Once they had wrapped up all their business in the town, they said goodbye to the girl and set out on the road back home. During the journey, Nox spent a long time thinking about the prophecy.
'Who is the one who can change fate? Is it me? It can't be me... Right?'

In the end, he decided that his destiny, whatever it was, at least didn't necessarily lead straight to the grave. That thought, small as it was, improved his mood a little.
'The rest... I'll just have to wait for, I guess,' he thought.

As they were riding back to the mansion, Nox's thoughts, again, found their way back to Torven. The question still gnawed at him: 'Where could his Mark possibly be?' There was no sign on his stomach, face, or forearms. Those were usually the most common spots. Taking those out of the equation, his back seemed like the most probable location.

'But it could just as easily be the legs. Or maybe...' Nox hesitated at the thought. The mere idea that Torven might bear his Mark in a more intimate place sent a flush racing to his cheeks.

He tried to shake the image out of his mind, to push it away, but it wouldn't go. If anything, it dug in deeper into his mind. Instead of resisting, he began to entertain the idea. How could he get Torven to reveal more of his body? If he could just find a way, he might finally be able to confirm his suspicions.

And then, like a lightning strike, it came to him. A "brilliant" idea.

Of course. All he had to do was act like a proper pervert.

Bold and shameless. That would surely push Torven far enough to strip off his clothes out of disgust, just to make a point. And in doing so, Nox would see everything. Literally and figuratively.

The absurdity of it was too much. First, he laughed silently, then he snorted under his breath, and finally he burst out into loud, uncontrollable laughter, bending over in his saddle.

He tried to stop, to breathe, but wave after wave of laughter overwhelmed him. His own mind had declared it the most ridiculous and hilarious plan it had ever devised.

He completely forgot he wasn't alone.

Torven was riding right beside him in silence, gently holding his reins. He looked relaxed, occasionally glancing over at Nox, the corner of his mouth twitching with quiet amusement.

"What's so funny?" he asked quietly, one brow arched ever so slightly.

Nox's laughter cut off, but he suddenly relapsed into short laughter afterwards before he got a hold of himself. He straightened up slowly and the flush that had only just begun to fade came rushing back to his face with twice the intensity.

"Nothing! I was just... uh..." He scrambled for something, anything, and his brain, traitorous as always, latched onto the first thing it found. "I was remembering this... ridiculous thing from when I was a kid."

Torven said nothing, just kept watching him.

"My brother was maybe seven? He decided to build a swing in the field behind our house. He tied a rope to a tree branch and insisted on being the first to try. Of course, the knot came loose mid-swing."

Torven raised an eyebrow.

"His leg got caught on the rope," Nox continued, "and instead of landing, he flipped upside down and ended up dangling like a screaming bat over a patch of stinging nettles. Every time he swayed forward, his hair dipped into them. He was yelling and cursing. I was laughing so hard I couldn't even help him."

Torven stared at him for a second... then gave a slow, amused exhale through his nose.
"That's the dumbest story I've ever heard," he said and added, "You're... weirder than I thought."

"You have no idea," Nox muttered, praying the conversation wouldn't circle back to his actual reason for laughing.

As they reached the stables, Nox was the first to dismount.
"I'd better feed Gerhart. See you later," he said, keeping his tone casual as he led the horse toward his stall, doing his best to suppress the grin tugging at his lips.

...That very same evening, Nox decided to put his plan into action.
'I've got nothing to lose,' he thought.

Step one: choosing the right place.
The dining room was out of the question, he couldn't imagine Torven undressing during a meal. The sitting room wasn't much better. But the bedroom...?
Or even better: the bathroom.

Nox waited patiently for the right moment. When he saw Torven heating up the water at the stove, and taking the bucket away, he followed quietly at a distance. That's when he discovered his bathroom. A small space behind a half-closed door, with steam escaping through the gaps.

He pressed himself into the narrow wall space just beside the door and could hear Torven pouring the hot water into the tub. When the warrior stepped out to fetch another bucket, Nox seized his chance and quietly slipped inside.

'Quick! Should I wait behind the curtain?' he pondered.
'Who does that?! I need to get a hold of myself! What am I even thinking!?' Nox answered himself immediately.

In the end, Nox decided that waiting for him in the bathtub was the best idea.
"I still have time to back out," he murmured to himself.
But he didn't. Instead, he quickly undressed completely before stepping into the steaming water.

He began to wonder whether Torven would even come back. Minutes passed, and Nox started to worry that the water would grow cold.
He needn't have worried.

A moment later, the door opened, and Torven stepped into the bathroom carrying a bucket in his hand.

Nox saw the warrior's thick eyebrows arch upward, and felt his whole face flushed crimson. He wasn't sure if it was from the heat or from sheer embarrassment. Torven poured the water in and began to undress. "It was a long day, let's wash up", he said.

Slowly, Torven unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, pausing briefly when he reached his navel.
"Are you alright?" he asked, glancing at Nox.

Nox nodded, thrown completely off balance. He had no idea what Torven was thinking.

Torven went on. He finished unbuttoning his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. Then, still looking Nox directly in the eyes, he reached for the waistband of his trousers and slid them down over his hips.

Nox, mortified, wanted to avert his gaze, but a small voice in the back of his mind whispered: 'Focus on the task. You have to find his Mark'.
So he looked, even though it made him feel like a complete lunatic.

But the Mark, the moon symbol, was nowhere to be found. Not on his legs, his stomach, or his feet. Nox looked directly at Torven's manhood and saw nothing there either....

'What on earth am I doing... I must have lost my mind!'

His cheeks burning, Nox couldn't bring himself to meet Torven's eyes again. Torven, head slightly bowed, seemed to be stifling amusement. Without a word, he stepped into the bath and sat down.

Of course, sharing a bath wasn't anything unusual among warriors, but openly staring at another man's body certainly was. Nox was, in part, thankful he wasn't currently hiding behind a curtain like a pervert, but he also wished he could be, just to hide how flustered he felt.

All he could do now was pretend everything was completely normal. That he wasn't sitting naked in someone else's bath. He picked up the soap and started scrubbing himself as if nothing at all was out of place.

Torven sat at the opposite end of the large, round wooden tub. He looked completely calm, even relaxed. He leaned his arms on the rim and closed his eyes.

Just when Nox thought things were settling down, he suddenly felt something gently brush against his thigh, a soft touch. Torven's foot.

As if waiting for that very moment, a familiar heat surged through Nox's loins..
Great," he muttered to himself, "now I'm definitely not going anywhere."

Minutes passed. Eventually, Nox tried to focus on something else. 'Should I say something?' he thought.

He cleaned his throat and said, "Thank you for today, let's spar again tomorrow, I'd love to try it with my new boots on."

"Ok, let's do that," said Torven.

The silence again was unbearable.

After another couple of minutes had passed, Torven stood up and turned around to get out of the bath.

...Exposing a large, clearly defined Mark, the shape of a full moon, spread across his upper back, impossible to miss.