashing to help a maiden?”

>”Good thing you aren’t, otherwise I’d have kicked you out.”

 

>You both sweep until the bar floor is relatively clean, and begin wiping the soot from the windows.

>”So,” Lyra stops wiping, “why are you helping?”

“You know I just love to clean, it’s like a hobby of mine.”

>She looks at you with a mix of disbelief and confusion.

“Fine, I was going to do it to convince you to not make me pay the bill if I was helpful.”

>”You mean you don’t remember?”

>Now it’s your turn to be confused.

“Oh? Remember what?”

>”Last night you came here already hammered, poured a sack of stolen goods on the table, and demanded everyone take a round on you.”

>You stop wiping.

“And you know they were stolen how?”

>”When was the last time you ‘earned’ a single bit?”

“Good point.”

>You throw the cloth in a bin, and start towards the door.

>”Hey! Aren’t you going to help finish?”

>You think for a moment.

”Perhaps this once.”

>”You say that every time.”

“Don’t worry, I promise it’s the last.”

>You see her crack a smile from the corner of your eye.

>”Sure.”

 

>Eventually the bar is cleaned, and you head out into the streets of Canterlot.

>As you trudge through the snow, you are guided by only your lust for gold and a lack of it.

>You think to yourself, [spoiler][/spoiler]“Hmm, perhaps I should stop spending so much on drinks?”

>You stop for a moment in the middle of the street.

“Hahaha!”

>Your sudden laughter is noticed by a few nearby ponies, and they look at you as if you are mad.

>Letting them think what they shall, you continue on your undefined path.

>It isn’t long before you find that you’ve wandered into one of Canterlot’s market districts. The crowds of ponies grow exponentially thicker as they bustle about looking for gifts for loved ones and family in time for Hearthwarm’s Eve.

>It’s a magical time of year, you suppose.

>And the snow is quite a nice double-edged sword.

>You go about the place, pretending to window shop as you, well, window shop, just with a different intent in mind.

>You pass store after store of decorated windows before something catches your eye.

>Tucked away in a little corner is, if signs are anything to go by, a small, quaint antiques shop.

>It may not be the place to have many valuables, but that means little chance of a guard by it.

>You walk in, the warmth of an unseen fireplace greeting you as you wipe some snow off your coat.

>An aged, white unicorn behind the counter greets you with a raspy voice, and you begin to look around.

>The shelves themselves contain little more than dusty, common tomes and trinkets, but by the shopkeeper you notice an unmarked vase, the kind that would not have much monetary value, but perhaps some that’s sentimental.

>Not the kind of thing you would steal, but still useful.

>You head back out into the cold, and search for the nearest alley.

>Finding one not too far off, you head inside.

>No traces of bums seeking shelter…

>As you turn around you see that an orange Pegasus colt has a knife to your chest.

>”Ok, I don’t give a fuck who you are, just empty your bits into the pouch.”

>Perhaps he could be as useful though…

“I’m afraid I don’t have much.”

>He presses the knife against your stomach.

“However, I know how we both could get plenty.”

>”I’m listening…”

 

>You tell him your “master scheme”.

>He would go in to the store, grab the “priceless antique” and run out, pass it to you, and tell the guards the elderly shopkeepers eyes must be failing, for he isn’t in possession of any sort of vase.

>He’s a little suspicious, but the allure of money easily overcomes it.

>The both of you head through the streets while keeping a distance, and upon reaching the shop you both nod.

>He enters the store, and within moments he’s at the counter.

>He turns to run, and as planned the stallion begins to cry out.

>”THIEF! GUARDS! HELP!”

>You see guards begin to rush over form a distance, and look back to the Pegasi.

>He reaches you, and you slam a left hook into his jaw as he passes the vase.

>The colt falls to the ground, clearly stunned by your punch.

>”Hey! What the fuck?!”

>A pair of guards with coats matching the snow falling around you come up and shove the colt between themselves.

>”Son, mind telling me what in Celestia’s name you were doing?”

>”It was him! He had me do it!”

>The guard who spoke looks to you.

“I had nothing to do with it officer, I merely stopped him.”

>”Come on kid, trying to pin the blame on others won’t help you at all.”

“Actually, as a matter of fact I think he’s the fellow whom tried to mug me earlier…”

>The Pegasi lunges at you, only to be held back by the guards.

>”You set me up you bastard!”

“Yes, that’s definitely him, I barely got away with my life let alone my wallet!”

>He fights a bit more, but promptly gives up as the guards start taking him off.

>You see the shopkeeper shuffle his way to you through the doorway.

>He reaches you, hacks a few times, and begins to speak.

>”Oh! You got my vase back! Thank you so much, Mr.…?”

“Anon, Anon Y. Mous.”

>”Well Mr. Mous, I must thank you again for saving my vase.”

”Not a problem sir, but might I ask, is it some form of heirloom, or perhaps a gift from a lover?”

>”Oh no, just a pretty vase.”

>He walks back to the vases original resting spot and places it.

>Fuck, he’s not going to offer you anything.

“Well, uh, I hate to be bothersome, but…”

>”Oh right, a reward, I almost forgot.”

>He goes to grab something out of a small strongbox, and places a few coins in your hand.

>You open your palm, and…

“Merely copper coins,” you mutter to yourself.

>”Oh, not just any, these are from back when…”

>You don’t bother to stay, instead opting to walk out before he finishes.

>You toss the coins into your pocket.

>Well, that was a complete waste of your time.

 

>Heading down the street you ponder just how valuable the coins you acquired are worth.

>You figure at most a couple of bits, at worst not enough for a single drink.

>Oh well, you’ve had worse days…

>Far worse…

>Glancing the area over you decide to try your luck someplace else, perhaps the upper district or one of the castle’s maids will have word on something.

>The castle is likely the better choice. You’ve heard some group has been hitting the upper district hard and fast, looting an entire mansion within a night.

>Probably won’t take someone stealing their business too kindly.

>You pull on your coat’s collar, tip your hat forward, and begin the ascent to the castle.

>It’s not long before you find yourself at the castle grounds.

>As you near your normal entry point, an old servant’s door, you notice that guards are swarming the place, in a manner more akin to patrolling than actively fighting or persuing.

>And they’ve got about three stationed right outside it. Shit.

>You follow the wall for some time, making note of the amount of guards at each possible entrance.

>Only one, an old undercroft long forgotten by all but the oldest residents, remains unguarded.

>You make your way inside, and descend into the dark.

 

>The sound of water dripping is all you hear as you make your way through the ancient set of rooms, placing one hand on the damp, chilled walls as to not lose your bearings.

>you inch your way carefully, time flowing eternal as you pass, until your hand experiences a horrifying sensation.

>You tense up as the tingling prances on your skin, the culprit seemingly dancing around the hairs of your arm.

>The sensation crawls its way up your arm, followed by more as time passes.

>You try not to scream, using all your will power to avoid doing something so detrimental to your stealth.

>It doesn’t work.

“I HATE SPIDERS JOCK! I HATE THEM!” You cry out as you make a mad dash towards the end, trying to shake your arms free of the little bastards as you do so.

>Not a moment too soon you are free of the horrific creatures. Following but a moment later after the rooms outline begins to return with a few rays of light that flow through the ancient door forming the exit, soon followed by detail and finally the color of the stone walls.

>You peak through the door’s cracks to check for guards.

>Seeing none, you free yourself from your personal hell.

 

>Making your way through the rest of the castle is a breeze.

>Most of the guards patrolling the grounds seem to have been relocated from the castle itself, rather than the city.

>You reach your destination, one of the maids' supply closets.

>Opening it, you slip inside and sit.

>Luck is on your side today, and you only need to wait for what feels to be a mere fifteen minutes before the door creaks open.

>The maid feigns surprise.

>“Hello Anon,” she says with a strange mix of annoyance and amusement.

“What, am I becoming too predictable?”

>”Well, you are in here every other day.”

“Well then Fritter, I assume you know what I’m going to ask?”

>”I don’t have any information for you, everyone’s upped security for the holidays it seems.

>You let out a sigh, but perk up as she continues.

>”However, there is something to the north, and I’d gladly tell you if you grease my hooves.”

“How much?”

>”Fifty bits.”

“Deal.”

>You pass her your remaining coins in their pouch, and she feels their collective weight.

>”You’re probably skimping out on me, but it’s good enough. Over the past few months guards have noticed strange activity to the northern border, slightly above the Arctic Circle. Much more recently, one spotted a large city in the area, and supposedly the entire thing is made of crystal.”

“That’s it, just some rumor about a crystal version of El-Dorado?”

>Apple Fritter grins. “Hey, I never said it was much. Besides, I heard Celestia herself talking about it, so it must have some merit.”

>You bid her goodbye, and head back through the castle.

>Reaching the undercroft you stop, the memory of the eight-legged devils still fresh in your mind.

>Thinking for a minute, you formulate a preferable alternative.

>You head outside and locate the nearest guard.

”Hello, any reason security is so tight today?”

>He nearly jumps out of his skin, but quickly regains his composure.

>”Sir, castle grounds are closed to the public by order of Celestia. Please leave the premise.”

“Mind showing me the way out?”

>The guard grunts, then replies, “Fine, this way,” his voice filled with a heavy air of annoyance.

 

>Apple Fritter’s words hang heavy on your mind as you walk back.

>A city comprised of crystal…

>The thought of the treasures that could lie there almost make your mouth water.

>But would it be worth it to chase after what may be a mere myth?

>The thought is interrupted as you notice an orange glow, cast by flames licking the sky as they dance menacingly.

>As you continue walking, the realization hits to you.

>It’s Lyra’s bar.

>You sprint towards the sight, the flames beginning to engulf the building.

>”Why!” Lyra calls out between sobs as she frantically tosses snow at the bar in a hopeless battle. “Why me!”

>You run up to her and she spots you.

>”Anon! Help me put it out!” she says as she tosses more snow.

“Lyra, stop.”

>”I can still save it!”

“Lyra…”

>Her ears perk up, and her voice is filled with determination.

>”I can at least save my stuff! If I can run in fast enough-”

>You hold her back as she makes her way towards the door.

>”Let go! I can grab the stools, and maybe the safe, and rebuild it!”

>She tugs harder and harder, unwilling to accept the situation, but you hold fast.

>”Please!” She yells, her voice falling with every word,“ My home! My home…”

>Giving up, she falls flat onto the snow, the reality of the situation setting in.

>”M-my home… m-my everything.”

>Her ears drop as her eyes begin to fill with tears.

>As you walk over to her she looks to you, seemingly pleading.

>”Where will I go now?”

“Well, you could come with me.”