"Are you sure about this, Robin?"

"Absolutely."

Chrom frowned, plucking at the right sleeve of his uniform. "It just seems too... restrictive."

"Believe me, you'll be grateful to those sleeves when you start using a bow," the tactician replied. She rubbed her own arms ruefully. "Let's just say that I forgot my arm-guards during a day of training, and it wasn't pretty."

"Is that why you don't use the bow anymore?" said Chrom, pointedly gesturing to the sage's shawl draped around her shoulders.

Robin turned her nose up to hide a flush of embarrassment. "I make careful strategic decisions based on what is best for the army. Since Lissa and Maribelle can't do all the healing themselves, it was only natural that I begin learning as well."

"But I... uh, not to question your judgment or anything, but what's the point of me learning how to use a bow?" The prince scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, I can't wield Falchion if I'm lugging a bow around."

"Because you need to learn greater precision!" said Robin emphatically. "When it all comes down to it, I need to make sure that you won't miss an attack and leave yourself open to being injured."

"Uh-huh." Chrom looked less than convinced. "And in the meantime, I won't be able to defend myself if someone gets into close range. A bow isn't exactly suited for close-range combat."

"But you will be able to defend yourself from long range!" said the tactician triumphantly. "A sword isn't exactly suited for long-range combat. What are you going to do, throw it? ...don't answer that, I don't want to know." She smiled. "Besides, you can take a few cuts and bruises. They build character."

Chrom sighed gustily. "This is revenge for the whole bath peeping thing, isn't it? I told you that was an accident... and you walked in on me not a week later, anyway..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Robin. She swept in and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't worry, love, if you get injured I'll be sure to take very good care of you."

There was a sultry promise in the tone of voice she used. Chrom went crimson. Robin smirked.

"I... oh, fine, if you think it's for the best," the prince said at last. "I will be able to use Falchion again eventually, right?"

"Yes, eventually," said Robin. She squeezed his shoulder, chuckling. "And you'll be able to have your arm go back to being wild and free once again-no longer suffocating under the tyranny of sleeves!"

The prince merely rolled his eyes.

Chrom loosed another arrow and smiled in satisfaction as it struck a Risen wyvern dead center, sending the creature plummeting from the sky. "That's the last of them!" he called over to Robin. He smiled. I've grown a lot stronger over the past few weeks... I think I'm about ready for a promotion. I can't wait to start using Falchion again...

The tactician walked over to him. "Not bad... though you still have some improvement to make. That one missed shot could have put a hiccup in my plans."

"It was just bad luck," said Chrom. "A gust of wind took it. Nine times out of ten, I'd have made the shot with no problems."

"Nine times out of ten, huh."

Chrom was beginning to feel uneasy, but that unease dissipated when he noticed something glittering in Robin's hands. "Um, Robin, what's that?"

"A master seal, for your promotion," said the tactician. "With all the fighting you've done, you've earned it."

Yes! Finally! He pictured himself mounted on a horse, bow slung over the back of the saddle, Falchion once again in his hand.

The mental image was banished by Robin's next words.

"I want you to become a sniper."