Angus McFife - The Fallen Soul

Ralathor

From the point of view of Ralathor After his ship disappeared from the horizon, I returned to Hootsman.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"No," he shook his head. "He took my amulet. Now I'm just a cyborg, just like before."
"We have to find him," I said. "With the hammer of Glory and your divine amulet... It can blow up an entire galaxy."
I turned to leave. But Hootsman grabbed my shoulder.
"Ralathor... I know you're still hoping that somewhere deep down it's the Angus you know, but..." he shook his head. "We both know this isn't Angus. I tried to keep him at bay a little, but I failed. The magic of the Knife of Evil is too strong. I should never have allowed him to get out of Schiehallion. I should have realized that despite the spells I had used on him, it would never be him again, but his dark self." I refused to look at him. A single tear slipped down my face. I could still see him in front of my eyes.
When he learned to fly a ship… When he learned to use magic jets, secretly, behind the castle, So that his father would not see it… God, how he broke his mouth when he couldn't slow them down. I myself had to use healing magic So that the king would not know what the young prince was doing.
That sparkle in the blue eyes. That smile that always foreshadowed some badness… He was like a child I had no idea I wanted. I've always lied to him about my age. No one knew my age, nor was I going to reveal it to anyone. But he knew something...
A few years ago on DSS Hootsforce
I stood at the windshield of a space submarine and watched distant stars. At the moment, we were just floating in a vacuum without having the hyperdrive on. The whole crew was asleep. The submarine had warning sensors turned on, so if something appeared in our vicinity, they would immediately pick it up and trigger an alarm that would wake everyone up.
I didn't need to sleep for a few days, so now I was just hanging out on the bridge and watching the infinite universe.
Suddenly, however, something hit me in the back of the head and fell to the floor. First I looked at what it was. A ball of crumpled paper with the coat of arms of Dundee. Then I turned around and looked for the originator of this childish piece.
"Hey," said a young, brown-haired boy with steel-blue eyes, sitting in a Turkish sitting position on the floor, with a plastic spoon in his mouth.
"His Royal Highness has embarked on a journey for a night's snack?" I asked, with an undertone of irony in my voice.
"His Royal Highness ceased to be Royal Highness the moment he left Dundee. From that moment on, he is only the commander, and for the appropriate group of people simply Angus McFife. Without that stupid epithet the thirteenth," Angus said, his lips pursed disgruntled, putting another spoon in his mouth.
"As His Ro-"
"Um..." he cleared his throat and stabbed me with his gaze.
"All right, Angus," I said.
He tapped the ground beside him and pulled out another bowl of what he was stuffing himself with from somewhere.
"Not even the torment about this in the kitchen. I'd get a nice ear for food supplies," he said.
I laughed, which made him frown again.
It was very hard to believe that this boy was the future king of Dundee, an incredibly good strategist and the best warrior, seasoned by fighting with Zargothrax, I knew. Now he looked like a teenager who had managed to seize a closely guarded treasure.
I walked over to him, sat down next to him, and took a bowl of strawberry jelly in my hand. Yeah. He had a soft spot for that.
I took off the hatch and put the first spoon in my mouth. No wonder. It was delicious.
"Hey, Ralathor..." he began.
"Huh?" I asked.
"How long have we known each other?" he asked.
"Practically since the day you came into the world," I thought.
Suddenly, he looked at me and I knew that he was up to something.
"Tell me..." he said. "How old are you?"