The story Lucina told surprised even Marth. Malin had told her what he knew of it when they reunited, but neither one had expected that the silence heard from the exalt's family was caused by problems within it. In a way…she supposed that she was partly to blame, setting the precedent for inexplicable departures. She worried for her brother after hearing about it, because she knew that it was something he feared he had caused—and in a way, he wasn't wrong about that.
In the next few days that the children spent adjusting to the different place before Basilio forced them to battle, Marth noticed how frequently Lucina would visit the training area; she went once alone and once with a friend, whether that person be Kjelle, Morgan, Owain, or one of the khans. During one such trip with Kjelle, Marth stirred from her observant position.
"May I give some advice?" Marth asked. Both girls paused and nodded, and Marth continued, "Lucina, you're fairly good on your feet but you don't pay attention to what's around you; Kjelle, you're relying too much on the thought that you know how your opponent will respond. I can show you what I know."
"You won't mind?" Kjelle said. "Malin didn't train with the rest of us so we couldn't see how he fought."
"Knowing how I fight won't determine whether you win or lose," Marth reasoned simply. She took a steel sword and lance and took them to where Lucina and Kjelle were still standing. As she showed them their errors and tried to guide them towards correcting them, she alternated between the two weapons depending on what needed to be shown.
Both of the girls tried to entertain conversation with her, mentioning Malin and their parents and past events. She wasn't…quite in the mood for conversation, however—at least, not until they went from casually asking to prodding for information.
She had moved on to specifically showing Kjelle how she could improve with her lance when Lucina spoke up, a bit hesitant but still firm. "May I ask, Marth, why you wear a mask? It only covers your eyes—it can't do much to conceal you."
"It's a matter you don't need to worry about," Marth replied firmly. "…It may just concern you."
"I'm not easily disturbed," Lucina maintained boldly. "If you're hiding scars, I won't be too bothered by them." Kjelle nodded as a silent agreement, apparently wishing to know the same thing.
"I won't take it off just to satisfy your curiosity," Marth said. Despite that, she could've sworn that she saw one of the girls reach for it—although she recognized that no such motion actually happened, she still frowned. Challengingly if not threateningly, she said, "If you two would like to insist on knowing, we can duel? Two against one; I'll show you, if only for a moment, if you win against me."
"That doesn't feel fair," Kjelle pointed out.
"Ah, but you're forgetting that in the tournament there will be seven teenagers against three trained soldiers," Marth replied. "It's fair enough. Now, are we agreed? I won't hold back, nor should you."
The girls exchanged a glance before both reaching for their weapons. Marth chose a sword to fight with, and after a brief moment they began. She had spent that time helping them, yet they hadn't learned enough to fix their mistakes in an actual battle—they might have managed to win if they had more practice correcting their errors. Because they hadn't, however, Marth could outmaneuver them fairly well; focusing on Lucina, Marth countered every attack with one of her own.
After a few minutes, Lucina seemed to recognize something familiar about how Marth used her blade. While defending against Marth's attacks, she asked, "Who taught you how to wield a sword?"
"My father," Marth replied firmly. During one strike, she drew blood from the princess; with the next, she pushed her to the ground. "It's similar to how your father taught you—except I had to learn from others what he couldn't teach me."
It was only seconds later that Malin came into the training area, at first not noticing them. "All right, dinner's about ready, so—Marth? Why do I have the feeling that you're doing something I won't like?"
Without a single word, Marth dropped her sword and left the arena altogether, going to the inn where she and Malin spent the nights, which was in the nearest town. It was about an hour before anyone knocked on the door.
"Come on," Malin's voice said. "What did you do? That was more intense than usual." She could hear him leaning on the door—a sign that he didn't intend to leave until he got an answer out of her.
Marth sighed. "I suppose… It is something of jealousy, or guilt. The more time I spend close to her, the more I see how her family is different than ours—yet, in the same glance, I can tell that her family has suffered unlike ours as well. I don't have what she has, and I fought in part to ensure that…yet, in a way, I contributed to her hardships as well."
Malin just laughed from the other side of the door. "Oh, please—you're to fault here? You gave a warning before you left, at least." He paused for a moment, then ventured more quietly, "But you know that's not a reason to cut up a seventeen-year-old, right?"
"…I'm aware," Marth admitted. "At the very least, they know what to expect during the tournament."
"I guess so," Malin replied. He opened the door a bit and put a plate on the table close by. "It might not be warm, but I got some food for you. You can't fight on an empty stomach! Or brood on an empty stomach, in this case."
"Thank you, Brother," Marth said. As Malin closed the door again, she moved to pick up the plate and sat down to eat it.
Overall, the issue only progressed in importance in her mind. However much she tried to focus on what good came out of everything, she oftentimes failed; she wasn't the optimist, after all. The situation made her more inclined to be back home—as long as she could leave this time without regret, guilt, or worry.