"So no more trying to put chicken wings on the Risen, okay?" Robin said, liberating the poor chicken-which looked about as horrified as a bird could possibly hope to-from Henry. "And besides, even if you do somehow gain control over them, it's not like we can use them to air raid the enemy. Chickens can't fly."

"Oh, right. I forgot about that bit." Henry shrugged, his face still plastered with that ever persistant grin. Slinging the severed Risen arm over his shoulder, he stood up and dusted off his robes.

Robin was almost tempted to order him to burn the Risen arm, after all, who knew what sort of nasty diseases those things carried. But then again, he didn't exactly want to be cursed into a toad either. Instead, he focused on something that had been irking him since the first day he'd seen a Plegian.

"Say, Henry. What are those eye things on your collar?"

"Oh! These are the markings of Lord Grima." Henry replied happily.

Well that made sense, Grimleal was the state religion of Plegia. But still...

"I wouldn't have taken you for someone who worshiped." Really, Robin couldn't imagine Henry praying or asking for guidance from anyone. In fact, he just had a dream last night where Henry was throwing pies at Naga.

"Nah, nothing like that. It's just that all the uniforms have them. I don't care much for evil dragons or even shiny good ones." After a pause, Henry promptly threw the Risen arm into the fire, "I suppose there are always fresher ones waiting after the next battle, right?"

"So, it's like a patron saint sort of thing?" Robin persisted.

"Beats me. I never did pay attention during sermons, I was too busy trying to figure out a way to curse the priest's mouth shut." Henry picked up a stick, "The pictures they hung up were pretty though. I think the real mark of Grima looked something like this."

Slowly and methodically he drew out a sigil in the shape of a v with eyes sprouting out on the sides.

"Something wrong? Did I draw it silly or something?" he asked innocently upon seeing the frown that had fallen on Robin's face.

"Er, nothing, no. It looks...odd." Robin quickly said, "I mean, it does look kind of weird. Why so many eyes? Is it some kind of weird symbolism? That Grima watches you wherever you move? Because that's kind of creepy isn't it? Doesn't he have anything better to do than watch people?"

Henry maintained his serene smile despite Robin's speech quickly moving into rambling, "Why are you so curious about this? Interested in converting?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Robin stammered, "I'm not converting, I'm not even a Follower of Naga. I mean, I've never even seen her before."

Before Robin could once again fall into incoherant babbling, Lissa ran up calling for Henry. Something about a sleeping hex.

Once Henry was gone, Robin sat back onto his heels with a sigh. He pulled off the glove from his hand, the one with a marking exactly like Henry's drawing. The knowledge of where it had come from was gone with the rest of his memory. He had seen the sigil everywhere in the Plegian palace. Back when he and Chrom had arrived to discuss diplomacy. Back when he found a doppleganger of himself serving as hierophant, back when Validar revealed that he was...that he was...
Shaking his head, he dislodged the thoughts from his mind. No, he was his own man before he was anyone's son.

The mark on his hand didn't look like tattoo, it was even closer to his skin than that. Did he worship Grima at one point? That made enough sense; if Validar really was his father, then he was Plegian by birth. And that doppleganger was the heirophant, the highest order of the religion. But even so, he hadn't seen any other believer with the marking on their body. Not the doppleganger, not Aversa, not even Validar.

He hadn't shown the mark to anyone in the army. If Chrom had noticed it when they first met, he hadn't mentioned it since. But who knew, maybe it was common pratice. Or maybe he was some sort of crazy fanatic in his past life. Despite his attempts to override his anxiety, a sense of dread refused to leave him. In a sudden burst of agitation, he got to his feet and headed off to Chrom's tent before he could stop himself.

"Hey, Chrom. Can I have a word?"

"Is there something wrong with tomorrow's marching orders?"

"No, this isn't about strategy. I...I just have question about culture."

"Sure thing. But do we really have to talk through the tent?"

Robin blinked sheepishly, he had essentially been carrying a conversation with Chrom's tent door. Ducking inside, he found Chrom remantling his armor.

"So, what do you want to know?"

"Well, the Mark of Naga." Robin began hesitantly, "Do the Followers ever tattoo it to their bodies?"

There was momentary pause, complete with a wide eyed puzzled look from Chrom. Robin was almost tempted to run out on the spot. What sort of stupid question was that when there was a war going on?

"As far as I know, that's a pretty big offense."

"What?" Robin's voice clipped in surprise.

"You're not suppose to put her mark on your body unless it was bestowed upon you." Chrom continued, looking a little concerned at the tactitian's sudden reaction, "You see, the Ylissian royal family was given the mark as a sign of her blessing, you know, to use the Falchion. It's blasphemous to physically use her mark any other way."
He chuckled a little, "Doesn't stop the clerics from plastering it on every last wall though."

"Oh, I see." Robin hesitated for a moment, "So, I can assume that that applies for all religions?"

"I guess." Chrom set his armor aside and stood up. He was several inches taller than Robin and for the first time, he felt rather intimidated by his friend and commander. "What's up Robin? It's not like you to dance around an issue so much. Just spit it out."

Spit it out? Well, Robin has asked weirder questions during that period where he was more clueless about the world than a lost puppy. Alright, here goes.

"Do Grimleals ever put the Mark of Grima onto their bodies?"

After a moment of contemplation, Chrom said, "I can't say. I don't really know much about Grimleal. Every last Ylissian knows about the legend of the first Exalt but they didn't exactly make Grimleal a priority subject in the schools."

Feeling both relieved and rather deflated at the same time, Robin let his shoulders slump. "That's alright. I was just curious."

"I bet I know who does know, though." Chrom said, "Libra."

"No, it's not that important-" Robin was cut off by Chrom takin his hand and pulling him out of the tent. "Really, it's not that big of a deal!"

"It couldn't have been that small of a deal either judging by how flustered you were." Chrom shot back, seemingly enjoying making a show of dragging his tactitian across the camp grounds.

"I was not flustered! I was just curious! And it was an odd question!" But after a string of protests, Robin decided to spare himself the air and give up. Besides, Chrom's grip was like an iron shackle and escape wasn't entirely worth dislocating his arm for. Besides, his shouting was drawing even more attention to the pair.

"Libra!" Chrom called, "Do you have a second?"

"Of course Lord Chrom." Libra looked up from his prayer, "How may I be of service."

"Can Grimleals put the mark of Grima on their body?"

Chrom blurted out the question with such frankness that Robin had the distinct urge to bash his head on a nearby tree.

"No." came the equally frank answer, "That is one of the few things that worshippers of Naga and Grima share. One does not simply doodle a sacred mark onto their skin. It must be bestowed or it is nothing more than a mockery. That is a fundamental law."

"See? That wasn't so hard was it?" Chrom slapped Robin on the shoulder so hard that he nearly sent the tactitian face first into the dirt. "Thanks Libra."

Robin managed a quick thanks of his own before being dragged off again.

"If you don't mind me asking", Chrom's voice had grown a great deal softer, less crass and more serious, "Why did you ask such a question."

Robin stopped dead in his tracks. Did he dare tell Chrom? Most people in the army, Chrom included, had cursed Grima's name at one point or another. If they found out, would they still trust him? It seemed as though Chrom either never noticed the mark on his hand or didn't remember. Would they just up and put him to the sword. No, they wouldn't do that, would they?

"This is about Validar being your father, isn't it?" Chrom asked, the quiet understanding in his tone sent a shiver down Robin's spine, he was so close yet so off. "Are you afraid that you were once a Grimleal? I'm telling you now that it doesn't matter. It's a state religion, a law in Plegia. It's not as if you would have had a choice. You were probably raised that way. It's not your fault."

"Yes, but it's just..." Robin trailed off.

"Just what?" After Robin refused to answer, Chrom sighed, "Come on, I'm your friend aren't I? Whatever your past is, you have risked your life for Ylisse and this army. You have must trust."

After another pasue, Robin nodded reluctantly. He steeled himself and drew a deep breath.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

"You mean when I found you napping in that field?" a sentimental smirk appeared on Chrom's face.

"Right, do you remember that I wasn't wearing gloves at the time?" Robin asked, bracing himself.

"Well now that you mention it...no, I don't remember."

Resigning himself to his fate, Robin pulled his glove off and held up his hand, "Quite frankly, I'm surprised that you never noticed."

There was a long stillness, save for Robin flinching at the surprised expression on Chrom's face. He had to bite back a stream of justifications, most of them involving his amnesia.

"Huh."

Robin nearly chocked, "That's all you have to say?!"

"What did you want me to say?" Chrom asked.

"I don't know. I was half expecting to be punched." Robin said, exasperated.

"So that's why you were asking."

"No, I was asking because Minerva's horns suddenly twisted into the Mark of Grima."

"No need to get angry." Chrom chuckled, "But I see your concern. But I hold fast on what I said. It makes no difference to me what your past is."

"Surely you see how rash that is!" Robin sputtered, "You heard Libra. It's not just some kind of thing you draw on yourself because you're bored. That doppleganger was the freaking hierophant and not even he had a mark on his hand. Don't you at least see the danger in this?"

"What would you have me do?" Chrom asked, "Lock you up and throw away the key? Even if that is what you want, you can be sure that I would never order it. Whatever happens, we can work this out together. I'm not just throwing you away because of Grima."

Robin opened his mouth to protest but was quickly shushed by Chrom's definant expresison. It was impossible to argue with the man when he went into his hero mentality. Though it was true that he didn't fancy being beheaded for a sigil, but he didn't want to run the risk of hurting his allies either.

"If it makes you feel better. I'll warn you if I see that you've suddenly sprouted fangs or something." Chrom gave him a friendly shake.

"Hm...I'll hold you to it then." Robin said, smiling despite his reservations.

It was difficult to hold on to despair or anxiety in situations like these. But even so, regardless of whatever was said, that mark was still there. A fuel for worry in days to come.

Note: I'm surprised this was never addressed in a cutscene or support conversation.