Khan.
Mystic.
Wild Man.
Senator.
Mercenary.
Crusader.

Most of his lives are lived once and then fade away, but ever stirring in his mind are his Six.

Each lingered on after enduring an experience too terrible to forget, or learning a lesson too important to relinquish.

They whisper to him constantly, some recommending caution, others urging aggression, and still others with more subtle agendas. From time to time he must take one out of the Box; to slake its thirst, teach it a corollary to its lesson, or simply for him to rest. They are his permanent crew, for better or worse, and like any crew they both require discipline and demand respect. Stray too far in one direction or another and they will either shirk their duties or rise up in mutiny.

One voice he does not hear is that of Dagskwerhe, that arrogant child who took what wasn't his and set these events in motion. If he still hides among their ranks, he hasn't spoken for himself in ages. Perhaps he dare not raise his voice. Or more than likely he sleeps forever beneath the waves—a fate he no doubt believes he deserves.

Regardless, it is Victor who now stands between the ocean within and the ocean without. Since he first emerged from the waters over six centuries prior he has taken it upon himself to pilot the ship and determine its course.

Now, as he waits for his ship without to come in, he reminds the others that he is the Seventh, their Captain.

Their patience and obedience will be richly rewarded—but only by him.

A two-part piece by  Horned_Hut