The rooster's crow pierced the early morning air, rousing Richard from his slumber. He blinked awake. As he made his way down the creaking wooden stairs, he could smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Mr. Osborne was already in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a steaming mug..

"Good morning, Master Richard," he said. "Sleep well? Country air can be mighty unsettling for city folk at first."

Before Richard could formulate a response, the back door swung open with a bang. Thomas strode in, his hair still mussed from sleep.

"Morning, Father," Thomas said, his voice still husky from sleep. He turned to Richard. "And good morning to you, Richard."

Thomas stood at the counter, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his thin crisp linen shirt as he worked. His strong, capable hands moved with practiced ease, chopping vegetables for the evening meal. But as Richard watched, he noticed something unusual.

The knife in Thomas's hand glowed with a soft, pulsing light. With each slice, it cut through the vegetables with impossible precision and speed, leaving perfect, uniform pieces in its wake.

"Thomas," Richard said, "What is it that you are using?"

Thomas turned, a warm smile lighting up his handsome face. The fading sunlight caught in his tousled chestnut hair. "Ah, this?" he said, holding up the knife. "It's the latest model. It costs a fortune but makes prep work a breeze."

Richard felt a knot form in his stomach. "For cooking?"

Thomas's smile faltered slightly, sensing Richard's discomfort. "Is something wrong?"

Richard ran a hand through his platinum hair, trying to find the right words. "It's just... where I come from, it should be used sparingly. For important things, you know? Not for... chopping vegetables."

Thomas stepped closer, close enough that Richard could smell the earthy scent of herbs clinging to his skin. "Perhaps," Thomas said softly, "the magic isn't in the tool itself, but in how we use it."

The moment was broken by Mr. Osborne who reached over to put the mug away. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Thomas stepped back, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Not at all, Father. I was just showing Richard some of our kitchen tools."

Taking a deep breath, Richard tried to articulate the beliefs he'd grown up with. "In the city, we're taught that magic comes at a great cost. Each enchanted item requires a magic core."

Richard pointed to the magic core embedded in the knife, permanently fused into the blade.

“We are taught to use magic sparingly, only for the most important tasks, that sort of thing.”

Thomas set the knife down, giving Richard his full attention. "I see. And what do you consider important enough for magic, my Lord?"

“Well, healing, I suppose. Protection. Maybe transportation in emergencies.” Richard hesitated, not wanting to sound condescending. "It's just... where I come from, we have a different relationship with magic. It's not a resource to be consumed and not to be used lightly."

"Those are certainly vital uses. But I can't deny that it makes life so much easier."

"Well, we've got work to do. Thomas, after you show Master Richard how to milk the cows this morning, perhaps you could introduce him to some of our forestry work? We've got that troublesome patch of invasive huckleberry trees in the south wetlands that needs clearing to promote new growth."

Thomas nodded, his expression turning serious. "Of course, Father. I was thinking we might have to use the enchanted axes for that job. Otherwise they will sprout new growth even faster. Come on then, Richard. Let's see how you fare with actual work."

At the mention of enchanted axes, Richard felt a familiar uneasiness settle in his stomach.

Thomas turned towards Richard. “I know how you feel. But out here, it is a necessary evil.”

The barn was a cathedral of rural scents – sweet hay, pungent manure, and the warm, grassy smell of the cows themselves.

Birds chirped their morning songs, and in the distance, they could hear the soft lowing of the cows waiting to be milked. Thomas led Richard to a large, placid-looking brown cow.

"First thing's milking. Ever touched a cow before, my Lord?"

Richard laughed. "I've touched plenty of things you couldn't even imagine, farm boy."

For a moment, Thomas revealed a flash of genuine curiosity. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a smirk. "Is that so?"

Thomas squeezed his hand. "Well, you're in for a treat. It's not as easy as it looks."

As they entered the barn, the earthy smell of hay and animals enveloped them. Thomas led Richard to a gentle-looking brown and white cow, patting her flank affectionately.

"This here's Patsy. Gentlest creature you'll ever meet, which is more than I can say for some."

Richard approached cautiously. Thomas guided him through the process, showing him how to clean the udders and position the bucket. When it came time to actually milk the cow, Richard's first attempts were clumsy and ineffective.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Thomas muttered. "Here, let me show you." He moved behind Richard, his chest pressing against Richard's back as he reached around to guide his hands. "It's all in the rhythm. Firm but gentle, like this."

Richard found it hard to concentrate on the task at hand with Thomas pressed so close against him, but gradually, he got the hang of it. The sound of milk hitting the bucket was oddly satisfying.

"There you go!" Thomas exclaimed. "You're a natural."

"You did well," Thomas said, clapping Richard on the shoulder. "For a noble, that is," he added with a grin.

Richard laughed, surprised by how natural it felt. "I had a good teacher," he replied.

After storing the milk and cleaning up, Thomas led Richard through the winding forest path,

"Not far now," Thomas called over his shoulder. "Try to keep up, my lord!"

They soon arrived at a small, weather-beaten shed nestled between two ancient oaks near the edge of the property. Thomas produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, which creaked open with a protest of rusty hinges.

"Welcome to our armory," Thomas announced, gesturing for Richard to enter.

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The shed was filled with an assortment of tools, most of which he couldn't name. Thomas reached past him to grab two objects from a nearby rack.

"Allow me to introduce you to the Mighty Axe," Thomas said, handing one of the tools to Richard.

Richard took the axe, surprised by its weight. He turned it over in his hands, studying the worn wooden handle and the gleaming metal head.

They made their way to the edge of the wetlands, where a thick patch of huckleberry trees grew wild and uncontrolled.

Thomas strode into the huckleberry patch like he owned it, axe slung casually over one shoulder. Meanwhile, Richard set aside all the tools they were carrying.

Thomas positioned himself in front of a particularly unruly huckleberry bush. "Now, pay attention. I know it's hard for you, but do try."

He gripped the axe with both hands, his muscles rippled beneath his thin linen shirt as he swung the tool in a controlled arc. The blade bit into the woody stem with a satisfying thunk, and the bush trembled, then fell.

"See how I'm aiming for the base?" Thomas explained, pointing to where his cut had nearly severed the stem. "You want to get it as close to the ground as possible. Like this." He demonstrated again, his movements fluid and precise. The bush fell with a soft rustle of leaves.

"Let me show you a few more," Thomas said, moving to another bush. "This way you can see how to handle different sizes and angles." He proceeded to fell three more bushes in quick succession, each with a different technique.

"Sometimes you'll need to clear away some of the lower branches first," he explained, deftly removing some twigs before making his main cut. "Other times, you might need to make two cuts to avoid damaging nearby plants."

Richard nodded. "It seems straightforward enough," he said.

“You know," he said slowly, "I've been thinking about what you told us about the city's use of magic cores. And I still think it's wrong – wasteful and dangerous. But..." he hesitated, seeming to struggle with his words. "I still can't deny that it makes life so much easier."

Thomas continued cutting. The axes seemed to guide his hands with each strike, finding the perfect angle for each strike.

"See? Easy," Thomas said, turning to Richard with a cocky grin. "Even you should be able to manage it.”

"Oh, I'm sorry," Richard shot back, "I was too distracted by your terrible form to notice what you were actually doing. Tell me, do you always look like a drunken bear when you swing an axe, or is that just for my benefit?"

"Big words from someone who probably couldn't tell a huckleberry from a hole in the ground. Care to prove me wrong?"

He gestured expansively at the surrounding vegetation. "Go on then, oh wise one. Show me a huckleberry bush."

Richard scanned the undergrowth, panic rising in his chest as he realized he had no idea what he was looking for. But he'd be damned if he'd give Thomas the satisfaction of admitting it.

"Of course," he said with false confidence, striding over to a nearby bush. "This one right here is obviously a huckleberry. Any fool could see that."

Thomas's laughter rang out, rich and mocking. "Oh, Richard," he said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "That's a native bush. I knew you were hopeless, but this... this is truly impressive."

"Well, if you're such an expert, why don't you enlighten me?”

"You know what? I think I will enlighten you," Thomas said, stalking towards Richard with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Can't have you hacking away at innocent plants, now can we?"

He grabbed Richard's wrist, ignoring his indignant squawk, and dragged him to a different bush. "Look closely," he commanded, his breath hot against Richard's ear.

He took Richard's hand and guiding it to touch one of the plants. "These are huckleberry leaves. Feel how they're oval-shaped and slightly leathery? And see the tiny serrations along the edges?"

Richard nodded.

"Now look at the berries," Thomas continued, moving their joined hands to a cluster of small, round fruits. "They're dark blue, almost black, with a waxy coating that makes them look a bit frosty."

Richard tried to focus on the plant, but all he could think about was Thomas's chest pressed against his back, the man’s strong fingers still circling his wrist.

"Got it?" Thomas asked, his voice low and challenging. "Or do I need to spell it out for you?"

Richard wrenched his arm away, spinning to face Thomas. They were standing so close that he could see the flecks of gold in Thomas's eyes, and could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"I've got it," Richard snapped. "I'm not an idiot, despite what you might think."

Thomas's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Prove it," he said softly. "Find me another huckleberry bush. Unless you're scared of being wrong again?"

"Fine," he bit out. He turned, scanning the vegetation with newfound intensity. This time, he spotted the distinctive leaves and berries Thomas had pointed out. "There," he said, pointing to a bush about ten feet away. "That's a huckleberry."

"How about that one over there?"

Richard turned to where Thomas was pointing, a bush about ten feet away. Without even needing to touch it, he could see the distinctive leaf shape and the glint of dark berries. "That's a huckleberry too," he said with certainty.

“What about that one by the large oak?"

Richard scanned the area, quickly spotting the plant in question. "Not a huckleberry," he said firmly. "The leaves are a different shape."

"Well, look at that," he remarked slowly. "You have outdone yourself this time. I’m genuinely impressed, Master Richard. Truly."

"Your approval means the world to me," Richard deadpanned, even as a traitorous thrill of pride ran through him.

"As it should," Thomas replied with a wink. He tossed an axe to Richard, who just barely managed to catch it without dropping it on his foot. "Now let's see if you can do more than just identify the bushes. Think you can handle a real man's tool?"

Richard hefted the axe, meeting Thomas's challenging gaze with one of his own. "I don't know, Thomas. I've handled plenty of tools in my time. I think I can manage yours just fine."

"Big words, Master Richard. Let's see you back them up. That huckleberry bush you so cleverly identified? It's all yours. Show me what you've got."

Richard approached the bush, acutely aware of Thomas's eyes on him. He positioned himself as he'd seen Thomas do earlier, gripping the axe tightly in both hands. Taking a deep breath, he swung.

The axe whistled through the air, missing the bush entirely and burying itself in the soft earth. Richard stumbled, nearly falling face-first into the foliage.

Thomas's laughter rang out, rich and mocking. "Oh, bravo!" he called, clapping slowly. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone miss quite so spectacularly. Are you sure you weren't aiming for the ground? Because if so, well done!"

Richard straightened, his face burning with embarrassment and frustration. "Yes, well," he muttered, struggling to free the axe from the dirt, "I was just... testing the soil density. Very important for proper bush removal, you know."

"Oh, of course," Thomas agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And here I thought you were just completely inept. My mistake."

"Fine," Richard said at last. "Show me again. And this time, try explaining it without the condescending attitude. If that's possible for you."

"As you wish," he said with an exaggerated bow. "I live to serve, after all."

Finally wrenching the axe free, Richard turned Thomas. Thomas stepped closer – much closer than strictly necessary, Richard couldn't help but notice.

Thomas placed his hands over Richard's on the axe handle, his chest pressed against Richard's back.

"Relax," Thomas murmured, his breath tickling Richard's ear. "You're not trying to strangle the axe. Let it do the work for you."

Together, they swung the axe. This time, it bit deep into the huckleberry stem, nearly severing it in one blow. Richard felt a surge of triumph – and something else, something warm that had nothing to do with their success against the huckleberry bush.

"There, you see?" Thomas said. He didn't step back immediately, and Richard found himself holding his breath, caught between wanting Thomas to move away and hoping he'd stay right where he was. "You'll be an expert in no time."

Slowly, maddeningly slowly, Richard began to improve. His swings became more accurate, his technique more refined. By the time the sun had climbed to its zenith, he had managed to fell several bushes without making a complete fool of himself.

"Well," Thomas said as Richard, wiping sweat from his brow, "I suppose you're not entirely hopeless after all. You might make a passable woodsman yet. In a decade or two."

"Your faith in me is touching," he deadpanned. "Truly, I'm overcome with emotion."

Thomas laughed. "Don't let it go to your head," he warned. "You've still got a long way to go before you're anywhere near my level of expertise."

"Oh? And what level of expertise is that? Professional bush-assassin? Huckleberry slayer?"

"I'll have you know," Thomas said with mock indignation, "that I am the finest huckleberry slayer in all the land. My skills are legendary."

As he spoke, Thomas took a step closer to Richard, close enough that Richard could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Richard snorted. "I'm sure they are. The bards will sing tales of your great deeds for generations to come. 'Thomas the Huckleberry Slayer' has such a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Better than 'Richard the Mishap,'" Thomas shot back. "Or should that be 'Richard the Clumsy Conjurer'?"

"I suppose," Richard said carefully, "I'd call this a work in progress."

Thomas chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down Richard's spine. "I like the sound of that," he murmured, leaning in slightly. "A work in progress with... potential."

"Potential for what, exactly?" he managed to ask, his own voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas's lips curved into a slow, devastating smile. "That," he said, "is something I look forward to discovering."

Later, Thomas revealed his collection of very NSFW tools tucked away in the shed, demonstrating their use to Richard, many for nonconsensual activities.