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[Rolzup]

Urbane Outfitters, Indeed

Dispensing justice is all well and good, but there are practical considerations that the popular novelists rarely address. What, for example, is one to do with the remains of those to whom justice has been dispensed?

For the most part, this was unlikely to be a grave concern. A few sailors more or less are unlikely to be missed, and the ironically named "Lucky" was in much the same category.

Lieutenant Phillipe, however...he was a different story entirely.

I've already spoken of his family, and of the wealth and position that they enjoy. A man such as Phillipe's father is unlikely to take his son's death lightly, and would move heaven and earth to find those responsible. And when one considers the many ways in which the dead can be made to speak, both figuratively and literally?

Savur Phillipe, obviously, needed to disappear entirely.

My companions had already divested the late Lieutenant and his lackeys of his valuables -- including his sword, marked with his family crest, as well as a rather interesting dagger with a pommel that looked like a very realistic eye -- and we briefly considered making it look as though he was the victim of a common robbery.

Too chancy, I concluded, for the reasons already given.

And then I had an idea.

WAIT FOR IT....

I will admit that I am not altogether proud of what we did to Phillipe. He was the worst kind of scum, mind you, but even so.

Even so.

There was at least a hint of efficiency to our solution, though. Allowing us, as it did, to resolve two problems at a single stroke.

On the one hand, we had several human corpses that need to be disposed of.

On the other, we had a tribe of Kuo-Toa growing increasingly hungry.

At last, expediency won out over moral and aesthetic considerations. And not for the last time.

This distasteful task accomplished, we had a further problem to consider. What next? Ultimately, we wished to rescue this Joachim fellow of Delphine's...but this would take money, which was in distressingly short supply.

But again, providence smiled upon us. Not only did we require a source of income, but we also needed to dispose of Savur's possessions. Again, one problem solved the other.

But how to sell Savur's things without leaving a trail that would lead straight back to our door? They were clearly marked with his family's crest, and there could be no legitimate reason for us to have them in our possession.

Once more, I had a plan.

KENJI DID, ACTUALLY. BURNE'S PLANS INVARIABLY INVOLVE BLOWING SOMETHING UP, OR SETTING IT ON FIRE. OR BOTH.

Unfortunately, this plan involved a form of the Art that I have not, difficult though this may be to believe, mastered. I speak, of course, of Illusion. Specifically, using an illusion to take the appearance of the late Lucky.

Naturally, I was the only choice for this mission. I am renowned for my acting talents, and very nearly embraced a career upon the stage before discovering that my destiny lay with the Art and Science of Alchemy.

HE CAN'T EVEN ACT POLITE, LET ALONE CONVINCINGLY. UNFORTUNATELY, HE WAS THE ONLY COHERENT ONE WITHOUT AN AZIKHANI ACCENT.

Xian proved useful at this juncture. Combining his "shu" magic with my own Art allowed me to brew an elixir that would enable me to alter my appearance. This accomplished, we took the time to properly classify our discoveries.

Phillipe's Erisian bastard sword was both finely crafted and somewhat magical, as were the bucklers that both he and Lucky had carried. But it was Lucky's dagger, unexpectedly, that proved the most interesting. The dagger, called "Squint", had the most remarkably ability to increase the visual acuity of anyone who peered into the pommel-stone.

Kenji, inexplicably, laid claim to Squint. I allowed him to do so, albeit reluctantly. This ultimately proved a wise decision, and would lead to one of the best laughs I have ever enjoyed.

In any case, my suspicions had been confirmed. Savur's gear was indeed worth a pretty penny. But where to sell it?

There was only one answer to that question, and it was obvious to a man of my taste and sophistication what that answer must be.

Urbane Outfitters.

The very definition of Style over Substance, and the sort of establishment frequented by the nouveau riche, and idle young nobles with delusions of good taste.

THEY HAD NEVER LET BURNE THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR, BUT NOT FOR LACK OF HIS TRYING. OBVIOUSLY, THEY DO HAVE GOOD TASTE.

Things went perfectly, of course. I presented myself as Lucky, and purported that Philippe had sent me here because he was desperate for money to pay off some outstanding gambling debts. A likely story indeed, from what we knew of the man.

They wondered why Phillipe had not come to sell his goods personally, but understood entirely when I told them that he hadn't wanted to risk public embarrassment...or worse, word getting back to his father, Lord Nitin Phillipe.

This, they understood.

Mission accomplished, and gold jingling cheerfully at my side, I made a point of walking about for some time with Lucky's face, hoping to stir up some confusing rumors.

And then, like a ghost, Lucky ducked into an alleyway and vanished...and Burne strode forth once more.

With an idea.

GODS HELP US.