Mr. Freestone,

Your father’s multifarious reputation has served us once again. Ten minutes with the local telegram man and we have guaranteed privacy. Admittedly, he’s been trading on one of his old names rather strongly here. Lugh was a warrior and leader more than a trickster, but he had a fair bit of cunning, and you know how and what your father is. He’s really not fond of that part of his existence but a little spear-shaking here and there has gotten us very far, very quickly.

After our success with the Behemoth of Rhodes, we were able to make contact with a Irish scholar, Liam O’Brien. He’s a stout fellow with the arms of a mason, but he’s a cunning one with deep ties to local politics. He purportedly knows the hidden resting place of one of our other candidates, whom your father has nicknamed ‘the thumbsucker giant’, and he’s been trying to wake him up for the past decade. As I understand it, his awakening, his counsel and the magical wisdom of his thumb will directly lead to the success of Home Rule initiatives in British Parliament or, failing that, the success of a Fenian revolt. He takes us to the giant, we do whatever’s necessary to end his coma, we both ask our questions and go our separate ways. I was never much for political strategy, but your father thinks it’s ‘a truly novel plan’, in the tone of voice he gets when someone’s about to be humiliated in a way that’ll echo through history. For my part, I’ve been encouraging O’Brien to pursue Jewish emancipation in Ireland should he succeed.

We’re waiting at a small town in the north while O’Brien and your father test the route. He is farther underground than we anticipated, and we’ll have to get the specimen and the equipment all the way there intact. The drudges are quite happy that we set up our base of operations at a long-established distillery, a mistake in retrospect. Alcohol poisoning shouldn’t be a problem as long as your father gets back in time, but drunken desertions and raucous partying remain an issue. Luckily I took some cautioun in picking our workers; they typically manage to finish fixing the tents and cleaning the specimen tank before they get soused.

I do hope you’re doing well. I know that we are not on the best of terms but your father has been newly distressed lately; there’s some ill-favor in your future and he’s not sure if you’ll avoid it. He has, so I’ve been told, already given you the advice you’ll need, so let me add my own layer of practicality: don’t do it alone. I understand that trustworthy allies in that town will be hard to come by, but if I’m understanding your father, you may be up against a force too dangerous to simply outwit. Test your connections, see what bears fruit. Henshaw is not fond of Lincoln, but they were mostly loyal to the Union. Given the right foe, you may find them on your side.

Do be wary of the mayor though. He suspects something.