Couriers

Carson was in a very strange mood on Tuesday night, the kind of tense that he usually only got when the household was on the precipice of hosting some sort of large event. But the hunt that had been scheduled wasn't until later, and there was nothing else major on the calendar. His agitation seemed to circle around two wooden boxes on his desk in his office. Thomas had seen him carry them downstairs, and he was extremely curious about their contents.

"Any idea what the bomb is in Herr Carson's office?" Thomas asked O'brien when he passed her in the hallway. "Every time he walks by his office, he sticks his head in to make sure it hasn't gone off."

O'brien scoffed. "Planning on stealing it, then?"

"I'm just curious. Like you would be if you didn't already know what's in there."

"Gifts," she said. "To entice eligible young men."

"Is that so?" When footsteps sounded down the hallway, Thomas got ready to pretend to be walking away, but the noise resided, leaving them in privacy to continue their conversation. "What kind of gifts?"

"Go look yourself if you're so curious."

"Maybe I will," Thomas said, and started off down the hallway. "He never locks his office."

"Pistols," O'brien said, before Thomas could go very far. "For the duke of getting champagne dumped on him, and the other one, the pretty boy."

Thomas raised his eyebrows. "They wouldn't use pistols for the hunt."

"It doesn't have anything to do with the hunt, except in His Lordship's head."

"And what's Carson doing with them?"

"You can't exactly put something like that in the post, can you?" O'brien said. "He has to get them sent by courier, and in a timely manner because they're meant to go with the invitation."

"Don't see what all the fuss is, myself. Isn't that what they hire a driver for?"

"Haven't you heard? He's busy driving the young ladies all over the country, day in and day out."

"Hard to imagine that they have that many places to go."

O'brien was about to say something in response, but she clammed up when a door opened down the hall. This time, the footsteps approaching down the corridor were real, and Thomas and O'brien had to abandon their conversation for good.

Thomas let the issue of Carson's stress fall out of his mind until just before dinner, when he saw Carson talking to William in the servants' hall. Thomas was mending the leg of one of the livery pants, which had a loose hem. Even with his bad hand, sewing wasn't too hard.

"William, I am going to need you to run an errand tomorrow." Carson said, when William came in to get ready to eat.

William was visibly surprised. "Of course, Herr Carson."

"The invitations for His Lordship's hunt need to be delivered in person to the Duke of Crowsburg and Count Lohengramm."

"Doesn't the duke live far, sir?" William asked.

"His estate is near Wolf Point, yes."

"That's a long way by train, sir," William said. "I don't know if I'd be able to see both of them in a day."

"Train?" Carson asked. "You'd need to take one of the cars."

"He can't drive," Thomas said, cutting in to the conversation. "Can you, William?"

"What do you mean, you can't drive?" Carson asked.

William flushed. "I lived in the city all my life before I came here, sir," William said. "My family never owned a car."

"Gods release me," Carson said, and started to turn away.

Thomas put his mending down on the table. "I'll go, Herr Carson," he said. "I can drive."

"You will do no such thing," Carson said. "Not after what happened with the duke."

"You can't very well send Anna or any of the other maids, and I'm sure yourself and Herr Bates can't be spared," Thomas said. "And with Tom busy, there's not many other choices."

Carson stared Thomas down. "And you think the duke, or Count Lohengramm, for that matter, would appreciate you showing up on their doorstep?"

"I imagine they've already forgotten my face," Thomas said. "And if they haven't, I would like the chance to prove that I'm capable of something, at least." He flexed his gloved hand, then tucked it under the table. "And the duke did say not to consider it any further."

Carson grappled with the problem.

Before he could come to a conclusion, Thomas spoke again. "I could always just drive William, and have him actually do the delivery."

As he had expected, Carson rejected this ridiculous suggestion out of hand. "And have no footman for the day? I think not. You're not being paid to be the chauffeur, and William is not being paid to be ferried around the capital like a prince!"

"I can do it, Herr Carson," Thomas said.

Carson scowled. "If any single thing goes wrong-"

"I'm not incompetent," Thomas said.

Carson just shook his head and left.

"Don't know why you're in such a hurry to volunteer," William said, frowning as he sat down across from Thomas.

"I'm glad I can be useful to the household in some way that other people can't be," Thomas said, not even bothering to keep the smugness out of his tone. He finished hemming the pants and stood up to put them away.

Thomas felt very, very good when he drove away from the Grantham estate the next morning, dressed not in his usual livery but in a nicer suit that Carson had found for him, perched proudly in the driver's seat of a car that was far fancier than he would ever normally have the opportunity to drive. As soon as he was away from the estate enough that no one would see him do it, he rolled the windows down and let the fall breeze flutter across his face. The sunlight danced on the yellow leaves that scattered beneath his tires.

The freedom of escaping the Crawley household, at least for the day, made Thomas resolve to buy a motorbike as soon as he could. He wouldn't be able to keep a whole car while he was working for the Crawley family, but something small he could probably find a way to tuck inside the garage, or behind an outbuilding, without anyone making too much of a fuss. And it would give him freedom to go places on his day off. He had come to Odin looking for some measure of freedom, so he should do what he could to claim it.

The directions he had been given said to go to Count Lohengramm's residence first, which Thomas didn't mind at all. He wasn't very familiar with the layout of the city, but when the GPS instructed him to turn towards a sleepy looking exurb, he wondered if he should call Carson to confirm that he was headed to the correct address.

He turned on to Linbergstrasse, then parked on the street in front of a two story house with a garden that someone had started to prepare for winter: a fountain had been wrapped in plastic sheeting to shield it against the snow. It was a nice house, to be sure, but it was not the house of a count. Still, he figured that before he called Carson to get a new address, he could dawdle and enjoy the day by just making sure by ringing the doorbell that he was in the wrong place.

He got out of the car, and took the heavy wooden box containing the pistols intended for Count Lohengramm out with him. He strolled up to the door, and rang the doorbell. From inside, a woman called, "Coming!" and the door opened after a moment to reveal a chubby older woman in dowdy dress. She smiled up at him. "Hello, what can I do for you?"

"I'm here to see Count Lohengramm," Thomas said. "Is he home?"

The woman smiled wider. "Ahh, the admiral. I'll see if he's here." Thomas hid his surprise that this was indeed the correct house, and he nodded his thanks when she let him in. He could see a dining room down the hall, and a large wooden staircase to the second floor. "Who should I say is calling?"

"A messenger from Lord Grantham."

She nodded, and hustled her way up the stairs, vanishing around the corner. She knocked on a door, and a moment later he could hear the tone of a quiet conversation between her and a familiar voice. The woman reappeared on the stairs a moment later.

"You can come up, dear," the woman said, and started to make her way down the stairs. Thomas hurried up, and they passed each other.

At the top, he found none other than Siegfried, the servant of Count Lohengramm's that he had spoken to outside of the party. His red hair was even more distinctive in the daylight, and when he saw Thomas he broke into a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling up. "Good morning, Thomas," he said. "Please, come in."

"Thank you," Thomas said, stepping in to the upper rooms as Siegfried held open the door for him. The suite was very nice: hardwood floors and exposed beams gave it a rustic look, but the fire crackling in the hearth was warm and the furniture was tasteful. There wasn't much in the way of decor, aside from a bookshelf and what Thomas recognized as a photograph of Count Lohengramm's older sister hanging on the wall.

Siegfried stepped further into the living room and said, "Please, take a seat. Would you like some tea? I just brewed a pot. Or coffee?"

Thomas hesitated. "Is Count Lohengramm here? I have a message for him from Lord Grantham."

"No," Siegfried said from the kitchenette he had gone to. "Lord Reinhard is at an OPS meeting today. Probably won't be back until around 17:00."

"Should I come back later?" Thomas asked. "I have to deliver a message to the Duke of Crowsburg as well, so I'll be back in this area fairly late."

"No, no," Siegfried said. Despite Thomas not having answered his question about beverages, Siegfried emerged from the kitchenette bearing a cup of tea in each hand. He held one out to Thomas, who was still standing with the pistol box clutched under his arm, and he was forced to put it down on the coffee table in order to accept the tea in his good hand. Siegfried smiled when he took it, and nodded at the couch. Siegfried sat in the armchair across from him.

Thomas felt quite daring sitting down on the count's furniture. It would have taken a lot of daring for him to do the same at Lord Grantham's estate. But Siegfried seemed very comfortable, so Thomas relaxed, even if everything about this was strange. The tea was good, at least.

"I'm glad to see that you're still employed by the Crawley family," Siegfried said after taking a sip of his own tea. "I hope you didn't get in too much trouble."

"Your idea of apologizing to the duke worked," Thomas said. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he said. "I'm happy that it turned out." He looked down at the box on the table. "What message did Lord Grantham send you here to convey?"

"It's an invitation for Count Lohengramm and his staff to attend a hunt at the Grantham estate," Thomas said. "There's a letter in the box."

Thomas's eyebrows shot upwards as Siegfried took the box from the coffee table, opened it without hesitation, and took the letter inside. He walked over to a writing desk in the corner and pulled out a letter opener to slice the envelope open. When he finished reading its contents, he looked back at Thomas, who was aghast.

"Count Lohengramm doesn't mind that you open his correspondence?" Thomas asked.

"No, of course not," Siegfried said. "I handle most of his mail for him."

"I see."

Siegfried sat back down and took out one of the pistols from the box. "These aren't for hunting, are they?"

"No, they're just a gift," Thomas said. "Lord Grantham can provide guns for the hunt itself if Count Lohengramm doesn't have his own."

Siegfried nodded. He was turning the silver-handled pistol over in his hands, checking its mechanisms and looking at it with a keen eye. "These are quite nice," he said. "Though I hope they won't see any use. Please convey Lord Reinhard's thanks to Count Grantham, and tell him that Lord Reinhard and a selection of his staff will attend his hunt." There was unexpected steel in Siegfried's voice, enough that Thomas didn't question how a servant could dictate the schedule of a count.

"I will," he said.

Siegfried smiled again, and the tension in the room dropped enough that Thomas could relax back into his seat, sip his tea, and look around. Now that his task was accomplished, he was more curious than ever about the strange way in which Count Lohengramm seemed to live. "Is this Count Lohengramm's estate, then?" he asked.

"No, this is a rented house. You met one of the landladies coming in. Lord Reinhard has lived here for several years, when he hasn't been in space. When he was granted his title—just a little while ago—he was given an estate, but he hasn't yet been convinced to move into it. I'm sure he will eventually."

"It seems strange, if you don't mind me saying."

"Lord Reinhard is very used to people finding him unusual."

Before he could stop himself, his voice half-bitter, Thomas said, "He's lucky he can get away with being unusual."

Siegfried didn't take offense and nodded, looking past Thomas out the window. "Maybe," Siegfried said. He hesitated a second, and Thomas waited to see if he'd say something else. He did, in a contemplative voice. "Lord Reinhard has power, and talent, and some measure of protection—it does give him more freedom than most, in some ways. But I often get the sense that he would change nothing about himself if he had less of those things."

"And you admire that about him?"

Siegfried's smile was strange. "I encouraged him to move out of this house, if that answers your question."

It didn't, but Thomas didn't press. Although Siegfried was being quite garrulous, he didn't want to overstep and end the conversation early. His curiosity kept him in his seat. Siegfried seemed to trust him, though Thomas couldn't have possibly said why, and from that, Thomas was getting a much clearer picture of what the master-servant relationship truly looked like in this strange little house. "Suppose it's hard for people who are born different to change who they are," he said.

Siegfried looked at him for a moment. "The world is changing, Thomas. It has to, because people like Lord Reinhard are going to make it change."

"I'll have to see that to believe it," Thomas said. "But good luck to him."

"I'll pass along your well wishes."

Thomas barked out a laugh. "Don't tease me. He doesn't need to know the opinions of a footman."

"Lord Reinhard likes to know that people are on his side."

With some regret, Thomas finished his tea. "Will you accompany Count Lohengramm to the hunt?" he asked, gesturing to the open box with the guns on the table.

"Yes," Siegfried said. "If you're looking for a list of Lord Reinhard's staff who will come, you can tell him it will likely be Rear Admirals Mittermeyer and Reuenthal, Captain Mecklinger, and Captain Kircheis."

"Thank you," Thomas said. "Herr Carson will be glad to know that."

"Of course. If there's any other logistics you need, feel free to call me, and I can help sort it out."

"You do a lot around here, don't you?" Thomas asked.

"Whatever Lord Reinhard needs from me," Siegfried said.

On the long drive to the Duke of Crowsburg's residence, Thomas couldn't stop thinking about Count Lohengramm and Siegfried. He couldn't help but be jealous. It was clear that even if Siegfried was performing the duties of a valet or a man-of-all-work, he was also much more than that. Even if it had just been the casual trust that the count had in him—opening his mail!—Thomas probably would have been jealous. Certainly Bates didn't open Lord Grantham's mail for him. But it was undoubtedly more than that, and Siegfried didn't mind that Thomas knew that it was more.

Although he tried to keep his attention on the road, his imagination kept wandering to Count Lohengramm and Siegfried alone in their apartment. Perhaps in the evenings, Count Lohengramm would sit on the couch before the fire, and Siegfried would sit at his feet. He pictured Siegfried dressing Count Lohengramm, running his hands down his side to clear wrinkles in his pristine admiral's uniform. Maybe Count Lohengramm allowed him to brush his golden hair.

He wondered what kind of lover the count was. The cool and detached expression that Lohengramm had worn all through the party gave no hints as to what he would be like, so Thomas was free to ponder whatever suited his fancy. It certainly was an appealing image to picture Siegfried on his knees before the count, the count's fingers lost in Siegfried's blood-red hair, his uniform trousers around his ankles. But it was equally thrilling to picture the taller Siegfried leaning over the count, splayed out and delicate on dark silk sheets, trailing his solid hand down the count's chest as it rose and fell with his rapid breathing.

Thus occupied, the long drive went by quite quickly, and Thomas arrived at the duke's estate in the late afternoon. The duke's home was the kind of building that anyone would look at and know belonged to old nobility. Heavy stone atop a tall hill, imposing against the sky that was beginning to tilt towards sunset. There was the distant smell of the ocean on the wind, though Thomas rolled the car windows up as he drove through the gates. He was somewhat concerned that he might be interrupting the duke's dinner, but there was no sense in dawdling.

No one here knew him, and he wasn't dressed much like a servant, so Thomas took advantage, and walked directly up to the main door after parking the car in the front drive. A stern looking older man opened the door for him and asked his business. Thomas stated that he was an emissary from Lord Grantham, and he was led into the library, which was dimly lit but well appointed. He didn't sit while he waited, but did examine the trinkets that sat in a display case beneath one arched window: delicately carved little ivory figurines of dancing figures.

"My father collected those," Philip said, coming into the room and startling Thomas. He shut the door behind himself, and when Thomas turned around, he smiled. "Isn't it a little bold of you to come here, Thomas?" The way he pronounced the name, with a little trill, set Thomas's heart beating just a little faster than it already was.

"I'm here on official business, Your Grace."

"Is that so? I'm surprised that Lord Grantham would have you come to see me on official business."

"I asked to come."

"So, it was bold of you, after all."

"Perhaps."

Philip came closer, standing near enough that Thomas could smell his cologne. He might have reached out towards him, but the damn box with the pistols in it was in the way. Philip noticed it, and nodded at it. "What's this?"

"A gift, from Lord Grantham, and an invitation to a hunt."

"Right, he had mentioned something about that." Philip took the offered box, lifted the lid, raised his eyebrows, closed the lid, and set it down on a nearby table. "I hope he doesn't expect me to hunt with those."

"No," Thomas said. "He'll provide guns during the hunt. That's just a gift."

"A strange gift for the man who's intending to court his daughter."

"Count Lohengramm was also given a set."

"Was he, indeed? Did you deliver that one, as well?"

"I did."

"And what did Count Lohengramm think about it?"

"He wasn't home when I delivered it."

"A pity," Philip said. "I suppose I shall have to thank Lord Grantham somehow."

"He's eager for you to marry Lady Mary. That would be thanks he's looking for."

The duke's smile was thin. "It speaks badly of a woman for her father to be too eager to see her married, you know."

"I wouldn't, particularly," Thomas said, which made Philip laugh.

"Well, it's not going to stop me, anyway. Not unless I discover there's a reason he's so interested in marrying his daughters off." He laughed, mostly to himself. "If it's because they have a sullied reputation, I suppose I don't have much right to complain."

"Do you have a reputation, Philip?" Thomas asked, injecting a coy note into his voice.

"I should hope not." But his eyes wrinkled with amusement all the same when Thomas addressed him by name. Thomas took this as invitation to take a step forward, and he brushed his hand down Philip's arm. Philip stilled Thomas's hand with his own, catching his fingers. He glanced behind himself, more nervous than he had been in the Grantham house, and then pressed a swift, fluttering kiss to Thomas's knuckles, then let his hand drop. "Not here," he said. "Not now, anyway. I have a cousin coming for dinner in about a half hour."

"We could be fast."

Philip shook his head. "Can you get into the capital easily, by any chance?"

"I can take the train."

"I'll be in the city this Sunday. I'll have a room in a hotel." He walked away from Thomas and found a pad of paper and pen on the table, on which he scribbled down an address. "Come here at four."

"What are you doing in the city?" Thomas asked.

Philip just smiled and handed him the paper. Thomas folded it and tucked it in his pocket.

"We'll have a good time," Philip said.

"I was wondering," Thomas began, but Philip held up his hand.

"Is it something better discussed when we have more time?" he asked.

Although Thomas hadn't even broached the question, he felt like he was already being dodged, and he frowned. Philip smiled and pressed his thumb to the corner of Thomas's mouth.

"Don't pout, Thomas" he said. "I will see you soon, and we'll have all the time in the world. Besides, you should know that I keep my promises."

Although it was a long drive back to the Grantham estate, Thomas had no desire to make it go any faster. The day had been a change in his drudging routine, and he didn't want it to end. Driving the car around was enough to briefly entertain visions of stealing it and driving off into the night, never to be seen again, but this was a less entertaining thought than picturing Sunday, and his promised meeting with the duke.

As an excuse to himself for prolonging his trip, Thomas decided to make sure he knew where the hotel he was supposed to meet the duke at was actually located. He was going to have to get there by train and by foot, but even having a general sense of the area would help. He was still not very familiar with the city, and he wanted to be.

The city streets were quieter at night as he drove through them, traffic considerably lessened. He drove slowly, carefully taking in the sights, going through the brightly lit areas full of bars with their jaunty music spilling out into the street and the considerably stiller financial areas of the city, where all of the marble steps led to buildings silent for the night, with lone guards stalking through the lobbies. The GPS took him on a winding route, and even when Thomas saw the hotel, a nice place from the looks of it, he wasn't sure if he would know how to get there by walking. He put in the location of the train station, to try to map that route, and drove along it, making mental note of the landmarks.

As he did, Thomas caught a pedestrian in his headlights, walking along swiftly and constantly glancing behind himself. Curious, Thomas looked closer, and realized with a start that the man's face was familiar. Though the man quickly vanished from his view, Thomas would have sworn that he was Tom, the Granthams' chauffeur.

Quickly, Thomas turned around at the nearest intersection, causing the GPS to complain, and drove back to follow the man. He arrived just in time to see him enter a nondescript brick building, which only stoked his curiosity further, but did not allow him to confirm who it was.

He circled the block, wondering if the man he thought was Tom would come out again, but he didn't, and so Thomas reluctantly turned back towards the Grantham house.

When he got back, the servants' hall was mostly empty, except for Anna and Bates, who were sitting at the table, both reading books and sneaking smiles at each other. Thomas was happy to interrupt their moment when he came in.

He held up the car keys. "Is Tom around?" he asked. "These are his."

"What kept you out so late?" Bates asked. "It's not that far of a drive to Wolf Point."

"Traffic," Thomas said.

"I'm sure there was," Bates said.

"I haven't seen Tom," Anna said. "He might be in his room. You can always just leave the keys in Herr Carson's office."

"I'd prefer to give them to Tom," Thomas said. "I don't want to be accused of snooping."

"Is there a reason you'd think someone would accuse you of that?" Bates asked.

"It never hurts to be too careful, around here," Thomas said. "If you don't watch your back, someone might shove it, is all."

Bates stared at him, and Thomas turned and stalked away. He heard Anna ask, "What was that about?"

And Bates replied, "He's paranoid, that one. I wouldn't pay him any mind."

Thomas scowled and went to check Tom's room. He wasn't there. He stuffed the car keys back in his pocket. He could ask Tom where he was tomorrow morning when he returned them. Maybe that could be useful information.

Author's Note

if these scenes don't follow the screenwriting maxim of "start late", they at least do follow the second half: "leave early" lol

i want to make a valiant effort to get this fic finished this month which is why this chapter was so fast in coming lol. it was also fairly short b/c i continue to simply move the pieces around the chessboard. maybe i spend too much time on that but eh at least the conversation with kircheis was fun i think haha

continuing Kircheis's Great Mistaken Identity Snafu. thomas that man is not a servant he's a captain in the imperial fleet... lol. this confusion is going to continue for a little while longer because i think it's hilarious. kircheis just wants to be friendly b/c he's a nice dude. and i think thomas is remarkably un-spiky to basically anyone who shows him the slightest overtures of kindness (sadly rare...)

anyway can thomas drive in DA canon? i don't think so. but it was convenient for the plot for him to be able to here lol. also i made william a city boy instead of the horse girl he is in his heart. i mean he can be a horse girl in spirit too but ykwim.

i'm sorry lord grantham, reinhard von lohengramm is not going to marry edith. it is simply not in any cards whatsoever lmao.

aaaanyway. socials: javert on tumblr, natsinator on twitter, most of the rest of my writing is here on ao3, and you can join my discord if you like discord. gg/2fu49B28nu