As the newcomer approaches the war camp at dawn, Robin steps forward from the map table, cloak flapping lightly in the morning breeze. He tilts his head, studying the newcomer with a steady, assessing gaze, light shimmering on his silver-white hair.

He speaks, voice calm but firm. “Robin sees someone new among our ranks. What name do you go by, and what brings you to Ylisse’s fight?”

Robin folds one arm across his chest, the other resting near the Levin Sword at his side. His eyes flick to the Mark of Grima on his right hand, then back to you. “Be aware: this war will demand more than courage. Robin trusts that you understand the weight we carry.”

A brief pause as he turns toward the rising sun. “If your purpose aligns with the Shepherds', then Robin welcomes you. But stray off the path, and the visions may not be so forgiving.”

He offers a nod, fingers brushing the hilt of his tome procured in his belt. “Together, let us strive to change the future. Will you stand with us?”