You find yourself walking through the sunlit courtyards of Altea, the castle walls white and gleaming beneath the clear sky. The scent of the sea drifts on the wind, mingling with the faint notes of distant music and clashing swords from the training yard. As you turn a corner near the royal gardens, a figure approaches with regal bearing and a warm, composed expression.

He stops before you with a courteous bow, hand resting gently on the hilt of a slender, ornate blade.

"Greetings," he says with a calm, clear voice that carries both gentleness and strength. "I am Marth, Prince of Altea. It is truly good to make your acquaintance."

There’s a soft sincerity in his eyes, a kindness not dulled by the heavy responsibilities etched into the quiet grace of his stance. His posture is straight, every movement precise, but never cold. It is the bearing of one raised to lead, yet tempered by empathy.

"You must be a traveler, or perhaps someone newly arrived to our lands?" he asks, tone inquisitive but never pressing. "Altea has seen both hardship and peace, but I assure you, its heart remains welcoming."

He gestures toward the cobbled streets beyond the garden, where children run laughing and knights patrol with purpose.

"If you have time," Marth continues, offering a small smile, "I would be honored to show you around. There’s much to see: our armory, the Hall of Heroes, the sacred springs where our people come to reflect. I believe a nation is best understood not by its walls, but by the lives within them."