Truthseeker

by RB_

In Search of Truth and Justice 2

“Worst. Vacation. Ever,” Lyra groaned, dragging her hooves down her face. The low rumble of the moving train provided a constant backdrop to her complaints.

“Lyra, we’re in Appleoosan territory and it’s July,” Bon Bon said. “What were you expecting?”

“Not this!” She turned to Octavia, who had claimed the window seat. “Are you sure the windows on this train don’t open any wider?”

“Believe me, Lyra, I wish they did,” she said, fanning herself with a hoof. “You’ll get used to the heat soon enough. Just be glad you won’t have to do it in twenty pounds of fur.”

Her ears twitched as the train’s whistle blew. “I think we’re coming up to the station,” she said, even as the train’s steady vibration began to lessen.

Soon enough, the train drew to screeching a stop, steam billowing across the dry earth. A small group of ponies filed out, Lyra, Bon Bon, and Octavia among them. Octavia took point, leading the three down the town’s singular street. The town bustled in spite of the heat, ponies taking shade beneath an assortment of wide-brimmed hats as they went about their business. Lyra could see a few buffalo milling about as well, their large hairy bodies reminding her of yaks.

Strains of music tickled Lyra’s ears, growing louder as Octavia brought them up to a building with a pair of saloon doors across the front.

The saloon was surprisingly crowded, Lyra thought, considering the early hour. Stallions and mares lined up at the wooden bar, the drinks in their hooves ignored for the time being as their attention was pulled elsewhere. The aged unicorn behind the counter was similarly ignoring the glass and the rag in his magic as he looked to the raised platform on the side, along with most everypony else in the building.

Lyra followed their gaze to the stage, the wooden boards of which bounced and reverberated with the hoof-falls of an assortment of dancers. Their frilly dresses billowed out as they pranced about to the excited tune of the other mare on the stage: Fiddlesticks, stood on her hind legs and sawing at the fiddle in her fore. Catching Lyra’s gaze, she winked without breaking her bow’s stride.

“This way,” Octavia said, drawing Lyra’s attention back. She led them over to a table in the corner, removed from the rest of the patrons—save for the lithe mare sitting at it.

She emitted a sound somewhere between a squeal and a squeak as they approached. “Octavia,” she said, her voice lightly dusted with Prench.

“Hello, Fleur,” Octavia said as she sat down. “It’s… nice to see you.”

“And you.”

Lyra didn’t need her extra sense to tell her they weren’t being sincere, but it triggered nonetheless.

“And I see you have brought some friends!” Fleur leaned over the table towards Bon Bon, resting her chin on her hoof. “You must be Sweetie Drops, no? I’ve heard a lot about you…”

“So has everypony else, apparently,” Bon Bon said. “I go by Bon Bon, now.”

Fleur hummed. “Well, whatever it is you call yourself, I hope you live up to your reputation. I’d hate to be, hmm… disappointed.”

Bon Bon drew back from Fleur’s smile. “I’ll... do my best.”

“Oh yes, we’d hate to disappoint, wouldn’t we?” Octavia said. “But you needn’t worry—I’m sure Bon Bon can surpass even your lofty standards.”

“We will see.” Fleur said. “Hopefully her bite lives up to your bark, Cabot.”

Octavia grit her teeth, her lips peeling back slightly like a dog displaying its canines, and Fleur’s smile grew all the more smug for it.

She turned her attention to Lyra.

“And you are?”

“Erm… Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings.”

“Heartstrings, Heartstrings…” Fleur tapped her hoof against her chin. “It is not ringing a bell. You are a monster hunter? You do not look like one.”

“Uh, no, not really,” Lyra said.

“You are a powerful mage, then?”

“No...”

“…A shapeshifter?”

“You could say I’m kinda the opposite?” Lyra said with a shrug.

“Then why are you here?” Fleur asked.

“She’s with me,” Bon Bon said, draping her foreleg over Lyra’s shoulders and drawing her slightly closer.

Fleur hummed dismissively. “Well, as long as you do not get underhoof.”

Any further conversation was interrupted by the end of the music, heralded by clapping, stomping, and a fair bit of hollering from the audience. Fiddlesticks took a bow, then hopped down from the stage.

“You’ve gotten better,” Octavia remarked as Fiddlesticks pulled up a stool.

“Shucks, thank you kindly,” Fiddlesticks said. She patted her abdomen. “Crowd liked it, too. Reckon I’ll be fine on food for the rest of the week.”

“Anyway, down to business. We’ve got supplies ready out back, courtesy of Mrs. Fleur here. Everypony good for carrying?”

Nodding heads all around.

“Alrighty. We’ll be heading pretty much due south from here; we should hit Silver’s camp before nightfall.”

─────

The trek through the desert had been long, arduous, and mostly uneventful. Lyra’s back had been strained somewhat by the weight of the saddlebags she had elected to carry, but she had persevered. Octavia had taken on the worst load, and, upon reaching a far enough distance from town and shifting into her partial form, had doubled it, easing the backs of all of her companions.

Save one.

Fleur had not, as Lyra might have expected, shied away from her share of the labor. In fact, she had elected to carry their supply of water, and carried it with just as much grace and poise as if she had been carrying feathers.

Not that that stopped her from complaining about the heat, but she was hardly alone on that front.

Lyra wiped the sweat from her brow with a damp cloth. “Mph, Celestia… would it kill you to tone it down just a little?” She looked over to her left. “Hey Octavia, how are you holding up?”

“I’ll live,” Octavia said. “At least the fur will be useful once night falls. It’ll be just as cold then as it is hot now.”

“Must be nice, having your own built-in blanket.”

“Usually, yes.”

“Perhaps you should try panting,” Fleur said. “That is what dogs usually do, no?”

Octavia let loose a low growl, the kind which made Lyra flinch and Bon Bon tense up. “Would you care to say that again, dear?” she said, the weight of her teeth heavy in her voice.

“Oh, did you not hear the first time? The fur must be clogging your ears.” Fleur cleared her throat. “Perhaps you could try—“

“Would you two knock it off?” Fiddlesticks hollered back from the front of the group. “Honestly, I don’t get why we keep inviting the two of you back! It’s the same darned thing every year!”

Lyra quickened her pace until she was walking beside Fiddlesticks. “Hey, what’s the deal with those two anyway?” she asked.

“That’s a complicated question,” Fiddlesticks said. “It’s sorta like a rivalry—a really heated one. Fleur comes from a family of monster hunters, y’see. She’s been trainin’ since the day she was born, and she’s really strong.”

“Right.”

“But she expects anypony else who deals in monsters to have the same sort of dedication and skill she does, and Octavia didn’t live up to that when they first met. Octavia, o’course, thought that was dumber than a heaping helping of dung pie! They’ve been goin’ at each other ever since.”

“Plus,” Fiddlesticks said, “it don’t help that Fleur’s a born-and-bred monster hunter, and Octavia’s one of the things she hunts.”

“Oh. So when she said she hoped Bon Bon lived up to her reputation…”

“Exactly. She’s gonna have a keen eye fixed on her the rest of the trip,” Fiddlesticks said.

“No pressure, then,” Bon Bon grumbled from Fiddlestick’s other side.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, Bonnie,” Lyra said.

“So am I, but that doesn’t mean I like being appraised,” Bon Bon replied. “Lyra, are you doing alright? Do you need water?”

“I’m fine,” Lyra said. “How much farther is it to the camp, anyway?”

Fiddlesticks smiled. “We’re nearly there! It’s just past those rocks over there, nestled into the cliffside.”

Lyra cheered. With a renewed vigor in her step, she pushed forward. Soon enough, the party had rounded the cliff’s edge, the sun at their backs painting the rock walls a deep orange. The campsite itself was fairly simple, consisting primarily of a dug-out firepit and an empty cooking pot suspended over it.

And around the pit sat two fuzzy bodies, both of whom quickly rose at the group’s approach.

“Howdy, Fiddle!” The stallion with the white ten-gallon hat called out, trotting out to meet them. Behind him followed a big, hulking mass of a buffalo, his coat abnormally pale, who said nothing.

“Howdy, Silver!” Fiddlesticks shouted back. “And hello to you too, ya big lug!”

The two parties met each other in the middle. The two campers took on some of the supplies, the stallion taking Lyra’s bags entirely, much to her relief, and together they carried them to the camp.

Once that was done, they all sat down around the firepit.

“Well, I reckon a round of introductions are in order,” the stallion said. “A-hem. The glade is dark and full of shade.”

“The Owl stands, ever vigilant,” the rest of the present Owls said, the buffalo included.

“Octavia Melody, Howling Symphonist.”

“Bon Bon, Mare in Black.”

“Lyra Heartstrings, Truthseeker.”

“Fleur De Lis, Graceful Huntress.”

“Painted Scout,” the buffalo said in a deep baritone voice, “Spirit Guided.”

“Silver Shot, Undead Ranger,” the stallion finished. “A pleasure, as always.”

Comments

[RB_]

From my notes:

A lie-detector, a changeling, a noble, a werewolf, a lich, a buffalo, and Bon Bon walk into a saloon.

It's times like these I remember why I like this universe.

[TheStratovarian]

"Spirit Guided" huh.. Interesting in if he's a vessel, or more a medium to that sense of it.

Huh, fleur here. Interesting. I wonder, yet again. And this time i'll say so not to be a pondering bit.

I can see fleur being a kill them first, and sort them out later deal. So really, the question is more is she red herring, karmic comeuppance, subversion on the expected, or played true.

Looking forward to seeing how things go.

[Emil]

I hope we get to see that Bon Bon really does know what she's doing, and that her lethal reputation is well-deserved.

[AlicornPriest]

8256623
They're the Lone Ranger and Tonto, of course!

[FanOfMostEverything]

8256578
And the bartender says, "Where's the rabbi?"

In all seriousness, very nice setup and character establishment. I do hope Fleur gets off her high horse a bit, but given how she is one, that may be tricky.

[Camolot the Creator]

Yeah, okay, it is unabashed and unreserved.

I have fallen completely in love with the narrative and the world that you have created here.
Looking forward to more.

[Umbra Animo]

“Silver Shot, Undead Ranger,” the stallion finished. “A pleasure, as always.”

Huh and i was playing shadow of war while reading this

[Maxes Altho]

So, Tonto and a Lone Ranger/Jonah Hex hybrid, huh? Somewhat cliche given the setting, but the setting also makes it work

[Nyperold]

“Hopefully her bite lives up to your bark, Cabot.”

So I just now hit up Wiktionary with the italicized word. For future readers who don't know French: pooch, mutt, cur.

[Skulljack17]

8256578
That's a pretty fun setup to a weirdly specific joke.

Soon enough, the train drew to screeching a stop,

Minor need to edit here, switch these two around.