“Captain, this currency of yours,” the Racacalx held up a broad handful of silver coins, “is worth nothing.” As he spoke the coins began to decompose in his rocky palm, the silver disintegrating into dust and blowing away to join the endless sand flats.

“Arr, thrice damned,” swore the Captain, angry but grinning nonetheless, “that sorcerer promised me, not till we were safely at sea.”

“How foolish of you, Maurizio, to think that someone of my noble heritage and bearing could ever have been felled by that scoundrel, death!” Arden struck a noble pose on the stage, his knee bent and his arm raised in a martial salute with the flat of his blade, except that his hand was notably missing a sword. Arden, apparently realizing this too late, grasped uselessly at his belt but found no sword there either.

Tenzons is officially back from its completely unannounced and unprecedented winter vacation. We hope that you’ve all held on in the meantime. Today we’ve got a doozy: the latest chapter in the ongoing saga of Eleyna and Prince Arden. This entry offers a serving of privateerism, a heap of rapscallionism, and just a modicum of seadoggery. Enjoy!

If you’re reading this, then I know a fire burns in your breast. A fire that can only be satisfied by short fiction.

You’ve got the fever. Tenzons has the cure.

With love, Tenzon