Veronica
Prince Nickles
Northwind

Prince Nickles poured himself his own glass and lapped at the milk. He considered Arin for a moment, shaking his head slightly at how naive the beautiful man truly was. "All beauty, no brains. I met a god once. He smelled of pine nuts and swamp water. He bestowed upon me a sense like no other; one that allows me to procure the wants and needs of the downtrodden," Nickles said. He reached over and set his hand on the man's thigh. "What you want is unlike anything I've ever heard before. You are special. You are special to me," He whispered, allowing his hand to linger. 

The fire burnt out, sending one last ribbon of smoke up with a crack. "My friend died today. I miss him dearly but he really did not deserve to live any longer than he did," Nickles lamented. He blinked away a single tear. "May I show you his old bedroom? I would like some recommendations regarding the repurposing of the space."
Carol
Arin Cragton
Northwind

Arin retreated from the child's touch, confused. "Special? I'm not special at all. Just a worthless pirate sent to do the deeds of others." Arin said, hanging his head. "Why do you care about me? We just met.. And you want my help repurposing a room that your deceased friend lived in? What sense does that make?"

"However yes. I can help you. Constant sailing taught me how to make one space feel like many." Arin said, going against every urge in his body to leave. He knew something was different about this kid. He wanted to know.
Veronica
Prince Nickles 
Northwind

"We just met? Who told you that?" Nickles asked, grabbing hold of the man's hand and leading him up the creaking staircase made of boards so old that they folded under the weight of their footfalls. "My friend was more of a fiend, in the end. He sacrificed himself and his fleas in one last cowardly act of milk soaked hysteria. Imagine living a life so grand," Nickles said as they ascended. The upper level of the brothel looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in a near century. A thick layer of dust coated the floor and cobwebs adorned every doorframe. Nickles sneezed violently in the man's hand. He wiped the bits of spittle from his chin before opening the nearest door, revealing a dark room. He nudged the beautiful man inside. 

"Allow me to light a candle. It's oh so dark in here," Nickles chuckled. He crouched down and vigorously rubbed two sticks together for twenty minutes. To no avail. 
"Allow me to retrieve my tinderbox," Nickles said, chucking the sticks at the wall in anger. He reached into this pocket and held out a diamond encrusted box. "If you touch this, I will bite you as hard as I can." He carefully opened the box and fumbled around until a flame was lit. The room was immediately illuminated in a warm orange glow. Nearly forty oil paintings were revealed. Some were hung crookedly on the walls, some laid flat on the floor, one dangled from the ceiling on a string, and the rest were propped up against the four walls. However, they all had a glaring commonality. Each and every painting depicted Arin Cragton, with Prince Nickles looming in the background. "Beautiful paintings for a beautiful man," Nickles breathed, blowing out the candle and plunging them back into the darkness.
Carol
Arin Cragton
Northwind

Arin looked at the beautiful box, and kept his itching fingers from reaching out. 

"It's beautiful." He said, as the flame was lit. 

"What the fu..." He said, his mind completely blanking. An image flickered into existence of a man painting, then vanished into smoke. Several thoughts, all exactly the same, went flying through his brain with the intensity of a thousand knives being plunged into his skull. All he could muster was a single breath as his face stared down at him from every angle, all painted with breathtaking clarity. 

"What is this supposed to mean?" He asked after a few moments, when his head finally stopped spinning. "I... I.. I don't know you. I ju.. Just met you... Right? I'm not crazy. I swear I'm not. I might be. I can't be. What the fuck.." Arin said, each syllable becoming sharper and angrier. "I might be fucking crazy." Arin said, in his knees, with every painting staring holes through his being. "This has to be a joke. I swear to every fucking god there is if you are playing a cruel game I will kill you myself." Arin said, his mind officially broken, tears pooling at the edges of his eyes.
Veronica
Prince Nickles
Northwind

"My muse, do not be afraid," Nickles said, reaching up to stroke his chin. "If you kill me, you will never get your answer. You know that and I know that, so enough of that talk." Nickles sighed and led Arin from the room. He closed the door gently behind them, breathing in the dust of the hallway. 

"I know this is a great deal for you to process. But, I have the answers you seek. As you have inspired the portraits, I am willing to give you a fair price on them. 990 gold coins per portrait. Not a coin less. It pains me to have to part with even a single piece but you look like a man of impeccable taste and I trust you will treat them well." Nickles held out his hand expectantly.
Carol
Arin Cragton
Northwind 

He looked up from his pitiful position on the floor. "What answers? What do you mean?" He asked, looking at the kid's outstretched hand. He shook his head in disbelief. "Of all the slimy shit you could pull."

"I'm not paying that for a painting I can go get done for far less. I want to know the truth goddamnit. Why do you have PAINTINGS OF ME?" Arin screamed, his voice echoing throughout the house. "Why why why?!" He asked, clenching his fists. His Breaths became slower and steadier, his head finally cooling. "What is the meaning of all of this?" He asked calmly, slowly regaining composure.
Veronica
Prince Nickles
Northwind

The boy shrieked in unrestrained terror as the man shouted at him. He ran. His screams echoed through the brothel, summoning his Knight Rider. A rat of rare breed, golden as the sun, emerged from the corner of the hall. It stared at Arin with beady red eyes. 

"Rodrigo, MURDER HIM!" Nickles shouted from the bottom of the stairs. The rat began to approach Arin, maintaining eye contact. Its whiskers twitched, menacingly.
Carol
Arin Cragton 
Northwind

Arin's eyes went wide, and the only thought in his head was self preservation. "We can talk this out. I'm sorry for yelling. Please call this Rodrigo off of me." Arin said, backing up slowly, matching the pace of the rat. He was backing up out of confusion more than fear. 

He reached behind his back and pulled out a beautiful golden necklace he had stolen from a young woman. "Here. I'm sorry can we please just talk. I just want answers." Arin said, holding it out in front of him.