Work Header

All of a Good Deed Punishable

Work Text:

Wien, January, 18——.

My Dearest Friend,

In times of great peril I would have believed the Human Race to have the ultimate capacity to fully comprehend its threat and appeal to the forces well beyond our understanding for much-necessary succour. This belief has yet to leave my Being—of this I would swear against any who would question these words, for I know them to be true—yet this grey morning, apart from the land I call Mother, a sense of restless foreboding has encapsulated my every thought and action.

This threat we face from an enemy of our own kin is beyond the comprehension of a rational mind in that the audacity of standing against the Great Ones baffles all the senses and diminishes any and all understanding of such a dogma. Perhaps this very endeavour of seeking rationality where none is to be found represents the flaw in my own feeble reasoning. Yet I cannot abandon all hope as we enter this novel stage of time and place.

Few instances in my unworthy existence have troubled me more than the notion that a Restorationist cause exists to stand against us and all we hold dear. Murder! Treason! Humanity itself is in danger by this the most foul of plots. I but wish it were in my direct power to stand against the threat as you yourself surely do even as I write these paltry words. The work you have entrusted me with shall have to be enough to assuage my need for Action.

Albion itself is in the most honourable of hands as long as it but contains your Being.

I shall endeavour to transmit to you any and all news concerning the work you have entrusted me with as swiftly as humanly possible.

Be well, Dear Friend,


S— M—.


Of you I did not think as I heard a lonely fly buzz through my mind as I woke in a city far removed from that which we, the both of us, call Home.

Many hours, minutes, seconds, mere shards of moments I have scarcely spent in idle contemplation of that which we consumed and consummated in the hours of dawn preceeding my departure to the Continent.

I would waste ink and paper to avoid describing the gentle bloom and plush of those hours before we had been oh so rudely interrupted by a hansom cab demanding I retain its services, as arranged, and meet my ship to embark on this most essential work.

Words are, as always, a failure to me, and I would halt employing them altogether if I were but in your company for always. Alas, the necessity of letters will for always be with us.)