Author's Note

[Safe For Woona] [Sad] [Origin Story] [Death]
Characters: [OCs] [Fancy Pants]
By Daxn
Edited by Blonde Blue Eyes

Nobility by Daxn

Sobs and death knells of bells echoed through all of Stupor Mundi's old mansion. The smell of incense left an olfactive clue to where the owner of the mansion currently was.

"Why?!" Stupor Mundi shouted between the sobs as he looked down at the stone floor of the room. "Why did they have to take him away from me, my joy, my most precious flower, the closest thing that I had, comparable to a son from a mare that I never had?"

He gathered the strength to look up, where he saw, once again, the lifeless brown colt covered in white linen sheets and light gray silky veils, a red pillow under his head and a black batiste stripe tied over his mouth. Despite all the efforts of the servants, the signs of the disfiguring sickness were still mostly visible on his face, giving the impression that the colt, in life and health, had a very saggy-looking chin, many round warts on his muzzle and only a few dark yellow strands of mane.

Stupor Mundi remembered very well it was not so before, he thought. He felt the temptation to run his hoof over the dead colt's face, but he resisted, fearing to get infected with the illness.

Perhaps I could go on to join him... Stupor thought, as another stream of tears came to his eyes and his left hoof twitching in anticipation. I am alone here now... no legacy... no chance to have another one...

He put his hoof over the bed's covers before delicately moving it over it with a quake, reaching for the colt's face, stopping shy of touching his ear.

No... I do have somepony here that can carry on my legacy; in fact, there are many, as young as him and as beautiful. But, alas, none of them will ever compare to what I've lost to the Prench Disease... he thought as he retracted his hoof from the body slowly, but moving it forward again, thinking, This will be the last chance to ever touch his pretty face before his body will be consumed by the carrions, as the Holy Rites prescribe, and his bones put in an urn.

Stupor Mundi started to caress the colt's muzzle, passing over his warts and his smooth fur, around the eyes contracted in anguish, petting the strands of mane one last time, finding them to be as silky and pleasant to touch as they were when the colt was alive.

He sighed and moved his hoof away.

"Farewell, my mellow sparrow, my fountain of sweetness..." he paused to sigh again, "my beloved."

Stupor Mundi then turned around, facing the door and the elaborate golden incense burners at the sides, and walked away slowly with his head hanging low. He walked down the carpeted corridor, his grief and the silence as the only compassions in the travel to his bedroom.

Who will ever fill that void? The colts and fillies that serve me are very nice, suave, and educated indeed, but they all, fatally, lack of... something. Something I simply cannot find anymore... As he thought, he had flashbacks of his younger servants giving him "massages" to his most private parts of his body and taking amusement from them. He cringed, a feeling that which he had never felt up to that moment, at the thought of the act, or doing it, for that matter. I-I can't believe myself... I've had tender little foals, parentless or sold ones at that, used as mistresses, in exchange for what? A roof and food?

Now his mind showed images of him at the table, his younger servants at his same table, sharing part of his food: scenes of the colts and fillies he 'owned' getting educated by a tutor, one that he paid handsomely, in a separate room of his mansion--of 'his' little children occasionally going around the yard and the city accompanied by two of his most dependable ponyservants.

Then again... did I ever mistreat them otherwise? he thought, passing in front of a row of his ancestor's busts. I cannot keep this going, he thought... my conscience is knocking on the door asking for the bill for my wrongdoings. I have to do something drastic about it...

Three of Stupor's younger servants, dressed in black robes and wearing lilies in their manes, rushed towards him.

"I-is there anything I can do for you, da- I mean, Excellence?" One of them, a white colt with light blue straight mane asked, fiddling his hooves around and looking away.

Stupor Mundi shook his head, as he turned down the brass knob of his bedroom's door.

"No, Fancy Pants. You don't have to do anything for me anymore, and neither does anypony else. Upper Crust, Caesar, Perfect Pace, Lyrica... everypony. Unless you still want to serve this stallion, with a vacuous shell of morality and decency. Go on, find your way, I'll give you my support whenever possible."